Faking With The Enemy: An Enemies-To-Lovers RomCom: Milestone Mischief #2 Read online

  Faking With the Enemy

  Milestone Mischief #2

  Piper James

  Copyright © 2021 by Piper Jmaes

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  For all those couples who love to hate and hate to love…it can be fun, walking that thin line between the two.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Epilogue

  Untitled

  Teasing Mr. Moneybags

  Acknowledgments

  Also by Piper James

  1

  Nate

  Ever had one of those days when everything seemed to go to shit, and you just couldn’t drag yourself out of the muck? Yeah? Me, too.

  “Damn that woman.”

  I’d been staring at the blank form on my computer screen for at least ten minutes, the flashing cursor mocking me as I fought the urge to toss the laptop out the nearest window. Mr. Stevenson was waiting for his quote, and I could see him checking his watch for the hundredth time through the glass partition that separated my office from the waiting room.

  I should’ve been done with it seven minutes ago, but I was having trouble focusing.

  Damn her.

  Shaking my head and taking a deep breath, I began to type.

  Brake pads are at fifteen percent in front and twenty percent in back. Recommend replacements, as well as a new air filter, tire rotation and windshield wiper blades. Total cost: $200

  I tapped the keys that would send the quote to the tech’s tablet and leaned back in my chair. I could’ve recommended a dozen other repairs and upgrades, but Mr. Stevenson was retired and living month-to-month on meager social security checks. I knew he couldn’t afford to pay anything but the bare minimum, which was why I only charged him half the labor costs and discounted his parts whenever he brought his truck in.

  Of course, he didn’t know that. He’d flat-out order me to charge him full price if he did. His pride wouldn’t allow him to accept anything less.

  With that task off my plate, my mind refocused on what had recently become the bane of my existence—Charity Glasscott.

  Her high-heeled shoes had tapped their way across the concrete floors of my shop this morning, the noise echoing around me like a bad omen as her smile sent a shiver skittering down my spine. A shiver of revulsion.

  I’d made a mistake—a big one.

  Two weeks ago, after a couple of beers with my best friend Dane, she’d walked into the bar with that pretty face and those long, luscious legs and set out to turn me into another notch on her bedpost. Maybe I was horny. Maybe I was just bored. Whatever it was, I’d shrugged at Dane and agreed to let Charity take me home.

  When it was over, she was a boneless mess, puddled in her sheets with a satisfied grin on her face. The whole thing for me was barely above a “meh” on the sex scale, but I was careful not to let her know that. I didn’t want to hurt her feelings.

  God, I wished I had.

  Because one taste of my magic dick was never enough.

  I barked a self-deprecating laugh at the thought. Back when I was younger, my older brother Rafe constantly tried to curb my gluttonous sexcapades. He told me they’d get me in trouble one day, and I’d always scoffed at his efforts.

  I’d told him it wasn’t my fault. That my magic dick had become the stuff of legends, and girls were coming out of the woodwork to experience it for themselves. How was I supposed to resist? I was only human.

  I was such a fucking cocky idiot back then. And apparently, still was.

  Charity had walked right into my office and told me in no uncertain terms that she wanted me again. When I tried to let her down gently, she’d gone on the offensive with calculated candor. She wanted me in her bed, and she always got what she wanted.

  And if I refused her demands, she would go straight to daddy.

  Normally, I would have laughed at the threat, but her words had sent a new chill prickling down my spine. Her father was Chester Glasscott, owner of Milestone Bank and Trust…the very bank that holds the loan for my shop, Walton’s Auto Repair.

  Charity didn’t mince words, telling me outright that if I didn’t fall into line and become her lover, exclusively, she’d go to her father, give him some sob story about how I’d used and abused her, and have him fudge the numbers to make my loan fall into default.

  I could lose my business. And depending how depraved Charity’s lying mouth became, I could lose my freedom.

  I could lose everything.

  I’d considered giving in. I could give her what she wanted…maybe. I was so pissed and frankly, appalled by her demands, I wasn’t sure I could even get it up for her at this point.

  But where would it end? Would I be stuck, performing for her every whim until my loan was fully paid off? I still owed ten years’ worth of payments.

  No fucking way.

  I’d considered applying for a new loan at a different bank, but unfortunately, MB&T held a monopoly in Milestone—there were no other choices. And the national bank chains had only offered me exorbitant interest rates. I was stuck.

  Between a rock and a hard place.

  “Hey, Nate,” Dane said, poking his head through my door. “It’s almost closing time, and I’ve got Jason pulling in the cars. Do you need anything else?”

  “No,” I said. “You go ahead. I’m just going to finish up here, then I’ll lock up.”

