Page 5 of Loving My Enemy

“Yeah right.” She scoffed. “I have to get her back to Tulip first and then I’ll work on getting some grandchildren out of her too. But, Antonio, you’re older and it’s past time for me to bounce some babies on these knees before they get too old.”

I barked out a laugh that. “Like you’d dare let your knees do something as subversive as get old.” She was too damn stubborn for that. She was also too stubborn to give up on what she felt was her due: grandkids.

“That’s true but still it would be nice to have kids running around the house again.” The wistfulness in her voice didn’t go unnoticed but I didn’t comment.

“Thanks for dinner, Mom. It was delicious, as always.” Nothing beat my mom’s cooking. It was something everyone said, but with her, it was true. She’d learned to make many Colombian dishes to please Dad—when he’d bothered to show up, anyway. He disappeared altogether when I was about twelve years old. In the years since, she’d brushed up on her southern cuisine in an effort, I was sure, to guarantee I didn’t stray too far from home again.

She groaned and rolled her eyes, which was ridiculous, but it was better than the on-tap sadness she could produce with ease. “Oh fine. I’ll stop. For now.” I didn’t miss the emphasis because she didn’t want me to. Now that Ry and Preston were happily matched up, the whole town had gone matchmaking crazy and I intended to steer clear of it all. “But Iwillsay this, Antonio: you are a good man. No matter what you think, you are. I’m your mother so you have to listen to me. You deserve to have it all. You really do.”

I didn’t know about that but arguing with her was useless. She didn’t know the important stuff. She didn’t know how I’d failed to protect the woman I loved—who, it turned out, I hadn’t known as well as I thought. Mom didn’t know and, if I could help it, she never would. “Thanks for believin’ in me, Mom.”She’d always been on my side and in my corner, even when she probably shouldn’t have. I loved her for it.

At the door, I wrapped her in my arms and squeezed tight.

“Not that I’m complaining, but what’s that for?” she asked.

“For being the best mom a guy could ask for.”

Her cheeks turned pink and she brushed away a stray tear. “I love you too, son. Now get on out of here before I forget I promised to stop meddling.”

With a long, slightly terrified laugh, I walked to my car in the driveway and waited until Mom was safely inside before I backed out. Tulip was a small town but a little bit of caution went a long way.

Though it was barely eight, most of the town was in for the night, with the exception of a few restaurants and the only bar in town, Black Thumb. For a second, I thought of stopping in, grabbing a drink and a chat with whoever was inside. But I was too tired and in no mood for company, so I kept driving until I turned down the familiar tree-lined street where most of the yards were littered with toys and decorated with flowers and lawn ornaments.

Tulip was such a far cry from New Orleans that, some days, I wondered if those years had been some kind of nightmare. A walking nightmare filled with the worst humanity had to offer until one bright burst of sunshine walked in and made it all bearable. Manageable. Until it wasn’t manageable any longer. Until I had to leave, tail tucked between my legs, and headed home.

Turning down my block, the first thing I noticed was the trailer parked in the empty cottage across the street from me.Directlyacross the street from me. A very familiar trailer. When I drove past to turn into my own driveway, I saw the daisy that confirmed my worst fears.

“Why me?”

Then I realized it didn’t matter. Tulip was a small town. I couldn’t ignore her, but I could keep an eye on her.

From a distance.

Chapter 4

Elka

I’d never lived anywhere other than the house I grew up in. But now, after two hours of unloading boxes from my little trailer and putting them into the rooms where they would live, I understood the universal hatred of moving. It was a long and tedious process and the worst part was, there were no shortcuts. Of course, if I had friends like most normal twenty-four-year-old women, then maybe this part of the job would be done already.

It didn’t matter. I wasn’t a complainer. Complaining about having no friends wouldn’t magically make them appear, just like complaining about moving the boxes wouldn’t get them into the house any faster. It was a lesson that had been drilled into me from an early age; one I still couldn’t seem to shake. Which was how I ended up with the little silver trailer. I’d taken the time to paint a tie-dye daisy on it because it made it feel like mine. I’d had to get away from those voices who encouraged me to keep quiet and accept my fate, rather than trying to change it.

Now I was taking steps to make my own fate and to shape my life how I saw fit. It sucked that I had to do it alone, but I preferred to think that was a temporary problem. Oncethe cute little blue-and-white cottage I’d rented was set up and my workspace was all laid out, maybe there would be time for friends.

Maybe even a boyfriend. That would be nice. Dating hadn’t been allowed because it was too risky. Too many new people meant germs that could make things worse for Austin. He had been my whole world, so I’d gone along with it happily, not knowing how abnormal it was. How restricting and isolating it had been.

“That was the past,” I told myself and grabbed another box from the back of the trailer. I set it on the edge before I jumped down to grab it and carry it inside. It was already so warm out and noon was still a couple hours away, making me glad I’d opted for cutoff jean shorts and a light cotton tank top. It wasn’t exactly how I wanted to meet the neighbors but I didn’t think passing out on the front lawn was a great introduction either. With Elton John singing about how lonely it was out in space, I carried more boxes inside and thought of Austin, smiling down on me. Feeling happy and proud that I was taking steps to living. Finally.

It would take at least a week just to get all the rooms unpacked and arranged how I wanted them. Most of the picture frames and knickknacks were brand new, bought with the dreams of a young girl who wanted more than life had to offer her. Now they had shelves and walls to adorn. I had to figure out how to make it look nice, not cluttered or overwhelming. Time was the one thing I knew I had—barring some kind of catastrophic event—so I would take my time and slowly make this place mine.

I had a few weeks worth of surplus inventory but I wanted my workspace set up as soon as possible. Even if I only worked a few hours each day, I could keep my inventory stocked enough that there would be no downtime. It took too long to get all the boxesdown to the basement where I would work because it was cool and not overly sunny, the perfect environment for my creations.

The one thing that made moving by myself bearable was that I was in excellent shape. Thanks to a lifetime of eating healthy and more than regular physical activity, I could probably run a marathon and not get winded. At least I could if not for the suffocating Texas heat.

The sound of the bell ringing startled me; I hadn’t expected any visitors, mostly because I’d never really had any. But that’s what this move was all about so I wiped my damp hands on my shorts as I made my way to the door, realizing at the last moment that I looked like someone who’d spent the morning hauling and unloading boxes. I pulled the door open and stared in shock at the beautiful brunette with green eyes. “Hello?”

“Hi.” She flashed a welcoming smile that immediately disarmed me. “I’m Penny Ford, Mayor Ashford’s assistant.” She held out a hand and I took it, smiling. This woman was confident and capable.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Elka.”

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