Sleeping with the Enemy (An Enemies to Lovers Collection)

Now that’s going to get me weepy again on top of everything else.

“You know I would help you for as long as I’m here.”

“Mmm.” I lift my head and look at Finn from underneath the crook of my arm. Even through my armpit vision, he looks amazing. His face is soft and concerned, and he truly wants to help, which makes me want to crumble. I turn slowly, but in those two seconds, the right words still haven’t come to me. “You know I can’t accept that even though I do really appreciate the offer. And you also know bad things happen beyond six months.”

“I know. But maybe there doesn’t have to be a limit to my help. I could set up a monthly donation. That way, we’d get the tax break, we’d be supporting a good cause, and you would have more money for emergencies. You should have a fund for the vehicles, the house, and upkeep on the property. I know you want to save the money you have just for the animals, but the buildings, land, and vehicles, they all need it too. But above all, you need it. Without you, this place wouldn’t be an operation. You’re the heart and soul of it. You can find a place to provide insurance, and you can pay the monthly premiums out of it. You’re young and healthy, so I don’t think it would eat up too much of your money.”

I’m floored by Finn’s offer. It would be so easy to accept it and just have my problems disappear the way a bad stench evaporates into the air after a while—believe me, I know because I’ve been around enough bad stenches since I started this place—but it’s hard. It’s hard because I feel like, after what we did, it’s a sort of payment for services rendered. No, that’s not right. Finn would never make it about that, but I just feel like…like…I don’t know. Like my pride is too great to accept it. I guess that’s what it boils down to.

“I know you’re going to tell me no because you think it’s somehow dependent on any sort of feelings I might have, but that has nothing to do with it. I mean feelings for you, not feelings in general. I do feel a lot of things about this place because it’s truly inspiring. You’re inspiring, and I now know why my grandfather wanted me to come out here.”

“He probably knew I’d need serious help in the future,” I snort, feeling embarrassed for having said that.

“I don’t think that’s it at all. You’re just in a bad mood. You don’t have to answer me now because I can wait, but the offer’s there. I’m not going to take it off the table, and it’s not conditional on anything. It’s all because I can help, and I want to help. You did tell me I have lots of money, which is true, so I’d like to put it to good use.”

“Even if I never want to test any more theories?”

“Even if you don’t. But I wouldn’t mind if you did, just saying. But if theories and experiments are truly off the table, I understand where you’re coming from, and I respect your feelings. I would like to say that if you’d let me, I’d also like to make a personal donation—because I can make the other donation through the company—or you to hire another person here to help you. Not because I think you can’t do it all on your own or that you aren’t doing a great job, but because you seriously need it. There’s more work here than you can handle. It’s part of you taking care of yourself and making sure you don’t burn out. But it also just makes complete sense.”

“Stop, Finn, it’s too much. You’re too nice. I—I don’t know what to say.”

“You could start by saying you’ll think about it. And then you could pass the oat milk over here because I find that I like it, and if you don’t mind sharing, I’m quite parched.”

I reach for the oat milk and clutch the container while I battle against my tears. I’m battling other things, too—things like the feelings of desire—the desire to…um…experiment again and shovel poo that isn’t actual poop and also enjoy a shovel that isn’t a shovel. Good gull darn it, I want to kiss Finn again. In fact, I want to do more than kiss him. I guess he can see that too because his eyebrows shoot up, and he doesn’t reach for the oat milk. Instead, he reaches for me. And I reach for him.

The carton of delicious oat goodness ends up between us as Finn’s hand covers my own. He works my fingers open gently and sets the container on the counter. I reach up and grip his face, tugging him down to me, but it’s a long way. He’s really freaking tall.