  “You okay?” he asked, stepping fully into my office and closing the door behind him. “You seem…off.”

  I knew what he was asking. He’d seen Charity come in, and had caught my eye through the glass window while she’d been laying out her demands. It had been obvious I was pissed, and he’d raised his eyebrows before pointing at himself then at me, silently asking if I’d needed his help.

  I’d shaken my head slightly at him, and he’d shrugged, leaving me to handle it on my own. Now, though, was another matter.

  “You’ve been in a funk since that chick from the bar showed up here earlier. What did she want, anyway? More sex?”

  He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, and my frown deepened. The mischievous glint disappeared from his eyes, and his lips turned down as he waited for me to answer.

  “Charity Glasscott. Daughter of Chester Glasscott,” I said.

  “Why does that name ring a bell?” he asked, scratching his head.

  “Because he owns the
bank.”

  “Oh, that’s right,” he said, cocking his head. “What did she want?”

  “You weren’t wrong,” I sighed. “She wants more sex.”

  “And that’s a bad thing, because…” he said, waiting for me to finish the sentence.

  “Because I don’t want to,” I said, “and she threatened to have her father put my loan into default if I don’t give it up—wherever and whenever she wants it.”

  “What the fuck?” he shouted. “That’s bullshit. Not to mention illegal. You should go to the cops.”

  “I don’t have any proof, Dane. And besides, who’s going to believe me over her? She’s one of Milestone’s elite, while I’m just a grease monkey who barely graduated high school.”

  “Nate,” he said, his voice deep with reprimand.

  “I know,” I said, waving a hand in the air. “I’ve made something of myself, and I should be proud. I am proud of what I’ve accomplished here, Dane. And Charity Glasscott could take it all away, just like that.”

  I snapped my fingers and slumped back into my chair. What a fucking nightmare.

  “All of your hard work has turned this place into a success,” he said. “Just apply some of that cunning and work ethic into getting out of this situation, and you’ll figure it out.”

  “You think so?” I asked, arching one brow at him.

  “I know so,” he said, turning to leave. “Good night, boss man.”

  “Night, Dane.”

  I sat in silence, my brain working overtime to come up with a solution. I couldn’t see a way past this, and I was becoming more and more agitated as the minutes ticked by. I had to figure something out, because becoming Charity Glasscott’s whore was not an acceptable choice. Not by any stretch of the imagination.

  My phone chimed with an alert, and I groaned as I read the message. It was a reminder from my sister Lola that we had dinner plans tonight with Rafe. We were meeting up with his girlfriend—though I wasn’t sure girlfriend was the right word for her—and his best friend from work.

  Ivy Anderson. If anything could take my mind off the shit storm that hit me today, it was her.

  2

  Ivy

  I did not want to go to this dinner tonight. I loved Rafe like a brother, and Jessa was such a nice girl. If I’d been invited to join just the two of them, I’d be all in. But that wasn’t the case.

  Rafe’s brother and sister would be there two, and he expected me to act as a kind of buffer between them and Jessa. I told him he was being an idiot, but he was fighting his feelings for her and wanted everything to stay casual and light.

  And that meant not having her as the only non-family member at a family dinner. Which was where I came in.

  Rafe’s sister Lola was a total sweetheart—kind, considerate, funny, and uber-smart. She was six years younger than him and still in college. She’d graduate next year, a full year early, with a degree in business, and Rafe was so proud of her.

  He’d finished raising her after their parents died when he was eighteen, and she’d turned into a wonderful woman. She wasn’t the problem with tonight’s dinner.

  It was Nate Walton that had my nerves tangling up like puppet strings. And I hated myself for that.

  My mind drifted back to when I’d first met Nate. I hadn’t been in Milestone long, moving here after earning my nursing degree and scoring a job in the emergency room in the town’s only hospital. Rafe and I had been working together for a few weeks, and he was fast becoming my best friend.

  When he’d introduced me to Nate and Lola, I’d been smitten with both of them. Lola, with her quiet sweetness and Nate, with his effervescent charm—they’d both won me over within minutes.

  Nate, especially. He had this magnetic force about him, and I was powerless to resist. Not only was he hot as hell with those dark, Hispanic looks and bright blue eyes, he emanated this flirtatious charm that warmed my heart.

  And other parts that had lain dormant for a long, long time.

  For a while, it seemed like something sparked between us. Flirty banter, steamy gazes, and seemingly innocent brushes of a hand kept me keyed up and ready to explode for weeks. I wanted to jump his bones, despite his being Rafe’s brother and theoretically off-limits.

