Page 67 of Undeniably Enemies

With a shake of my head, I do as I’m told. I glance around Wren’s apartment, and a wry smile hits my lips. I think I expected it to resemble a palace or something, but as always, my Cinderella surprises me. Her furniture is nice with girly embellishments in deep purples, pinks, and pale blues, but it’s simple with a lot of clean lines and comfortable pieces. It looks like a Crate and Barrel showroom with a hint of student in the form of textbooks and notebooks, which I like.

A half second later, Wren rounds the corner wearing freaking tight-as-sin yoga pants, a cropped sweatshirt that reveals a solid two inches of smooth stomach, and her wet hair is tied up in a high ponytail showing off the creamy skin of her neck. I swear, the woman is the world’s biggest tease. Even as she scowls at me.

“You could have put it in an envelope and slipped it under the door.”

“Fresh out of envelopes, I’m afraid.” I take a step toward her, and she watches me warily. “Here.”

She grabs the bracelet from my hand and runs it through her fingers the same way I did last night. “Thank you.”

“That was tough, wasn’t it?”

She tries to hide her smirk. “Impossible. You can go now.”

I ignore that. “Aren’t you going to put it back on?”

“The clasp is broken. It’s been breaking for a while, so I’m not surprised it fell off.”

“I fixed it. It should close without an issue.”

Her lips part in shock, and her eyebrows take a nosedive. She holds it up, examining the clasp. “You fixed it? Why?”

I’m not even going to dignify that with a response. The woman really does think I’m an asshole. And because of that, I should walk out of here and never look back. That’s what the self-preservation, how many times can you have your gut kicked in, side of me is telling me to do. Yet something about this woman makes me a masochist. A man who simply can’t help himself and keeps coming back for more.

Plus, I think we’ve both been misjudging each other. I’m not a total asshole, and she’s not as spoiled and bratty as I thought.

“Can we talk about last night?”

She arranges the bracelet on her wrist and then levels me with a perturbed glare. “What’s there to say? Last night was a mistake—one that can’t ever happen again.”

“Why was it a mistake?”

She puffs an annoyed breath. “I was angry about you texting me and hiding that it was you. Something I’m still angry about. We got carried away.”

“We do that. I do that. So again, why was it a mistake?”

“Why are you arguing with me on this? I figured you’d agree.”

Another step, and now she’s backing up toward the wall. That works for me, so I continue my advance. “I never agree with you, why would I start now?” I stand in front of her, but I don’t touch her.

Her arms cross over her chest. “You mean other than the fact that you’re old, a crappy lay, and ugly?”

I chuckle. “Maybe try sticking to the facts if you want to sell this to me.”

“You’re my neighbor, my brother’s best friend, and my boss. Do you need more of a reason why this can’t happen than that?”

“Temporary boss,” I correct. “Continue.”

“If I match at MGH, it won’t be temporary, and I want a level I trauma center for both adults and pediatrics.”

My gut twists, and my body goes still. “You’re trying to match in the ER? At MGH?”

“Yes to both of those. It’s my first choice. Tufts and BMC are on that list too.”

I didn’t know she wanted emergency medicine as her specialty, and I didn’t think she’d want to match at MGH since her parents, half her family, and I work there. Especially that last one. I can’t escape her. If she matches there, which she will because she’s Wren Fritz, I’ll not only have to see her and endure her at work but also live next to her. She’ll be everywhere, all the time.

“I’m applying for chief.” I can’t help the note of dismay that hits my voice.

“I know.” She tilts her head, eyeing me as if I’m finally starting to put it all together. “That’s why you know this can’t happen.” She shakes her head. “What are you even asking for from me?”

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