Page 25 of Enemies to Lovers

My heart sinks at the thought of any of those outcomes.

Brewster’s tail slams into my leg as he pushes past me to get to Miles. Miles crouches, scratching the pup’s ears while I unzip my boots and kick them into the closet by the door.

“You see? He didn’t even say hi to me.” My bottom lip juts out as I hitch a hip. Miles flops Brewster’s ears before rising.

“Give him time. The guy was abandoned. He’s probably afraid to get attached.”

I make a blah blah motion with my hand. He makes sense, and I know it. Studying animals’ behaviors for several years helps, but it doesn’t make me any more patient.

I lead them both into my small, u-shaped kitchen, pulling the fridge open and leaning down to check all the options Logan left. He’s out with friends tonight, doing his weekly game night with a bunch of them. It is the only social thing he does.

“You a fan of eggnog?” I ask, pulling it from the door and giving it a shake. A wrinkle appears above his nose, and I laugh and put it back. “I don’t have much else, unfortunately.” The shelves are pretty bare, considering Logan and I don’t stock up too much before Christmas. We mooch from Mom’s fridge instead.

“Water is fine.”

I grab a couple of bottles, since I’m a complete water snob, then hipcheck the door shut. I toss one to him, and he catches it flawlessly, sending a wave of warmth directly to my lady bits.

“Thanks.” He cracks the top open, and those damn forearms put on a show. It’s all their fault I lost at air hockey.

I hop up onto the bar, putting me at least somewhat closer to his height. Brewster paws at Miles’ leg, shoving his lobster at him. Miles bends and tosses it, and the pup zooms over the back of my couch with a growl.

I shake my head. “Maybe I’ll keep the squid.”

“It’d probably make a good pillow,” he says, then takes a drink. My stupid eyes watch his Adam’s apple bob. I shift on the bar, crossing my legs.

“I’ve got plenty of those.” My voice is light, easy—a complete lie as to what I’m feeling. Do I ask him to come check them out for himself? That sounds so forward, and I’m a forward kinda gal, but I don’t want this to be a one-time thing either, and given my track record—

A buzz sounds through the room, thankfully pulling me from my thoughts. His hand slips inside his front pocket, and he frowns at the screen.

“Sorry,” he says, typing a quick response. “It’s my brother.”

“Do you have to go?” I pray the disappointment isn’t too obvious in my tone. “Family time?”

“No.” He sets his phone on the bar next to me, and I like that he keeps it screen up. It’s a red flag—or so I’ve heard—when a guy puts it facedown while on a date. “Half of them aren’t talking to me right now.”

“What’d you do?” I say it playfully, and he humors me with a sort-of-but-not-really-there grin before looking over my shoulder down the hall.

“Where’s Logan?”

Okay, I can take a hint. No prodding about the family tonight. “With his friends, I’m assuming,” I say after taking a much-needed sip from my own water. “But that’s just a guess.”

His brow furrows. “You don’t spend Christmas Eve together?”

“Nope. Just Christmas. We’ll go to my parents’ house and spend all day napping after eating way too much.”

“Sounds like a good tradition.”

It so is. I nod to the TV just over his head above the fireplace in my living room. “I usually watch Home Alone on Christmas Eve.”

“One of my favorites.” He rests a hand on the bar top next to my hip, and I lose brain activity for a solid three seconds.

“You want to stay and watch with me?” Cuddling on the couch with Miles would be another dream come true. I can’t count how many times I’ve sprawled on that couch, watching some romantic movie and thinking of him smoothing my hair or rubbing my back.

The hope in my chest softens when I catch the frown on his face. “Or not…”

“No, no… I…” His grip on his water bottle tightens, causing a crinkling of plastic to fill the air. “It’s just… Can I ask you something?”

I scoot a little closer, sharing his body heat. “I love pop quizzes. You know that.”

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