  Best friend code be damned. I’d rather ask for forgiveness than permission. Nate Walton would be worth whatever grief Rafe heaped on me afterwards. I just knew it.

  I never acted on my attraction, thank God, because I couldn’t have been more wrong about him. I’d seen it with my own eyes, and no amount of bleach could scrub the image from them.

  I slumped onto my couch as the memories of that night assailed me.

  “Excuse me. I’ll be right back.”

  As Nate said those words, his gaze burned into me, bright and hot like a sunburst. He stood from his chair, giving me one last look before navigating his way through the tables toward the hallway where the restrooms were located.

  We were at Hero’s Pizza and More, having dinner with Rafe and Lola, and his electric blue eyes had been burning holes through me the entire time. He’d always been playful with me, throwing out phrases with double-meanings and seductive winks as if he were daring me to give into him. But tonight was different.

  His whole demeanor was darker. More intent. His gaze was filled with need, and every time his shoe brushed against mine under the table, one corner of his mouth turned up, showcasing a deep dimple I wanted to explore with my tongue.

  Slowly, he’d licked the hot wing sauce from his lips while he stared, making me press my thighs together. My panties were soaked, and an aching emptiness inside me begged to be filled…by his cock.

  It was a dangerous game we were playing, shooting off fireworks while hoping Rafe and Lola didn’t notice.

  And now, what? That look he gave me as he left the table ordered me to follow him. Could I really do this? Could I satisfy my need for Nate Walton in a public restroom? Should I?

  I knew I shouldn’t, but that didn’t stop me from making my own excuses and leaving the table. I was no longer in control. My libido had taken over my brain, and I was going to taste Nate right now, consequences be damned.

  When I reached the small hallway, my eyes flicked between the two doors. I wasn’t sure, exactly, where Nate went. Nor did I think I had the guts to push my way into the men’s room looking for him. What if some dude was in there taking a piss at the urinals? Gross.

  Shaking my head, I pushed open the door to the ladies’ room. I froze, my brain not quite deciphering what my eyes were seeing.

  Nate had his back against the far wall, his eyes squeezed shut as if he were in pain…or in the throes of pleasure. A woman was leaning into him, her mouth on his neck as her hands fumbled with the buckle of his belt. He raised his hands to grasp her shoulders, and I bolted.

  I ran back to our table, mumbled off some bullshit excuse about being nauseous to Rafe and Lola, and rushed out of the restaurant, eager to get away from Nate Walton. From his lying eyes and treacherous smiles. From my most utter and extreme humiliation.

  I opened my eyes and pulled myself from the memory. It had been years since that night, and I still remembered it as if it had happened yesterday. And it still hurt, no matter how many times I told myself it shouldn’t.

  We weren’t together at the time. I’d misread his signals. It was my fault for letting his sly flirtations get under my skin when it was just fun and games to him.

  It didn’t matter. I’d decided that night, while my tears soaked my pillow, that Nate Walton would never hurt me again. A seed of hatred sprouted in my heart, and I nurtured it. It grew, unchecked, until I couldn’t stand to breathe the same air as him.

  I never hesitated to let him know how much he disgusted me. And he never asked why. Not once.

  His lack of curiosity over my sudden personality transplant made one thing clear to me—he already knew the cause of it. Which meant he either knew I’d seen him with that tramp and didn’t care…or the whole thing had b
een some cruel, twisted set up meant to cut me deep.

  While I didn’t want to believe the latter to be true, the idea that Nate had trifled with my emotions like that wouldn’t fade.

  And now, I’d let Rafe rook me into yet another family dinner. He’d begged me to come. He was fighting his feelings for Jessa, trying to keep things casual because of some unrealistic pact they’d made when things started between them.

  I could see that he was fast on his way to love, but he refused to open his own eyes and thought my presence would make everything more relaxed.

  As if. When Nate and I are in the same room, there’s nothing relaxing about it.

  A horn honked outside, and I knew my time was up. Rafe insisted on driving me, like he feared I would flake out if left to my own devices. And I might’ve, too.

  This dinner was going to be hell.

  “Aren’t you going to say hello to me, Ivy?”

  “Go fuck yourself, Nate.”

  The words flew from my mouth before I could stop them, and I felt the heat of a blush riding my cheeks. We were sitting around a large table in the middle of the restaurant, and I was tucked between Lola and Jessa—as far away from Nate as I could get. And yet, he may as well have been sitting on top of me with the way I was reacting to his proximity.

  This was going to be bad.

  “I’m sorry for these two, Jessa,” Lola said right before Nate grunted in pain. She’d obviously kicked him under the table. “I don’t know why Rafe thought it would be a good idea to bring them together like this, again.”