It's Definitely Not You: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romantic Comedy Page 6

  My brother was one of the most famous singer-songwriters of the decade—Collin West. The two of us traveled the world while he toured, and I had his back through some rough shit until he met Harlow Hutton, who he promptly fell in love with and married. They’d just returned from their honeymoon, glowing from weeks of sight-seeing and sex.

  All around us, a raucous crowd laughed and celebrated the end of another weekday at The Pact, a bar owned by one of Lucas and Harlow’s brothers. Everyone in the place went about their evening, oblivious to the superstars in their midst.

  It boggled the mind.

  Harlow pulled a pair of dark-rimmed glasses down her nose and peered at me. “People know I’m from around here. They know my brother owns the bar. But a messy bun and some Clark Kent glasses keep me safe.” She shook her head. “Maybe it’d be different if they got their noses out of their phones.”

  Lucas slid in beside me, a beer clutched in each hand. “Leave it to my sister and her deep thoughts.” He hefted his drink and slid the other my way. “How’s working life? You seem like you’re in a foul mood, so I assume you’re more fulfilled than ever.”

  Collin chuckled. “It’s crazy how well you understand him. He only lived at The Hutton Hotel for a month or two, right? I didn’t fall into a time warp while Harlow and I were gone and you two had years to bond?”

  “Lucas doesn’t need to work that hard to understand Joe.” Harlow tossed a wicked grin toward her brother. “They’re both grumpy on the outside and sweet as candy in the middle.” She gave the two of us a look that said, “fight me.”

  Lucas smirked, then offered me a high-five. “Team grump for the win.”

  Never one to leave a friend hanging, I slapped his hand, then grinned at the couple across the table. “For the record, I am loving this job. I’ve got the front porch fully restored and it turned out really well, if I do say so myself. I hope I can do the rest of the place justice because under all that neglect is a gorgeous house.”

  Penny Dreadful’s not-so-dreadful curves popped into my mind. The fact that I couldn’t stop thinking about the woman drove me crazier than she did.

  Harlow leaned forward and met my eyes. I could have sworn the woman saw right into the dirty thoughts strutting through my mind. “Why do I sense a but coming?”

  “Why do you always think you know everything about everything, Princess?”

  “Because I do.” She gave me the sweetest smile that ever was.

  I couldn’t fight her on that one. Harlow could cut through bullshit faster than anyone I knew. “Fine. There’s a but. And it’s a big one.” Or a fabulous one, depending on the view. “The woman who owns the house is a real peach. Her granddaughter? Not so much. She’s working an angle. I don’t know what it is, yet, but I feel it in my bones.”

  Collin leveled me with a look that meant trouble. “You thought that about Harlow when you first met her.”

  “Yeah, but this woman’s different. It’s like she wants me to hate her. She threatened to call the cops on me. Punched me in the face. Made me hammer off the nail on my middle finger.” I proudly held up the wounded digit and grinned as my friends flinched. “I can’t fucking stand her and the feeling is definitely mutual.”

  “Does she live at the house, too?” Lucas sipped his beer, exchanging a glance I couldn’t decipher with his sister.

  “Nope.” I raised my eyes to the heavens with a silent “thank you.” “I might have to quit if that was the case. And then I’d be screwed. I wouldn’t be able to open my business…”

  Collin rolled his eyes. “What? Did the Huttons charge you for staying at the hotel? Did that ancient truck cost more than it should? You have a gambling addiction I’m not aware of? You have plenty of money to start your business without having to earn it. I know because my accountant had a lot to say about the significant chunk of payroll with your name on it.” He raised his eyebrows in exasperation.

  The feeling was mutual.

  Thanks to my brother’s generosity, I had an obscene amount of money in an account with my name on it. Since I hadn’t done anything to actually earn the fortune, spending it made me feel like the biggest mooch of all time. I’d used it for food, to buy the cheapest truck I could find, and that was about it. Every swipe of the card was another pebble in the pile labeled “Why Joe Channing is an Asshole.”

