Sleeping With Her Enemy(69)

“You can just store your stuff at my place. I have a huge empty storage locker at my condo.”

Yeah, that was not happening. Unable to think of a way to say I don’t store my stuff with people who broke my heart, she just turned away. It wasn’t his fault—he’d delivered exactly what he’d advertised: a short-term fling. He couldn’t help it if she didn’t want it to end.

But not before her brother succumbed to Dax’s charms. “Wow,” Michael said, “that would be great. If we have to pack your whole place before tomorrow afternoon, not having to make a round trip to suburbia will be a huge help.”

“I’ll come over tomorrow and get your stuff. That will save you even more time.”

“No need,” she said. “We’ll work something out.” She could feel Michael’s eyes boring into the back of her head as she turned away, but she didn’t care. No way in hell Dax was going to brush her off and then ride to her rescue.

“I don’t need you and your millionaire-mobile,” she finally said, once she realized that everyone was waiting for her to speak and that nothing was going to happen until she did. She was being rude, but she didn’t care. She’d been so worried about observing proper post-hookup etiquette. But if they weren’t hooking up anymore, what did it matter?

She could rescue herself, thank you very much.





Chapter Sixteen

He waited until eight o’clock the next morning before pointing the millionaire-mobile northward to Amy’s. He didn’t care that she’d told him not to come. He was beyond that. Honestly, the presence of her brother was the only thing that had prevented him from going over there at three in the morning to start shoving things into boxes—all the faster to get her back into bed with him.

But really, he couldn’t legitimately suggest they pick up where they left off until moving day was over. She was stressed and distracted, understandably so. He also wanted to wait until Michael had gone home. If Jack had gone all big brother on him, who’s to say what the actual big brother would do? Hi, I’m here to defile your sister, but don’t worry, we’re both down with keeping it casual.

So he drove to Starbucks and ordered a bunch of coffees and breakfast sandwiches, and crossed his fingers as he rang the doorbell that everyone was already up.

“Oh!” Amy exclaimed when she swung open the door. Her face lit up for a split second before it shuttered. “I told you not to come.”

The trick here was to endure the body doing one thing—sweating, tensing up, yearning at the sight of the should-be-illegal beauty before him—while the face did another. Namely, be cool.

“I know. I just thought I’d see if you needed any help.” He extended the Starbucks tray. “Or coffee.”

She stared, frozen as if undecided about permitting his continued presence. He hadn’t yet decided on his next argument when the brother came to his rescue.

“Dax, is it?” Michael came forward and took a coffee. “Thanks, man. We’re actually in pretty good shape—we’ve been packing all night—but I could use some help taking apart some of the furniture. And we haven’t gone to the storage place yet, so if you’re still offering…”

“You got it. Whatever you need.” Though he was talking to Michael, Dax let himself take one more look at Amy. She was wearing a baggy T-shirt, and she had a smudge of dirt on one cheek. Her lips were pursed but after a moment she sighed, and he knew he’d won the right to stay—for now.

…

By ten, when Cassie and Jack showed up, they were actually almost done.

That didn’t mean Amy wasn’t a basket case, though. Maybe it was the lack of sleep. Maybe it was the act of going through every single item she owned and ruthlessly assessing it against a strict set of criteria she’d established to determine what would make the cut into her new life. Maybe it was saying good-bye to her first house. Maybe it was finding little things that reminded her of Mason, whether they were actually things he’d left behind, like those spacers that allow you to play forty-fives on a record player, or just things that brought to mind happier days, like the big pasta bowl they’d bought to use at their first dinner party.

Maybe it was saying good-bye to the life she’d always thought she wanted.

Or maybe, a little voice inside her said, it was saying good-bye to what she couldn’t have. Which was, irritatingly, upstairs banging around in her bedroom. How ironic.

How heartbreaking.

No, not heartbreaking, she told the little voice. She reminded it that she and Dax had never been more than friends—or frenemies, or whatever. Your frenemy couldn’t break your heart. They’d both clearly wanted a casual thing. It ran its course, which, on account of the spectacular sex, was a bummer, but if she was heartbroken right now, it was because she was literally packing up and leaving the life she’d planned on for so long with Mason.