Page 6 of Engaging with Her Enemy

Her eyes closed. They’d all been friends once, running around the countryside, making big plans. Dreaming about what life held outside their small town.

But she’d had something more with Hudson. Nothing romantic, but, at one point, they’d had trust. Shared her secret. He'd been the only person to know about her troubles in school.

Her struggle in high school had turned her into a smart-mouthed woman that didn't take anything lying down. She wouldn't take Hudson that way either.

His biceps and shoulders popped into her mind before she shook the image away. Not going to happen. It didn't matter how long since she'd last had sex, she would not cave and go after Hudson.

That'd be like Batman sleeping with Lex Luthor. Well, if Batman was a woman. And Lex Luthor was sexy as hell.

After a shower and spending a small amount of time picking out what to wear, Becky drove into Statem, looking for a fight. No matter how many times she told herself to let it go, she couldn't. It'd been, what, fourteen years? That was a long time to hold a grudge against an eighteen-year-old boy playing a joke.

But each time she thought of him, the same feelings of panic washed over her, starting in the pit of her stomach and spreading out to her arms and legs. He'd given her that complex. The worry that someone, even her closest friends, would have really found out about her shortcomings.

He’d started it by broadcasting his declaration that he liked her over the entire PA system at school, even adding that he admired how hard she’d worked in tutoring.

And in the next breath, he’d admitted the entire thing to be a joke.

She parked her baby blue Mini Cooper along the curb in front of the bed and breakfast. At eight forty-five, she had no idea if he still slept or had left. Or what he was doing in town. She'd been too overwhelmed that she'd forgotten to ask Cameron. The men on the construction crew had acted as though they knew him. Without any other hotels in town, he was either staying here,rightacross from the diner, or at the shady one about twenty minutes away.

The old bed and breakfast stood three majestic stories tall, all the siding having received a fresh coat of gray paint recently. With white dormers, white trim, and a full wrap-around porch lined with rocking chairs, it looked cozy and ready for ghost stories at the same time.

Ms. Roberts, the landlady, raked leaves along the edge of the driveway.

Becky walked across the lawn, the narrow heels of her knee-high boots sinking in the soft grass. The sun's early morning warmth gave her more determination to finally give Hudson the blessing out he deserved.

“Aren't you dressed nice today, Becky.”

Was it that obvious? “Thanks. I wanted to see if you have one of my old classmates staying here.”

She rested her hand on the rake. “Yes. Hudson Stokes. I believe he graduated with you, didn't he?”

“Yes.” She pushed her brown hair back, ready to request to see him and armed with a dozen of Ms. Roberts's favorite cookies waiting in the front seat of her car as a bribe, if necessary.

“Speak of the Devil. Here he is now.” Mrs. Roberts nodded to a long, white truck turning onto her driveway. Becky stood her ground, locking eyes with Hudson behind the steering wheel and making him come to a stop before she stepped out of the way. “My. I'd forgotten the history between the two of you. Everyone in town talked about that tongue-lashing you gave him. Never did know what poor Hudson did to deserve it.”

And they wouldn't know. Small towns put labels on people who were different. She didn't want the judgment. Struggling with day-to-day activities was enough to deal with. Having people second-guess her intelligence would drive her crazy. She might as well leave town. But that meant leaving the diner, her years of work and dreams wiped out.

The truck parked. Hudson took a little longer than Becky thought necessary to exit. Scared? Nervous? Making up some excuse for why he was back in town? His parents had left. Aside from friends, he’d have no reason to be here. The man destroyed their friendship. No way he’d shown up, expecting them to reconcile at the snap of his fingers.

In long, slow steps, she made her way up the driveway. He watched her. God, the man had filled out in every aspect possible. In a good way, damn him. Her body responded, too. Warmth crept through her limbs, making her strides harder. Like walking through a thick, warm batter.

“Good morning,” he said, as easy and smooth as if he didn't expect her firestorm. His eyes held hers before making a point of dragging a heated gaze down to her boots and slowly back up. “Good to see you.”

Becky crossed her arms, holding on tight to her rage and not softening because of the unexpected attraction. “Why didn't you let me know who you were last night?”

“Would it have made a difference? Would you have refused to serve me?”

She might have screwed up his order, but she would have given him food. “No.”

“Still hate me after all these years?”

Becky tilted her head, giving him a fake smile. “What do you think?”

He took a step. Or a limp.

Her anger faulted a moment with his second limp. “What's wrong with you?” The question came out more like a sharp bark than concern, although she was concerned. Couldn't help the emotion. It shouldn’t be a confusing situation. He’d screwed up, almost exposed her, and she wanted redemption. She’d screamed at him once, but it wasn’t enough. The blood-lust tasted bitter. A million things to say to him tumbled around in her mind.

He massaged his thigh. “It’s nothing. You were about to chew my ass for something I did when I was dumb and eighteen.” He waved his hand. “Please, keep going. Let's finally have the conversation we should have had the dayafterProm when you refused to listen to me.”

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