  After years of living off Collin’s success, I needed to create my own. To find purpose and meaning the way he had. Building myself from the ground up on his dime felt like cheating.

  “I didn’t earn that money, brother.” I glared, hoping to warn him off the topic, but he’d never been good at taking my advice.

  Lucas lifted his beer and smirked at Harlow. “Here we go again.”

  Collin rolled his eyes. “You gave up your job. Your life. You ditched your dreams to help me realize mine, stopped me from making terrible mistakes, fought off people who wanted to use me, and generally kept me sane. I’d say you fucking earned more than I paid you.”

  “When you put it that way…” I quirked my head and took a drink. “You didn’t make things easy. But that doesn’t mean I earned the money. I followed you because that’s what you do for people who matter. You take care of them. You don’t earn an income caring for family.”

  “Everyone who went on tour with me earned a salary. Yours is just bigger than you expected.”

  He did have a point. Of sorts. Anyone else would have earned a salary for what I did. Maybe not quite as much as what he gave me. But they would have been paid.

  “Collin…” I looked to Lucas for help, but he appeared lost in the intricate art of arranging salt and pepper shakers. “You made your way off of your grit and talent. It’s time for me to do that, too.”

  “I didn’t do it without your help, and you shouldn’t do it without mine.”

  The statement touched me, but I couldn’t let him see he’d made a point or else he’d moved in for the kill while I was vulnerable. “I’ve considered donating the money to charity, if you don’t mind.”

  Collin sat back in the booth with a sigh. “You’ll never be able to open a business if you don’t have capital. Besides, you need to eat. To buy yourself a new pair of boots. You stood up for me all those years, let me return the favor.”

  “Maybe I can use some of the money on the renovations?” I hated how uncertain I sounded as much as I hated living off my brother’s success.

  “Look, Joe. The money is yours. Do whatever the fuck you want with it. But I’d be happiest if you used it to set yourself up.” He wrapped an arm around a giggling Harlow and pulled her close.

  “You two are something, else,” she said as she nuzzled into his side.

  Collin pressed a kiss into her hair. “I don’t know why I’m surprised when he’s this stubborn.”

  I gave them my most winning smile. “You know you’d be disappointed in me if I gave in without a fight.”

  Collin rolled his eyes, but didn’t take the bait and conversation moved on.

  The night finished with me in a much better mood than it began, as tended to happen when spending time with my brother and his new family. I drove home, mulling over what to do about the money. I still wasn’t convinced I should spend it on myself, but using some to surprise Maxine had a certain allure. Her study had two beautiful bump-out windows with a wall begging for bookshelves between them. The idea had fascinated her when I brought it up, but she shut the project down because she’d rather spend money on structural upgrades than cosmetic ones.

  But…

  …I could install them as a gift.

  As I drove, my imagination went to work designing the shelves, evaluating wood grain, structure, and stain colors until I knew exactly how they should look. My mind cheered at the idea of adding a reading nook to one of the windows, then suggested I put some of her husband’s pictures in a place of honor…

  I pulled to a stop in front of the house and my good mood clutched its heart, sputtered at the sky, and died on the sp
ot. A certain Honda lurked in the driveway, the trunk open as Kennedy Reagan Monroe yanked not one, but two suitcases out of the back. The slam of my truck door caught her attention and she whirled, then went immediately back to her task when her gaze landed on mine.

  I stopped out of range of her right hook. “You weren’t content with ruining my life every other day? Needed to find a way to injure me on a more consistent basis?” A smile stretched my face, but when she met my eyes it fell to the ground beside my good mood. I couldn’t take joy in jabbing at someone who looked so sad.

  Even if that someone was Penny Dreadful.

  “How cute that you think this is about you.” Fatigue hunched her back and her words lacked the fire I’d come to anticipate.

  “I just know someone who hates this house so much wouldn’t deign to move in.” Putting a hand to my heart, I gasped with as much drama as I could muster, but even then she didn’t take the bait.

  Interesting.

  And…concerning, too.

