Page 1 of Fake Engaged to the Enemy

Chapter one

George

It's almost impossible to reconcile how someone who despises me so fiercely could look so breathtakingly beautiful.

I pull slowly to the side of the road, just behind the sporty little car with its hazard lights on. The woman standing next to the car starts toward me, a grateful smile on her face.

The moment she recognizes me, she stops dead.

And there it is, the glare I’ve come to expect every time we cross paths.

My head spins at the sight of her. Catherine Hart. I see her as she is and as she was all at once. The baby-faced girl Lynn introduced me to when I was five.

The gangly, angry teen who told me I had no heart.

Now to the elegant, beautiful woman in a sleek power suit staring at me as though I’m her worst nightmare come true.

I get out of my truck. Unconsciously, I smooth my hair. I feel like an awkward teenager again.

“Hey, Catherine,” I greet as I head toward her.

When was the last time we saw each other? It has to be last Christmas. That’s the only time she comes to Sandburrow these days.

And every time I see her, she seems to have grown even more beautiful. Even the angel in my dreams can’t compare to real life.

She’s tall and statuesque, her cherubic face haloed by short, curly hair. Brown eyes survey me coolly. Right now, her mouth is set in an unhappy line, but I still remember the dimples that frame her face when she smiles.

“George,” she says with a slight nod. “I… my car broke down.”

“Mind if I take a look?” I gesture toward the car.

Catherine twitches, then nods stiffly. “Go ahead. I called Tony’s Tow but I only got the answering machine.”

“Tony’s always out fishing at this time of day,” I say as I head for the car.

Catherine opens the hood and I lean over, taking a look at the engine. I’m not a mechanic, but I know my way around simple fixes. Everything looks normal to me, but when Catherine turns the key, the engine refuses to catch.

“You’re going to have to take it into the shop, I’m afraid.” I close the hood and sigh.

I don’t look at Catherine. Seeing her always elicits a swirl of emotions that I’m not sure how to take.

There’s always this initial burst of happiness at seeing her. As though my heart forgets every time that we’re not friends anymore.

It follows with a swooping, low crash. The confusion and guilt from the moment when our friendship was utterly severed.

And of course, the anger from not understanding why she said the things she did.

“How long does Tony usually spend fishing?” Catherine asks, her expression guarded.

“Lately? Around noon. He’s the only tow truck in Sandburrow, so he gets away with it,” I say, shrugging. “You headed to Lynn’s place?”

Catherine gives me a dirty look. “Nah, I just decided to swing through this place without seeing my grandmother.”

I fold my arms over my chest. “I was going to offer you a ride since I’m headed there myself, but if you’re going to be that aggressive, I’ll just send her back for you and make you wait.”

“Oh, now who’s being aggressive?” Catherine’s eyes flash, but she slumps against the side of the car. “I wasn’t beingaggressive, I was beingsarcastic.”

“Sure sounded like the same thing to me,” I answer dryly.

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