Page 11 of Sincerely, Your Enemy

I glance at him over my shoulder, the confident smirk plastered to his face telling me this is far from over. I wave Sierra’s phone at him and say, “Appreciate the help, though.”

Then I’m out the door.

Lacey

Dia

Please say you’re hungry. We made way too many waffles.

Iunlock my phone and type a quick reply underneath the counter of the café where I work. The place is dead. I think I can get away with sending one little text.

Lacey

Waffles? For dinner?

Dia answers immediately.

Dia

Blame it on Aveena’s pregnancy cravings. It was either that or pickles dipped in sour cream.

Her message makes me chuckle. Our friend Aveena is seven months pregnant and a sucker for weird food combinations. It’s just been getting worse and worse as the pregnancy progresses. We’re having a girls’ night later, and I can’t wait. It’s been ages since we got together.

Up until last week, Dia was in physical therapy from getting injured in a fire, and Aveena was busy growing a small human, on top of spending all of her time with her head in the toilet.

Another text comes through on my phone, this one from my stepdad, Daniel.

Daniel

Don’t forget lunch with your old man.

I’m having lunch with my stepdad tomorrow. I’ve known the man almost my entire life. He and my mom got together when I was a kid. I consider him my second father.

If I’m being honest, I’d see him more often than Clark, my biological dad, growing up. Sure, I’d spend every other weekend with Clark and my siblings, but then I’d find myself back home with my mom and Daniel first thing Monday morning.

“What are you doing?” my coworker Lydia questions from across the café. She was busy sweeping the entrance, which is why I checked my phone when she wasn’t looking.

“Nothing,” I lie.

Lydia is a big old snitch, and the last thing I need is for her to tell my boss I’m texting at work.

I unlock the cash register. “I just need to count it real quick, then we’re out of here.”

We don’t say a word for the next five minutes, mindlessly going through the closing procedure. Lydia tells me to switch the Open sign to Closed while she gets the lights in the back.

I oblige, trailing to the front of the café. Only seconds before I can reach the door, it flies open, triggering the bell above it.

A tall, handsome stranger enters the café, and a pair of bright blue eyes lands on me.

Sweet baby Jesus.

He’s gorgeous.

With a sharp jaw, tousled dirty-blond hair, and teeth so straight and white I wonder if he has veneers. Crazy thing is, I’m not usually one to go for blond guys, but he just might be the exception.

His gaze darts across the empty café, and realization darkens his features. “Shit, are you closed?”

He might look like a walking Greek statue, but I’m not trying to get off work ten minutes late. Lydia turns the corner, alerted by his voice, and her jaw drops.

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