  Without another word, she trundled up the walk. I reached for one of her bags, but she yanked it away. “Thanks, but I’ve got it.”

  “That doesn’t mean you should turn down help when it’s offered.”

  “It does when it’s from you.” She yanked the suitcase out of my hands again and strode away, pausing at the base of the stairs. “Look. It’s been a very long day. If I’m being rude, I’m sorry.”

  “If you’re being rude?” I gave her my most charming grin. “You’ve taken unpleasantness to an entirely new level.”

  “Fine,” she said with a smile that looked heavy. “How about, I’m being rude and I’m sorry. And there are a few more things in my trunk, if you’re still willing to help.”

  She stared for a few lingering seconds, her smile lightening, then turned away. I braced for the thud of suitcase wheels thumping up the new steps, but she carefully lifted each bag to the porch like they didn’t weigh at least fifty pounds each.

  A closer inspection of her trunk made it obvious Penny Dreadful was moving in. “Great,” I muttered. “Guess that’s what I get for saying I’d have to quit the job if she lived here.”

  I hefted her things into my arms and followed her inside, trying to grumble the whole way.

  Surprisingly enough, I wasn’t nearly as put out by her moving in as I pretended to be.

  Chapter Eleven

  Kennedy

  Thump. Thump! THUMP! Frickity-bang-bong-THUMP!

  As if the fear of a ceiling collapsing on me wasn’t enough to question staying at Nan’s, the incessant hammering, wood clattering to the ground, and scream of Joe’s saw had my nerves teetering over the edge. I actually missed Jake, Paul-whatever, and the quiet guy…

  The thought of black things skittering through sopping wet carpet ended that statement before I could finish it. Joe was bad, but staying at my apartment was worse.

  With medical journals and blogs open on multiple tabs of my browser, I’d started Saturday morning in search of knowledge. How did I show empathy for my patients and still get out of exam rooms without the buzz of Emmanuel’s timer announcing defeat? The jury was decidedly out, but I’d find the answer without the help of Nose Boop Ramsey, thank you very much.

  Thwunk!

  I flinched.

  Bonk!

  I scowled.

  Brrrrraaappp!

  I clapped my laptop closed, shoved my phone in my pocket, and stalked down a set of stairs that shrieked under my weight, putting the now silent squeaker outside to shame.

  It’ll be a miracle when Joe finally starts working on the interior of the house…

  I squashed that thought like one of Barnhart’s bugs.

  Joe belonged to the dark side, rendering him incapable of miracles by default.

  With my hands on my hips and my rage cranked to righteous, I stormed into the backyard and pulled up short to find Joe with his shirt off. His lean body glistened in the sun, sweat forging sensuous trails down his abdomen. He hefted a massive piece of lumber onto a table with a circle-shaped saw and a frisson of pleasure zinged through my body.

  Hello, lumbersexual lust.

  Shirtless Joe definitely made the day a little brighter.

  I’d have to concede a point to Nan.

  He glanced up and caught me staring and his smirk tore through my admiration. “Can I help you?”

  Dialing my indignation back up where it belonged, I shifted my weight to my heels. “Can you be any louder?”

  “I’m sorry.” Joe placed a hand over his heart. “I forgot to bring my padded hammer. I could try ramming the nails into the wood with the palm of my hand, if that would make things better for you.”

  Obviously, I was being ridiculous, but what did he expect? It was like the man made a point of getting under my skin.

  An apology tried to slip out, but I clamped my mouth shut. After his reaction to the hammer-meet-finger disaster, where I genuinely felt bad and wanted to help, I wouldn’t make the mistake of being decent again.

  I shifted my attention to his project. “I thought Nan said she couldn’t afford bookshelves.”

  With the sigh to end all sighs, Joe stared at his feet for a long time. “She was also disappointed to nix them as they’re exactly what her study needs.”

  “That doesn’t change the fact that she can’t afford them.”

  Why did I need to explain something so basic?

  Oh wait.

  Because I was chatting with the devil himself.

