A New Enemy (Enemies 1)

“All right, music—and a drink,” I muttered to myself on the way down.

I chose a playlist with soft rock and grabbed a bottle of Jack from my collection. There wasn’t a chance in hell I’d do shots with any of the expensive bottles my dad sent me. Those were meant to be savored.

If there was one thing my father knew, it was the perfect cigar and drink pairing. He could look at birds with my mother in Argentina for the rest of their lives; what I would remember him for was his unique skill at putting together the best birthday gift a parent could give their grown-up son. Cigars and alcohol. Be it rum, tequila, or bourbon. It was spot-on every time.

I grabbed a shot glass from a cupboard and a beer from the fridge as a chaser.

“Get in the damn mood, man. Cheers.” I threw back the first shot and quickly poured a second. I hissed at the burn and took a swig of my beer.

Two firm knocks on the front door sent my head sideways, and I eyed the clock over the bar. Fuck, it had to be Bob. It was too early for Blake.

I went into the hallway and cursed internally. He was standing to the side, but I saw the edge of a black cowboy hat through the window in the door.

I opened up and knew immediately I didn’t stand a chance. I didn’t fucking care that it made me shallow; he was so goddamn attractive.

“You’re early.”

“And you’re…shirtless. Again.” He quirked a smirk at me and held up a bag. “I brought hot wings and beer in hopes you wanna stay in.”

That threw me for a second. “You changed your mind?”

He came closer until we were almost chest-to-chest. “I already found my company. Why go out?”

Fuck.

I got a whiff of his cologne and felt my mouth water. Up close, he was even sexier. Not to mention beautiful. His scruff gave him that rugged look I was so drawn to, but I kept going back to his eyes. I had to see complete surrender in them tonight.

“Okay. We’ll stay in.”

I didn’t miss the darkness clouding his gaze right before he brushed past me, and I glanced back, making sure I didn’t miss his ass either.

He set his hat down on the hallway table, then trailed into the kitchen and commented on my taste in music. He liked it.

I closed the door and followed him. A buzz ran through me, and I couldn’t shake the tension. Was I supposed to draw this out further? Was I supposed to play the game and go through the evening before making a move? I wasn’t sure I could. He’d flirted. He’d made shit pretty damn clear. I wanted to take things from here.

But taking charge didn’t have to mean I’d be the one diving in.

He would come to me. I’d make sure of it—and I wanted a taste right away.

He grinned a little when he spotted the bottle of Jack and my beer on the counter.

“Liquid courage?”

I leaned against the doorway to the kitchen and stuck my hands down into my pockets. “No.”

People hated short answers without explanations. It put them on edge one way or another, and Blake was no exception. The tiniest flicker of uncertainty was enough to indicate that he didn’t quite know how to proceed.

He cleared his throat and set the wings and the beer next to the sink. “Inside or outside? I vote for the porch.”

Porch sounded good. The balcony upstairs was even better.

“Outside is nice,” I replied. “I wouldn’t mind waiting with the wings, though. I recently had dinner.”

He nodded once. “Us too. Soph and I made fajitas.”

I didn’t respond, wanting him a bit more unglued. I watched him instead, and it was like coming home after a long trip. In my everyday life, I was as clueless as the next guy. I didn’t have all the answers. I had problems to fix, whether it was making sure I had enough work in the fall or something that needed repairing around the house. And being out of the dating game for a longer period of time had made me forget there was another side to me. A side that wasn’t even worth bringing out for nameless one-nighters who invited me home without a second thought. A side I couldn’t help but bring out now.

Blake knew it too. He went from averting his gaze to narrowing his eyes at me. He wanted to know what game I was playing.

Oh, he would be fun. He wasn’t one to take shit.

“I fucking knew you were gonna make this difficult,” he said.

“Make what difficult?”

He snorted and took a couple steps closer under the guise of checking out the drawings on my fridge. “You know what I’m talkin’ about.”

“Or you can tell me.”