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“Are you trying to seduce me?” Jensen asks. I can hear the barely restrained laughter in his voice.
“You wish,” I grumble as I hurry to change the song.
We go back to riding in silence, and I lean my head back against the headrest, crossing my arms over my chest to try to hide my hard nipples. I can feel the stiff peaks poking against the lace of my bra, and now I’m wishing that I had worn something with more padding.
Think about how much you hate him!
The first time I met Jensen, I thought he was my knight in shining armor, coming to help me as I tried to lug that end table up the stairs. Instead, he had come up the stairs to me and immediately started berating me.
In any other situation, I might have listened to him or, at the very least, given him a second chance. However, I was already feeling prickly about my design skills, and he attacked that.
No one in this small town really takes me seriously. I’m just silly Fawn. I grew up here in Redwood, and everyone still sees me as the little girl with big dreams. When I left for college, I was determined to hit it big in San Francisco or LA. Some big city with lots of jobs and a nightlife.
It turns out I actually missed this little town. I also hate nightlife. I don’t know what I was thinking. TV really sold me on clubs, but the reality is just a bunch of sweaty twenty-somethings gyrating to music so loud you can’t even recognize the song. I was homesick, so I moved back, even if there wasn’t much of a market in Redwood for an interior designer.
I’ve been supplementing my income by repurposing furniture and selling it online. It’s been pretty lucrative so far, and it turns out that I’m actually pretty good at it. The hardest part is finding cheap furniture for me to use.
I thought I had hit the lottery when I found that end table, but then Jensen plucked it out of my hands like I was nothing more than an annoying little kid and carried it back downstairs with ease. I knew better than to try to chase after him and take it back. I never would have stood a chance against him and all of those muscles of his.
We’ve been sworn enemies ever since.
I always thought having an arch-enemy would be exhausting, but Jensen makes it pretty easy. He’s always at work so I barely see him. The most we talk is when one of us bangs on our shared wall to yell at the other to turn down their music or TV.
I’m starting to think that his being gone so much is a good thing. I can’t seem to control myself when we’re close to each other. Every time his eyes roam over me, I get all hot and achy. When he caught me this morning, and his big, strong hands circled my hips, I thought I was going to pass out from a spontaneous orgasm. Is that a thing?
“That would have been embarrassing,” I mumble to myself.
“What?”
“None of your business!” I blurt out. He rolls his eyes, which seems to be Jensen’s go-to move.
“Are we really going to ignore each other for the whole drive?” he asks, and I glare at him.
“Are you going to give me a new end table like the one you stole?” I counter.
“The termite-infested one, you mean?” he asks drily.
I grumble at him, and his hands tighten on the steering wheel.
We make it another hour in complete silence, but I can’t take it any longer. I’m not used to being quiet for so long, and it’s starting to kill me. I’ll talk to anyone, even Jensen, right now.
“How’s business?” I ask awkwardly. He seems surprised that I broke the silence.
“Good.”
I wait for him to elaborate, but he doesn’t add anything to that.
And I’m out of conversation topics. I don’t really know anything about Jensen besides that he works a lot.
“Now it’s your turn,” I tell him, and he glances over at me in confusion.
“My turn for what?”
“To ask me a question. God, you’re so bad at this.”
“I never know what to say to you,” he admits in a low grumble as we turn off the highway and instantly get stuck in San Francisco traffic.
“I don’t miss this,” I tell him, and he frowns.
