Sleeping with the Enemy (An Enemies to Lovers Collection)

“That was decades ago.”

“It was kind of only just a little over a decade ago.”

“My point exactly.”

“She’s younger, so she has a better memory.”

I very much doubt that because I remember every single day I’ve ever spent in Stella Winters’ company. Every. Single. One. Of. Them.

I twist an elastic band around my index finger and thumb. The motion is blocked by the edge of my desk. Sam, however, sits there all patient and hopeful, like a sitting duck in the water.

“I’ll take care of it. I’ll call you when it’s done.”

“That sounds straight-up mafia,” Sam groans. “Tell me you won’t go to Daryl’s house with the goons.”

“Did he cheat on Stella? Ever abuse her verbally, mentally, or physically? Why did she break up with him?”

“I don’t know. Because she finally saw the light?”

“Alright. He’s safe then.”

“Thanks, man.” Sam stands up and stretches his arms above his head.

The fucker is a few inches taller than me. More athletic too, which is why he went to school with a full-ride in football while I had to study my ass off and work part-time to cover what the meager grants I got wouldn’t cover.

I stand too, but we don’t offer hands. What I do offer, however, is my index finger and thumb. I aim quick, release the elastic band, and fire it straight at Sam’s forehead. Sam’s face turns scarlet as he silently rubs the spot. He gives me a look full of painful death.

“You get that one for free, motherfucker. Because you’re willing to do this. The next time you try that, I’ll sneak into your house and cut that nice, long, luxurious hair of yours into a mullet.”

“I’m going to forget you ever referred to my hair as luxurious. And that one was for last week when you shot a twist-off beer cap straight into my eye. Just about blinded me.”

“You were fine. And it was an accident.”

I know it wasn’t; he knows it wasn’t. We might be thirty, but we’re still just overgrown boys who like to play rough, play pranks, and in general, be the biggest little assholes walking the streets of Bellevue.

“Remember the mullet,” Sam says ominously as he heads out the door, sporting a thankful look on his face and a big red welt on his forehead.

I nod silently at him in that threatening, non-threatening because we’re best buds sort of way that men nod at each other. As soon as he’s gone, I snatch my phone up and ring Charlene. “Can you find me the number and address for Daryl?”

“Daryl who?” she asks, sounding peeved. Right, she’s still not so pleased about the whole Sam ordering her around thing.

“I don’t know. Daryl the Asshole, or something. Anyone who has a name that sounds like a real di…err…pe…err. Just not a nice guy kind of name. Can you get me a list of those? For Bellevue.”

“Alright. I’ll have it to you in an hour.”

“Thanks.”

It’s not the strangest thing I’ve ever asked Charlene to do. She’s used to me by now. I have no doubt she’ll find Daryl within the hour as she promised, which means that by this afternoon, Stella Winters will have herself a new business partner.

CHAPTER 3

Stella

“What the hell is this?” Sarah Cormers looks confused at the mail in her hand. “This one doesn’t even have a stamp. I tell you. People nowadays.” She sets the rest of the mail aside and leans against the long stainless prep table where there are currently no less than what seems like six million bowls of fondant and icing set out along with four dozen cupcakes, freshly baked and cooled to the perfect temperature.

“Maybe it’s a disgruntled client who wants to be a smart ass and was too cheap to pay for postage, so they stuck it in the mailbox out front,” Marla snipes. She’s not in any hurry to get the cupcakes done, even though they should have been ready twenty minutes ago.

Sarah and Marla are sisters. They’re seventy-two and seventy respectively. They’re fun, peppy, and they love working part-time at my bakery.

They both have long, flowing white hair that they tuck into tight buns with a hairnet slapped over the top when they’re at work. They wear no makeup, but I swear they’re like Hollywood royalty because they’re so pretty. You know those older women that stop you dead in your tracks when you’re walking down the street, and you think to yourself, “Damn, if I could look that good at their age...” Yeah, that’s Sarah and Marla. They must have caused their parents so many problems when they were younger.

Amelia is my only other employee. She’s due in the bakery this afternoon. She’s a college student, and she also works part-time. I start to wish I could have her in early today because the work is starting to pile up, and I’m not as zen about things as the two sisters are.