Page 46 of Enemies to Lovers

But trust is a hard thing to give, especially to someone who’s already hurt you.

I press a kiss to her forehead and slink back into my sheets. I hope they both get some sleep.

I pull the zipper on my hoodie, then fluff my hair out of its haphazard braid. Miles sleeps so soundly—stomach down, mouth open, snores like a bear mid-hibernation. If I wasn’t so upset with myself, I’d jump on him, rouse him from that deep sleep, kiss all over that face, and let him touch me in all the ways he did last night.

Brewster’s tail whips against my leg, and I shake myself out of the image. Miles and I went too far as it is; I can’t dive deeper. I’ll never surface.

“Okay, okay,” I whisper to the pup, hooking my fingers into my flip-flops and tiptoeing past Miles. I resist the urge to brush back that mop of hair splayed across his forehead. As much as I’d love to experience the softness of those light brown strands, I can’t risk waking him.

I ease his door shut behind me, the hallway dim, the early morning light not strong enough to reach through the basement windows. Brewster barrels up the stairs, and I wince at his thunderous paws, checking over my shoulder. But I make it to the top without a shirtless God following me.

Hershey greets us both in the kitchen, her tail wagging gleefully. “Good morning, girl,” I whisper, leaning to scratch her ears. She was such a good puppy sitter last night. I have no idea how long Miles and I were wrapped up in our “one kiss,” but Hershey kept Brewster entertained. It wasn’t until after I’d dozed off in Miles’ arms that I heard scratching at his bedroom door. As much as I wanted to stay cuddled against him, the fear of waking to a load of puppy potty pushed me from the bed.

I slipped on underwear and a tank, checking around for a door to a backyard. Thankfully, it was fully fenced—and thankfully, I wasn’t spotted by Miles’ sisters at any point.

Brewster ran straight for the closet when he came back inside, and I couldn’t bear the thought of him feeling so scared and alone. So I curled up next to him, despite wanting to curl up to another warm body.

A smile tugs my lips as I let Hershey and Brewster into the backyard through the same door as I did last night, their nails scratching against the tile in their urgency to relieve themselves and play in the grass. I woke up with a pillow and an incredibly comfortable blanket. Either I walked in my sleep or Miles found me there at some point and covered me up. The latter is more likely, but also harder to think about. I can’t think he’s being sincere, not with the internship still hanging in the air.

A throat clears, and I jump out of my skin, banging my elbow on the open door.

“Sorry,” a guy says from the fridge. He looks familiar, but not enough for me to say I know him. He puts his hands up as I tug on my zipper. “I… I wanted to announce my entrance, so I didn’t scare you.”

“Looks like that backfired.” I let out a whispered laugh. He catches on to my tone, and he starts to whisper as well.

“You a coffee person?” He gestures to the coffeepot on the counter, his bushy brow lifting. His hair is cropped short, almost military-like, but he’s wearing a well-used denim shirt. A red name tag is sewn to his left front pocket, but I can’t read it from here.

“Yes,” I answer, “but I need to…” I have nothing. Just that I need to get out of here before the house wakes up.

Understanding passes his features, and he nods, grabbing a jug of orange juice from the fridge. He lifts it, and I do take him up on that offer.

“It’s Val, right?” he asks, pouring me a healthy portion into a red Solo.

“Yes.” Knew I knew him from somewhere. “I’m sorry, but I don’t…”

“Paxton.” He holds his hand out, and I shake it before taking my orange juice. “I’m a friend of the family. We probably haven’t met before. I just know of you.”

My heart thumps, and I yell at it to knock that off. Miles talks about me; I knew that already from Joy, but after the whole Christmas Eve thing, a part of me wondered if she’d lied about that. Getting confirmation from two of Miles’ friends should not make my insides melt. But they do. Damn it.

I twist the end of my hair around my finger, tugging a few strands free. Will he tattle on me? I’m not exactly sneaking out—I just know if I wait for Miles to wake up, I’ll see him all bed-headed and wide-eyed, and I’ll be weak and malleable. And if he asks for anything, I’ll give it to him.

How easily my determination crumbles. Ugh, I need to watch Wonder Woman or something to get some of that woman power I’ve heard so much about.

Paxton lowers his cup, licking his lips free of orange juice. “Miles talks about how smart you are… if you’re worried about wha—”

“Please don’t tell anyone I’m sneaking out,” I blurt, dropping my hair. His eyes widen, and his lips tilt. There’s a scar above the right side, making his grin a half-smile, almost like he had a cleft palate repaired.

“No one would think twice about you being here.” He throws his hand toward the living room behind him. “I crash on the couch all the time.”

“But I… didn’t exactly…”

He holds his hand up, chuckling. “I won’t say anything.”

“Thank you.”

The dogs bound their way inside, and Paxton crouches, giving them both attention. “Who’s this?”

“Brewster. He’s a troublemaker.”

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