Enemies With Benefits Read online

  “I’ve had tattoos before, and the artist was rough when they cleaned it up.” She licked her lips and swung her legs over the table toward me. “With how careful you were, I bet you’re great at taking care of other things,” she purred.

  I picked up the saran wrap and motioned for her to stand. She parted her legs enough for me to get my hands through to wrap her thigh, covering the ink. “Take this off when you get home,” I said, ignoring what she’d insinuated. I rattled off the aftercare speech, then removed my black medical gloves.

  She lowered her peach-colored dress, the hem falling mid-way down her upper thigh, the short length not covering her new ink. “You could take it off for me?” she asked.

  I looked up then, and stood, my gaze falling down on her. I leaned closer, not smiling, not making any kind of expression, and parted my lips. I could’ve kissed her with how close I got. I was paid to do that shit, and the women that came to see me loved it.

  Her eyes fell to my mouth as I spoke. “No, thank you.” Another time, I might’ve taken her up on her offer, but this time I was pissed.

  Her jaw dropped, and I turned away from her. I had to get out of the shop and to the studio to do a few more practices with the guys before Friday and Saturday.

  Chapter 2

  Ashley.

  Blisters upon blisters covered the backs of my feet, the painful stings pulsating in time with my heart, the same as the enormous headache behind my eyes.

  The dreams I’d had for my life weren’t quite like how they'd turned out. Far from it. The shit I’d had to put up with—the customers that wouldn’t leave me the fuck alone, even their guests were a giant pain. My true dreams didn’t involve getting my ass stared at by pervs sitting with their wives, talking to them while trying to see down my fucking shirt, not hiding the fact that I was their focus instead of the person they married.

  Yuck.

  I hated those times, but I couldn’t complain too much. I was paid well for what I did in my side gig, and I had repeat customers who wanted large orders.

  One of those orders was a private request and had come in the form of a family friend—a woman close to me who was organizing a party for her fiancé. I smiled at the thought of visiting my mom and dad and was excited to spend time with them.

  God, I missed them so much.

  My phone chimed, alerting me to a text I’d received. It was the tone I used for my mom, so I made sure to answer right away.

  I wiped my hands on my hand towel and dug into my apron for my phone.

  Mom: I’m so excited for you to come, sweetheart. Your dad and I have set your room up for you.

  I rolled my eyes but grinned.

  Me: Thanks, Mom. I can’t wait to see you guys.

  There was somebody that was always invited but hardly ever showed up, and my heart broke every time I saw the look on Lily’s face when there was another no-show. It was a good thing she had her fiancé to lean on because she sure as shit couldn’t count on the one person she loved more than anything to get over himself and show his face.

  Mom: Lily’s talked non-stop about you coming home. I think she’s just as excited as I am.

  I beamed as I read the text, but my chest tightened at the word ‘home.’ I’d visited often, sure, but it hadn’t been my home since I’d left for college.

  Me: Me too. I’m going on a night out with a few of my friends before heading there, so I’ll set up on Sunday before the guests arrive. The delivery should be there either when I get there or shortly after.

  Mom: Great, you need to enjoy yourself! We’re here to help with anything you need, okay?

  Me: Thanks, Mom. I gotta go back to work, but I’ll see you soon. I love you.

  I swallowed hard and the bridge of my nose stung a little as my mom’s reply came right back.

  Mom: We love you too, honey. And, while you’re busy, think about what we talked about the last time you were here, please? Just think about it. We miss you so much.

  Me: I miss you too. I’ll think about it, but I’m not promising anything will change.

  It wouldn’t. I’d been in college only six months when I’d had to change my entire plan overnight, so to just drop everything I’d achieved to move back to Charleston, the place where my heart had been broken into pieces, wasn’t a thought I’d consider any time soon. It’s not like I’d moved far away, but it was enough to reconsider the drive if I was tired.

  Mom: That’s all we ask.

