Page 11 of My Irresistible Enemy

Just say you’re sorry and leave, I yelled at myself internally.Even dealing with that asshole outside has got to be better than whatever’s going on in here. Make your goddamn mouth work.

But I couldn’t. I didn’t know if it was embarrassment over the situation in general, or my particular hang-ups around attractive, naked men, but even after I opened my eyes, I couldn’t say anything coherent.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” the guy said, his eyebrows drawing down even farther—until one of them quirked upwards. “Or maybe you’re enjoying the show?”

His foot was up on the sink, and he shifted, angling his body towards me for a better view. He stroked his cock, and I swallowed. My neck felt hot. I took a step backwards.

“What’s the matter? Scared you might like it?” the guy said. “Scared your boss might see you in here with a big, bad gay guy and think the wrong thing?”

NowIfrowned. What the hell was he talking about?

“My boss? I—I don’t—”

“Or is he a family member?” the guy continued. “A friend? Whoever he is, he made no secret of his views. So, fuck you, and fuck your homophobia.”

Was the universe deliberately messing with me today, only letting me interact with people who accused me of things without even giving me a chance to talk? Of course, it might have helped if I’d actually beenableto talk, and not just stutter uselessly, but still.

“I’m not—I didn’t—I don’t even—”

“Just fuck off, asshole,” the guy said. “I don’t need your judgement, and if you’re not going to participate, I don’t need your presence either.”

“Participate? Seriously?” The words tumbled out of my mouth, but any relief I felt was swept away by the growing anxiety in my stomach. “I’m not being homophobic. I just didn’t expect to find someone masturbating in a public restroom.”

“Right.” The guy smiled slyly. “It’s just surprise that’s making you not leave. Just shock that’s making you stare at my cock like you’re wondering what it tastes like. That’s the only reason.”

“What the fuck?”

“It’s definitely not fear that you might want to see even more.” The guy arched an eyebrow. “Not you wanting me to turn around so you can see the rest of me.”

“You don’t evenknowme,” I said, backing up another step. But the guy seemed to take that as a challenge, because he took his foot off the sink and started walking towards me, his dick still hard. He caught me looking and smirked.

“I know interest when I see it—no matter how much you try to hide it.”

I backed up even farther, my hand fumbling behind me for the doorknob. There was no reason to be scared of this guy. I had a good six inches on him and was more muscular too. It wasn’t like he could force me to do anything I didn’t want to do.

But I needed to get out of there.

I found the knob, twisted it, and yanked the door open. I couldn’t quite bring myself to turn my back to him, so I edged out of the little room backwards as he came closer and closer. I only made it a few inches before he was right in front of me, looking up.

His eyes were so fucking blue, I thought I might drown in them. He put his hand on my chest, and my heart thumped. I swallowed again. Why hadn’t I left yet?

He smiled sweetly. “Go fuck yourself.”

Then he slammed the door in my face.

* * *

All in all, it was a relief to get off the ferry. I drove straight to the Wisteria Inn, but I was still shaking when I got there, rattled by my encounter with that guy and mad at myself for being rattled.

Mal and Deacon were two of my favorite people in the world, and one of the reasons why was because they took me at my word when I said I was exhausted and needed to collapse in my room, immediately. Nor did they get mad when I begged off eating dinner with them that night, opting instead to stay in my room and gnaw on an old granola bar I found in the bottom of my bag.

They didn’t even ask me what the hell was wrong when I came downstairs in a panic the next morning because I’d lain awake half the night going through worst-case scenarios only to finally drift off and sleep through my alarm. Mal just handed me a cup of coffee and wished me luck as Deacon held open the kitchen door that led to the Wisteria’s backyard.

The grounds of the inn were filled with tents. Equipment tents, catering tents, one that seemed to have multiple computers running inside it, and, of course, the biggest tent of all, where we would be baking.

The air hummed with humidity and birdsong. I hurried under a live oak in the middle of the yard to reach the baking tent. I didn’t even take a moment to collect myself before lifting flaps and ducking inside.

I should have. Because I’d only taken two steps into the tent before I stopped, staring.

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