Page 12 of The Enemy Face Off

You were right all along, Beth, he really is a grump, or…

Let's find his car and cover it in cake.

But instead, that wry grin is back on her face.

I tap my fingers against my forearm. "What?"

"I can't believe you're not seeing it."

"Seeing what?"

"Uh, hello. What trope are you and Milo currently playing out?"

"No.No no. No, no, no. Donoteven go there."

"Oh, I'm going there. Just like we went there with Hannah earlier this summer about Culver and her going from friends to lovers."

"That was different."

"How was that different?"

"It wasn't me," I mutter, taking another gulp.

Amiel giggles. "True. But the onlyactualdifference between your situation and Hannah's is simply the trope involved. Hers with Culver is friends to lovers. Yours with Milo is enemies to lovers."

I fold my arms across my chest. Or try to. This darn corset is so tight that even basic movements are a struggle. "Mark my words, Amiel. I willneverbe that man's lover."

"But—"

"But nothing. Trust me, I am well aware of how this trope plays out. But Milo Payne is exactly that—a pain. And I will not be falling in love with him. I've crossed paths with him exactlythree times. The first time, I brushed him off at karaoke because I refused to be another one of his easy wins. The second time he barreled into me and almost killed me." A slight exaggeration, but who's got time for fact checking? "And now he's validated my low-key online snooping. He's rude and entitled all because he's some big hotshot hockey star." I take a breath. I'm all riled up, and I hate that he has such an effect on me. "Are you ready to go? I know you have an early start tomorrow."

"Sure." Amiel keeps her eyes on me for a moment, and I can tell she's thinking things. Thankfully, she keeps her thoughts to herself. "Let's say goodbye to the girls."

We try to find our friends but Hannah—along with Culver—is MIA, and Evie and Fraser are still dealing with well-wishers. We manage to locate Summer hanging out with Evie's sisters, Harper and Laney, so we pull her in for a quick hug and to tell her we're leaving.

Five minutes later, we're in my car.

I'm still fuming.

And hating this tight, restrictive outfit more than ever. Thankfully, it's only a ten-minute drive to Amiel's place on the outskirts of Comfort Bay, so I'll survive. But once I get home, I am ripping it off me and swearing off corsets for life. My heart goes out to the poor women who had to wear them daily.

"Thanks again for the ride," Amiel says.

I smile at her. "Don't mention it."

She's confided in me a little about what brought her to Comfort Bay, and by the sounds of it, that ex of hers is a real piece of work. I know she's struggling financially, so a fifty buck Uber ride is an expense she could do without at the moment. It's also why she's working all the shifts she can get at the bakery.

"How are you feeling?" she asks.

"Hot and bothered," I reply, referring to my outfit. The smile rising on her lips suggests she took it to mean something else. Or rather,someoneelse. "Don't start with me."

"I wasn't going to say anything."

"Your smile says it all."

"Fine. I'm looking out the window so you can't see my smile."

As I continue driving, I regret not taking off my rococo heels and wearing a pair of flats like I did on the way to the party. The shoes are restrictive and slippery, and I don't think it's safe for me to be driving while wearing them.

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