  I pocketed my phone again and wiped the beginnings of moisture that had begun to pool in my lids. I smiled wide when a fiery brunette walked into my preparation area, a huge grin on her face and her light eyes bright under the bright lights above my workspace.

  “Do you want me to place the order for next weekend’s parties now or do you want to wait until mid-week?” Callie asked. She was a colleague and had become a great friend.

  She and I had had many girls’ nights, spilling secrets from our pasts, and even shed tears during one of our drunken conversations.

  “Place the order, but have Nico hold it for me,” I replied as I grabbed my notepad and pen from my drawer, then jotted down what I needed for Frankie’s birthday party and Lily’s upcoming bachelorette party. I was glad it was women only in our section—no chance of a surprise visit from her son. “I want to make sure everything’s fresh when I get it.” Nico was great like that. I’d never been let down by him before. I knew when Kevin got his supplies for the bakery, so to ensure I got mine too, I made sure to order my deliveries the same day he ordered his.

  “No problem,” she replied and checked off the list on her clipboard. “And do you have the cakes sorted for Mrs. Pascal?”

  I looked up from the vanilla sponges I was still spreading raspberry cream on, and raised a brow “Really?” I looked pointedly at the individual serving-sized cakes, perfectly round and baked that morning.

  Callie chuckled. “I take that as a yes?”

  I narrowed my eyes and pursed my lips, holding back a smile. I held the end of my spatula with my index finger, lifted it up, and the second Callie’s eyes widened, I released, sending a glob of cream her way.

  She shrieked just as it landed right on her forehead. “Ash!”

  I cackled and got back to my work, still chuckling as I picked up the bag of thick cream while Callie scooped across her forehead to remove the sugary ammo. “Did you actually aim for there or was it a lucky shot?” she asked, then licked the sticky mess from her fingers.

  I grinned. “I aimed. Impressed?”

  She nodded while finishing off the remains of cream. “Kudos, babe!” she said, her tone higher as if in awe.

  I took a bow with my arms stretched out. “Thank you, my fine lady. I’ve been working on my skills for some time.”

  Callie flicked her dark ponytail back over her shoulder, then smoothed down her burgundy waist apron. “Well, you better hurry and work those skills on those cakes. Mrs. Pascal is due in five minutes to pick them up.”

  I saluted her, then finished piping the edges.

  I placed eight cakes in a white box, tied a shiny burgundy ribbon around it, then placed a sticker with the name of the bakery on the top.

  Lovell’s Cakes and Pastries.

  Yeah, I was living somebody else’s dream, and every time I pressed one of those stickers to something I’d created, spent time decorating, crafting as perfect as I could, memories came flooding back to me of a time when I’d shared my dreams—my secret wishes—with somebody I should never have.

  The boy who’d moved across the street from me who’d held a grudge from the day we’d met.

  And from that day on, we were at war. A war I’d tried to end, even tried to ignore, but when certain words fell from the jackass’ mouth, the intended ceasefire was halted.

  Twelve years ago.

  “Be nice,” I heard Mrs. Bennet, Lily, say in the hallway.

  My mom had invited her over for dinner and I was in charge of making the dessert. My dad liked it whe
n I did—he’d said I was a natural, and that made me happy. I was already mixing the last ingredients together, ready to put the sauce on the pie.

  “What’s that?”

  I turned to look over my shoulder at Alex standing in the kitchen doorway, right under the white frame. He hadn’t spoken to me since the day I made him stand in a puddle a few weeks ago, except to call me names while pulling faces at me.

  He was so mean, and when the girls in our class saw and heard, they wouldn’t speak to me anymore. I didn’t have many friends anyway, and because of Alex, I had almost none. My dad said that if they did that, then they weren’t my friends to begin with. But, it still hurt that they’d taken his side instead of mine. They knew how he’d been upset that I was a girl instead of a boy, but even though they were girls too, they continued to try to be friends with him, smiling and giggling whenever he was near them.

