Page 66 of Beautiful Enemy

I haven’t been able to get details out of Harrison about the birthday outing, though God knows I’ve been trying.

We’ve been in tense, flirtatious limbo for the past few days.

I spent extra time on my appearance before my set, hoping he’d be there. He was, and even though he was taking meetings, he spared me a hungry look from upstairs and texted me a song request.

Then we crossed paths when he came downstairs in shorts last night while on the phone. I was grabbing a snack.

“Who’re you talking to?” I mouthed.

“China,” he mouthed back.

I threw a napkin at him, which he dodged.

Yesterday, he texted me a picture of Barney with a toy in his mouth.

Harrison: ??

The toy was a crocheted doll a little longer than my hand, with blond yarn hair and a stitched-on frown. It wore a dark-blue costume with a tie.

Thanks to Barney, one of its arms was ripped off.

Rae: Natalia got me some craft supplies the week you were gone.

Harrison: And you were trying to send me a message?

I laughed out loud.

“He sounds romantic.” Callie’s voice brings me back.

“I guess so,” I admit.

Harrison’s not the kind of guy looking for an excuse to do something sweet.

If anything, he’s the opposite. Determined, single-minded.

The fact that he found out it was my birthday and is making something special from it despite my protests has my stomach flipping like a girl with a crush.

I’m not doodling “Mrs. Harrison King” in my notebook or anything. I’ve never pictured myself as the other half of any guy, and he may not even go there again given what happened with his ex.

But the little flutter in my chest feels entirely foreign.

After we finish talking, I respond to some emails and social messages before heading for the door of the café.

The sight through the glass makes me still.

Harrison’s strolling down the street as if I conjured him with my mind, looking like elegant sin.

When did I become the girl who has fantasies about a guy in a suit?

But he’s not alone. The woman next to him is pretty, with big sunglasses and pale skin under a wide-brimmed hat. She smiles at him as he talks animatedly, gesturing with his hands.

My stomach knots, hurt and disappointment twisting together into a heavy mass.

It’s not as if we’re dating. I’m not looking for a partner, someone to settle down and create one life with, to argue with and compromise with and lie awake at night next to.

No matter what Callie says, I need to keep my feelings for this man in check.

Starting with whatever he has planned for my birthday.

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