  Joe’s tongue went into his lip. His hands into his pockets. If ever there was a posture that screamed “I’m on the defensive and don’t want to talk about this!” his scowling face would be linked beside the Wikipedia entry. “It doesn’t matter. It’s fine.”

  “It does matter and it’s not fine.”

  He met my gaze, pleading me to drop the topic. “It’s really nothing to worry about.”

  “Spending my grandmother’s money without her permission is definitely something to worry about.”

  “Why?” And just like that, the fire lit in his eyes again. “Worried about your inheritance?”

  “For shit’s sake, Joe…” It was the first time I’d said his name to his face and it hung in the air like a helium balloon of surprise.

  Neither of us spoke.

  Or knew what to do.

  Or how to move forward with it between us.

  My phone buzzed in my pocket, popping the moment. Thankful for anywhere else to spend my energy, I whipped it out and froze.

  Dorothy: We have a code Toto. Repeat, code Toto.

  While I didn’t quite follow her logic code-wise, I understood what she wanted to convey. Shane Samuels was at the clinic again.

  “Shit.”

  Joe looked oddly concerned as he stepped closer. “Everything okay?”

  I waved him off. “It’s fine. I’m sorry I was a bitch about the noise. Hammer away.” I sprinted for my car, and hopped in, paying zero attention to the posted speed or the music coming over my speakers as I sped across town.

  When I arrived at the clinic, Dorothy skipped our customary greeting and waved me over. “I have Toto stashed in room one. Doctor Fitzgerald doesn’t even know he’s here.”

  “Toto?” I whispered in return, still trying to connect the dots on her choice of code words.

  Dorothy leaned even closer. “Shane Samuels,” she hissed dramatically.

  I laughed. “I got that far. I don’t get how…” I waved the rest of my statement away. “Never mind. We’ll talk about it later.”

  Hurrying back to room one, I realized that like it or not, good at it or not, I’d dropped myself into a life of subterfuge. Wouldn’t Nan be surprised to find I was pulling it off? Though, maybe it was too early to congratulate myself on success. After all, I’d thought I could drag her through my apartment without tipping her off that I was up to something. What obvious pitfalls was I missing with Shane?

  I knocked quietly on the door, then stepped inside. “Hey there, buddy
.”

  “Where’s your white coat?”

  I stared down at my yoga pants and oversized tee. “I forgot it at home. When I heard you were waiting for me, I got here as fast as I could.”

  My words earned me one of those hummingbird smiles.

  I perched on my stool, assessing the kid from head to toe. The bandage was off on his finger. The wound looked like it was healing. His eyes seemed bright. Coloring good. Hands clean. Shoes tied. Shane seemed healthy and whole. “What brought you here today?”

  “You said to find you if I have a problem.”

  His hesitance had me reassessing my conclusion. What wasn’t I seeing?

  “I sure did say that. What can I help you with?”

  He picked at the hem of his shirt, hunching in on himself so much he reminded me of a hedgehog. “Mom’s at work and I’m real hungry.”

  I slow-blinked, more confused by his statement than a nose boop from a coworker. “Don’t you have any food at your house?”

  He shook his head. “Mom gets paid tomorrow.”

  I slow-blinked again. My instinct was to take the kid to the store and stock his cupboards, but I didn’t have enough information about his mother. Would he get in trouble if she came home to a full kitchen? Would that keep him from showing up if he needed help again? Two bone-jarring thoughts interrupted my concern for the boy in front of me.

  What if this wasn’t a Shane-specific problem?

  What if more of my patients ignored rumbling bellies until payday?

  Promising I’d think more on that later, I pondered the ramifications of taking Shane out to eat. Was it kidnapping if I had good intentions? For that matter, did I even care what they called it? There wasn’t a chance I would let the kid walk around hungry.

  “Tell you what.” I slapped my thighs. “I just realized I’m starved. You like hamburgers?”

  I took Shane through a drive-thru and loaded him up on cheap calories. Hamburgers. French fries. Milkshakes. Notice the plurals. Bags of food filled my passenger seat.