  “Mud pie,” I replied, smirking. I hoped he’d get the meaning, and by the way his mouth pursed, he definitely did. Alex’s eyes narrowed. He had pretty eyes, the bluest I’d ever seen on a boy. They stood out more because of his dark eyelashes. “Do you want some?”

  His face twisted like he’d smelled something bad. “Why would I want mud pie?” he asked, his voice low and sharp, kind of like how he spoke when he had to be near me in school. He kept looking at me, and heat rose to my face while he stared.

  I checked my purple apron, seeing the small smudges of fudge sauce on some of the pink flowers on the pattern. My grandma had made it for me, and it was my favorite one.

  “I dunno,” I said, then turned back to the bowl. “Because I made it?” I stupidly hoped he’d want to try, considering he’d missed out on the cupcakes.

  I heard Alex take a few steps toward me and my heart sped up. It did on the first day, right when I saw how pretty he was, but it’d hurt when he was horrible.

  “Why are you making that anyway?”

  “Dessert,” I said quietly. “I’m practicing.”

  “What for? Why the hell would you need to practice?”

  I stopped stirring and looked up at him when he came to a stop next to me, seeing how his black hair fell messily over his forehead. “I’m going to be a chef someday.”

  His head tilted to the side. “A chef?”

  I smiled. I liked how he was talking to me now, even though it’d probably change in school. “Mhm. I’m gonna make huge wedding cakes that are all fancy, and I’m gonna make the food for the wedding people and their friends.” I beamed, proud of myself. My desserts were already a hit and I was only eleven! “I’ll even have my own bakery, and people will call and want me to make them nice things for their parties because they want to be all fancy too.”

  Alex’s face changed. He’d looked like he was interested, but now his brows were together and his plump top lip was curled up. “You think those people will want you to make their stuff?”

  I tipped my head to the side, wondering why he was asking me in that way. His eyes moved to where my ponytail had slipped over my shoulder.

  I pushed it back and his eyes moved to my face. “Yeah.” I spooned the fudge sauce over the pie, then put it in the fridge to set. I had to stand on my tiptoes to put it on the top shelf where there was enough room.

  “Why would they want you?”Alex asked.

  I turned back to him and saw his hands were in the front pockets of his blue jeans, making his red T-shirt bunch. I liked that color on him; it looked brighter because of his dark hair. I’d never tell him that, though, he’d think I liked him, and I didn’t.

  “Because I’m going to be great.” I was confident that when I learned all about baking and decorating more than I already did, I was going to have my own shop where people would stand in line for the things I made, and then they’d call me and beg to be on my special list for enormous cakes and pretty designs.

  I started to smile again at the thought. But, when I saw Alex’s curled lip again, it fell.

  He snorted a laugh, and he snarled. “Great at being a pile of horseshit.” My insides dropped, falling to the floor as he laughed. “Nobody would want you—you’re a trash magnet.” He gestured around the kitchen. “Look at all this garbage.” He jerked his chin at the egg carton with cracked shells inside, the empty bag from the flour, and the used utensils I needed to wash. The kitchen was a mess, but I’d only just finished. “Then again, you’re right where you belong.” He towered over me, looking down through narrowed eyes, and speaking through gritted teeth. “You should stick to making mud pies for your imaginary friends—they’re the only ones you’ve got left.”

  My nose stung and my eyes filled, my vision blurring through the thick tears. “You’re mean,” I said, but it came out as a whisper because I was trying not to cry. When I blinked, the tears fell down my cheeks and ran over the sides of my mouth.

  Alex stared at them as they dripped from my jaw. He shrugged and looked back into my eyes. “Just saying what I see, and that’s a trash magnet that needs to go to the dump where they belong, along with their shitty pies and disgusting food.”

  My chin wobbled and my lower lip quivered. My heart hurt at what he said, and as he smirked at me, his face scrunched in disgust, I couldn’t hold back any more tears. I burst out crying, my sobs loud as I pushed past him and ran out of the room.

  “Ash?” my mom called out, but I didn’t answer.

