Page 18 of Engaging with Her Enemy

“Thanks.” He waited for Cameron to leave before leaning against the desk and rubbing hard at the cramp in his hamstring. He'd avoided Becky for the past few days, hoping that he could get his head back on straight. Because he had a few goals in mind. The first one was to finally get to kiss Becky. He smiled.Withoutgetting slapped.

* * *

Becky staredat the text message from Hudson. Ten minutes until he arrived for their study session. Hadn't asked if she needed it. Hell no. He simply announced when he got off work and that he planned to stay and eat dessert. The same pushy man he'd always been. A smile tugged at her lips. That was something she had always enjoyed.

Being pushy for her own benefit she could handle. A man taking care of her. Not someone like Tommy, who only had his needs in mind. Only an idiot would have stayed with a guy like that. That made her an idiot for the months she spent in the dead-end relationship.

She beat the egg before incorporating it into the batter. If she got this cake into the oven, she could study while it cooked and then cooled. Ms. Iris had requested three more caramel cakes for the restaurant. They were a little tedious to put together, more so with only one oven, but that kind of work suited her. She had confidence baking. Especially since she didn't need to read a recipe to do so.

As she slid the cakes into the oven, her doorbell rang. “Come in,” she shouted over her shoulder. The screen door squeaked open.

“I can fix this, so it doesn't squeak.” Hudson filled up her doorway. His broad shoulders fit snug in the blue collared shirt. Deliciously, so.

“Hi.” It was about the only sound she could make. Checking out a guy with a body like his made Becky a regular, normal female. But, if they were supposed to be like before, she wouldn't check out his shoulders.

He wouldn't have had those shoulders to begin with. He was a beanpole at eighteen.

He set a bottle of white wine down on the table. “I thought you might like this after we study. It was the kind you ordered at Rhonda's.”

“Thank you,” she murmured. They weren’t dating, yet he’d just gone a step beyond any man she’d been with before.

He balled up the paper bag from the wine. “You're welcome.” He took a short step, not really a limp but close to it.

Her eyes dropped to his leg. “Will you tell me what happened?”

He didn't snap like before. “Eventually. Right now, I plan on teaching you the difference between a debit and a credit.”

“Ugh,” she groaned.

“It'll be fun.” He winked.

Every smile, wink, touch he gave her lit her up like one of those Fembots in theAustin Powersmovie that ends up exploding. She set the timer for the oven and began to wash her bowl and mixer. Good thing he hadn't been this distracting in high school or else she'd never have passed math. She'd have tried to get him to tutor her in something more physical.

“My book is on the table. Let me get these cleaned up, and then we can start. I have two more cakes to make tonight. Are you good at accounting?”

“I took it in college. Made an 'A' if you need my resume.”

Becky laughed. “No. I believe that you can teach me this. You seemed to know everything in high school.” That was the truth. Any topic she had trouble with, she could ask him, and he'd either rattle off the answer or research it and let her know, explaining it in a way she could understand.

“Are you at this point?” He held up the book to where she'd had a piece of notebook paper shoved between the pages. She glanced over her shoulder and nodded. With a bland expression, he said, “Great. I love discussing depreciation.”

She rinsed her last dish. “You don't sound very excited.”

“Honestly, I hate depreciation.”

She wiped her hands on the green dishtowel. “Depreciation sounds too much like depression anyway. Not worth the risk. Let’s skip it and move on to something else.”

“Stop wimping out.”

That was a comfortable thing about him. He gave her space to say whatever sarcastic comment she wanted to and then countered it with something positive. How had she not realized that she missed this?

Being herself?

Letting any negative thought that she had about her abilities leave her mouth without fear of judgment?

With Cameron and Nash, Dewey and Eliza, she kept up a front. She had to. It was a barrier between them and her authentic, imperfect self. Juliana knew a little more about her insecurities, but not everything.

And the one man that she’d hated for fourteen years, theonlyman in a long time to make her stomach do tiny summersaults, that man knew the most about her.

---