Page 31 of Flirting with the Enemy

“Just teaching you a lesson on organization.” Seth winks at me.

“You’re such an ass.” I point the sprayer in his direction and squeeze the handle, sending a spray of water toward Seth. He jumps back, but not before the water hits his chest. I let out a giggle.

Seth’s nostrils flare and he narrows his eyes at me. Before I know it, his hand dips into the sink and he scoops up a pile of soap suds and throws it in my direction. I let out a squeal as the suds splatter on my face. Wiping the soap from my eyes, Seth’s smiling triumphantly at me.

This. Is. War.

I scoop up a handful of suds and throw it back at him. My aim not as good as his, only half hits him on the cheek and the rest falls to his shoulder. I reach into the sink for another handful of suds but Seth’s arms around wrap around my waist and tugs so my back is against his chest. He spins me around with his hands on my hips, then he lifts and plops me up on a steel table and stands between my open legs.

“Always a pain in my ass. This is why I always need to tie you up, so you keep your hands to yourself.”

“Unlucky for me, you’re not wearing a bow tie today.”

“I’m a resourceful man. I’m sure I could find something to use.”

I thread my fingers through his hair before tugging him toward me and then crash my lips to his. I don’t know what I enjoy more, annoying him or kissing him. Both are equally enjoyable. His hands trail up my thighs, causing goosebumps to sprout along my skin. His tongue presses at the seam of my lips, and I open to let him in. I caress my tongue against his as this slow waltz between us turns into something closer to dirty dancing.

“Oh! I’m so sorry.”

Immediately, we pull away like we’ve been caught with a hand in the cookie jar. I’m sure if it weren’t for this interruption, Seth’s fingers would have been in my cookie jar. Seth straightens his shirt and I hop off the counter as we both peer at Maggie, who has her hand covering her eyes while she blindly tries to navigate through the kitchen.

“I just forgot to grab my jacket. I’ll be out of your way in just a second and you can continue what you were doing,” Maggie rushes out.

“It’s okay Maggie. You can open your eyes. I don’t want you hurting yourself,” Seth says.

Maggie parts her fingers as she peeks out to make sure the coast is clear before dropping her hand. She spots her jacket and dashes to pluck it off the counter. “Got it. I’ll let you two get back to it.” She gives us both a sly smile before she turns to me. “So lovely to meet you, Parisa. I hope to see you around more often.” Her hand lingers on my forearm as I return her smile and then she’s out the door.

“That was a close one.” I slump back to lean on the counter. So much for keeping this a secret.

“Maggie won’t say anything. Now, if it had been my mom, we might have a little more explaining to do.” Seth moves to stand in front of me, his hands rest on the counter, caging me in.

“Exactly. What if that had been your mom?”

“But it wasn’t. Plus, would it be that big a deal if someone else found out?”

“It’s just something I’m not ready for. Let’s finish cleaning and you can bring me home, okay?” My tone is harsher than I wanted.

Seth nods in agreement and pushes off the counter. We finish cleaning up the kitchen in awkward silence.

Sixteen

You’re not Parisa

Seth

I pull into a parking spot outside the small grocery store on the opposite side of town. Sure, I could go to the bigger chain store, but I prefer supporting the smaller family run stores. But the real reason is this one’s closer to Parisa’s apartment and I secretly hope I run into her and can make her talk to me. All week Parisa’s given me the cold shoulder and I don’t know what I said or did to make her so frightened. No stolen glances while we work, no not so random run ins in our secret hallway for a passing kiss. Nothing. She just puts her head down and pretends I don’t exist. It’s like she’s embarrassed to be with me or something. But I quickly shake that thought out of my head as I exit my car.

Once inside, I grab a cart and pull up my notes app to see what I have on my list, but a wave of familiar auburn hair catches my attention. I quicken my pace to follow her down aisle three. As I round the endcap, I almost take out an elderly lady reaching for a box of Wheaties. I give her a sheepish smile and apologize as I pass before I continue my way down the aisle.

“Parisa!” I call out her name, but she keeps walking until she rounds the corner. I jog down the aisle, following her. I spot her a few aisles down and I yell again, but it’s like she’s ignoring me. Finally, she stops in front of a shelf of cereal boxes and that gives me enough time to catch up to her. “Parisa.” With her back to me, her head is down while she reads the back of a box. I reach out and grab her shoulder. She twists around with a shriek and throws the box at my chest. Quickly, I catch it before it falls to the floor. That’s when recognition hits me. This isn’t Parisa. Same hair, same piercing hazel eyes, but Parisa doesn’t have a scar on her chin.

“You’re not Parisa,” I say as I step back so I’m a good arm’s length away in case she tries to throw another box at me.

She pulls her ear buds from her ears and tilts her head at me. “Do I know you?”

“Oh, sorry, you just look eerily familiar. Do you know Parisa Anthony?”

Recognition hits her face. “Oh, are you Seth?”

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