  I ran up the stairs, my feet pounding hard on the gray carpet, and ran to my room. I slammed the light wooden door shut, and dropped to my bed. I cried hard into my pillow, letting the pink case soak up the tears that streamed from my eyes. I held the matching cover in my fists as Alex’s spiteful words ran around in my head, practically telling me I was making a fool of myself, telling me that nobody cared what I did, and let me know that I was all alone.

  Nobody cared.

  Not any more.

  Alex was new and he’d already taken my friends away from me, and now he’d taken my happiness.

  He wasn’t going to get away with it.

  It was glorious.

  Shiny and new, and left there for me to destroy.

  Oh, yeah, Alex thought he’d gotten away with making me cry, thinking he was so big for upsetting me so bad.

  His mom had scolded him for saying horrible things, but he’d refused to apologize. He’d said that he was joking and that I shouldn’t have taken him seriously, but when he’d refused to eat any of the mud pie I’d made, even though his mom said it was the best she’d ever had, everybody knew he was full of crap.

  Lily had lost it with him. She’d said that he should know what those things he said could do to people, that saying they’re joking when they say bad things is something he knows firsthand is wrong. I didn’t know what she’d meant by that, but she was right.

  Alex wasn’t joking, and he was just saying that to get out of trouble. Well, he was in plenty of it, and he’d gotten grounded again.

  The girls at school poked fun at me, telling me that Alex only said what everybody else had been thinking, even though they used to gather around me for cupcakes and treats whenever I’d made them. They’d called me a cry-baby for getting upset, then made sure I saw them sitting next to Alex during lunch and gathering around him during recess, letting me know I wasn’t included in any of their games ever again.

  I’d let it ride for two weeks, making plans on how to get him back, and when he finally slipped up, leaving the object of my focus unattended, I knew I had to act quickly. I’d counted how many minutes he’d left it alone for, knew where he’d put it, and the exact point in which I’d be caught if I tried anything without careful precision.

  The time is now.

  I walked up to his bike and gripped the handlebars. Lifting them from their position against their post box, I began to wheel it across the street. I checked over my shoulder, then walked faster when I heard him shout something to his mom.

  I closed the garage door behind me, and quickly grabbed the little step and placed it by the door so I
could see out.

  I grinned when I spotted Alex come out of their house, and he stopped, his mouth dropping open when he saw that his prized possession was missing.

  “What the hell?” he yelled, grabbing his hair. He looked up and down the street, turning quickly in both directions. I giggled behind my hand, trying not to make any sound in case he heard me. “Mom!” He ran back inside, then came out with Lily.

  She looked too, then she changed where she was looking and turned to my house. I held my breath as she looked over as if she could see through the garage door to me, still standing on the step with Alex’s bike on the floor behind me.

  “It’s been stolen,” Alex said, grabbing at his hair again. His eyes were closed as he turned side to side, his head back a little as his hands dropped to behind his neck.

  Is he going to cry?

  I hoped so; he’d know what it felt like to be upset because of what someone else did.

  “Why did you leave it?” Lily asked, now looking at Alex. “Did you see anybody in the street before you came inside?”

  Alex’s eyes opened wide, shocked at his mom. “I always leave it,” he said, his voice going higher. “Nobody was here, I left it where I always do, and I came in for lunch as usual.” When he finished what he said, his head moved slowly to my direction, his glare firmly on my house.

  There was no way he could see me—I knew that—but it didn’t stop my heart from skipping when it looked as though he was looking right at me, the blue of his eyes visible even from where I was hiding.

  I glanced at his bike, then back to him. “Shoot!” I hopped down, then rushed to the bike, picking up the handles and wheeling it behind my dad’s car. He had a huge piece of fabric bunched up on the shelf to the right, so I yanked it down and covered the bike. As quickly and quietly as I could, I opened the door to my house inside the garage and crept inside.

  Not a moment later, there was a knock at the door.

  “Hi, Kirsten,” Lily said with a sigh. “I’m so sorry to bother you.”

  “Oh, no,” my mom replied. “You could never bother me. What’s up?”