Page 40 of The Enemy: Extended Edition

I take a huge bite of taco, feeling my nerves and sadness settle into something more comfortable and bearable. I want to say it’s the food and my blood sugar rising back to normal levels, but I don’t think that’s it. It’s Ryan. The man I don’t want to admit I like as much as I do.

He notices my smile. “Will you tell me why you were crying earlier?”

For a minute, there are only the sounds of our crinkling wrappers in the car, and Ryan doesn’t rush me. I look out at the church, where, in less than twenty-four hours, my best friend will get married—completely changing her life and mine as a result. “I’m selfish.”

“Try again,” he says in a soft tone.

“I am, though. I’m selfish because I don’t want Stacy to get married tomorrow. And I don’t want her to move away or sell her portion of our business.” I leave out that my heart is also wrenching at the thought of him leaving after the wedding. “I want her to stay here and keep showing up every day to the shop and run the business side by side with me.”

Ryan’s brows pull together. “Yeah, Logan told me Stacy is selling her half of Darlin’ Donuts.” I nod and he falls quiet for a minute. “Who is she selling it to?”

“Not sure yet. I’ve had a few meetings already with potential buyers, but I’d rather live in a smelly shoe than own a business with any of them.”

“Why don’t you buy it then and run it yourself?”

Again with that question. The same one Jake asked me and that I’ve been asking myself on repeat ever since Stacy told me she was selling her portion. I shrug and ball up my wrapper, going for taco number two. “I can’t.”

“Why not?” Someone has a lot of questions tonight.

“Because I can’t. Can you hand me my second taco?” He moves the bag out of my reach. “Ryan.”

“No, I’m serious. Why can’t you?”

I meet his bold dark eyes. “Because I’ve tried owning my own business before, and . . . it didn’t work out.”

“What business?”

I don’t want to stroll down this memory lane, but I don’t think he’s going to let up until I do. “I sold bouquets out of a cute flower truck. It did well for a while and then . . .”

He leans a little closer. “And then what?”

I shoot him a look that says he’s prying too much and I don’t like it. Ryan doesn’t give a shit, though. He keeps that bag of tacos out of reach.

“And then,” I grit out through clenched teeth, “Ben cheated, and I spiraled into a bad place for a while, and basically gave up on my business. I had to sell the truck, and it was honestly so embarrassing. I don’t feel like going through that again.”

I make gimme fingers toward the bag of tacos and Ryan sets it in my lap. “You’re allowed to go through rough patches, you know. Those moments . . .” He pauses and swallows. “They don’t define the rest of your life. They’re just that: moments.”

I don’t look at him. I can’t. Tears will spring out faster than a jack-in-the-box.

He lets me eat my taco in peace for all of thirty seconds. “Want to know a secret?” This has me peeking over at him. “I got fired from the first kitchen I worked at out of culinary school.”

I choke on my taco and cut my eyes to him. “WHAT!”

He’s grinning—that statement having the desired effect, apparently. “Yep. I showed up, cocky as shit on the first day, and tried to overstep the head chef by wowing the kitchen with my unique flavor pairings—which were opposite of how he’d developed the dishes. He fired me before the end of the day.”

“Ryan,” I say absolutely gobsmacked.

He’s nodding, chewing a bite, and then wipes the corner of his mouth with a napkin. My gaze is drawn to his lips, and I find myself wanting to lean over and kiss that perfect mouth of his more and more by the minute.

“My point is,” he begins. “I learned a lot from that day. And you’re smart, so I don’t need to state the purpose of this story. It’s your life, June, and if you want to sell Stacy’s half, then do it. But if you don’t”—he gives me the softest, most understanding smile I’ve ever seen—“then don’t. Because you have what it takes to run it yourself. That one moment in time doesn’t define your future.”

The air is full of salty Taco Bell aroma, but my heart is nothing but syrupy sweet mush.

CHAPTER 17

June

The moment my eyes pop open, I think wedding day.

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