Eleven

Anger flares inside me like the swelling flames of a bonfire that's had gasoline poured on it. How dare he think he can blackmail me into keeping a secret from my dad. I yank my wrist away from him, straightening to my full 5' 2" height.

"My secret is harmless," I demand as I huff out an appalled laugh. "But yours…" I jab my finger into the center of his surprisingly hard and sturdy chest because apparently that's my new thing. "Well, yours, is…it's…it's…" My mind reels with trying to come up with a response when he butts in again.

"Mine is harmless too." His bright blue eyes burn into mine. "Unless someone tells."

I pinch my lips together, hating this entire situation. Why did my obsessive-compulsive ways force me to see the discrepancies in Jude's playing? Why did he have to show up at Big Hair Books on today of all days and sabotage my very first book signing with his stupid, smug face? And why, as I gaze up at him, do I wish he'd remove the rest of the distance between us just so I can see if his stubble feels as scratchy as it looks?

"I take your silence and stunned expression as an indicator that you're beginning to see my side of things," he muses aloud.

My mouth flops open like a fish. "What? No! Your side of things is skewed. And your secret is not harmless. It's nefarious. It's dubious. It's—"

"You can list all the negative adjectives you want, peanut, but I think you know deep down in your heart that what I'm doing for my brother is noble."

"It's not noble to lie."

As soon as the words leave my mouth, Jude's smile tips up and his eyes narrow. The slight tilt of his head is maddening. "Not even if you're preserving someone's lifelong dream?"

I press my lips tight to hold back my vitriol. There are so many things I want to hurl back at him. Like how badly his and Joel's little scheme will end once someone else catches on to it, for one. And for two, how a guy who's as irritating and pompous as he is shouldn't be allowed to smell that ridiculously good. It's making my body send confusing messages to my brain. Or vice versa. Who knows anymore?

"Listen, Chantelle." He shifts away, and my finger falls from his chest. "Joel doesn't want anything to trip up his shot at a major league hockey career. And he can't afford to lose his hard-earned position on the Dragons. It's not my secret to tell but…" He blows out a breath, running a hand through his hair. "Gwen's pregnant. He needs the pay raise that would come with him moving up."

He opens his mouth to say something else, but he must change his mind because he closes it and shakes his head. "All I'm asking is that you don't tell anyone about our switch. If you won't do it for me or Joel, do it for Gwen and the baby."

My heart softens against my will. But not because of Jude, or even Joel. It's only because of Gwen and the tiny little miracle she's carrying. Is Joel in some sort of financial trouble and worried about caring for them? My thoughts want to spiral and cling to whichever scenario makes the most sense, but not a lot does without knowing the truth that I know Jude is keeping from me.

I press a hand to my forehead, warding off an oncoming headache. I don't have the mental capacity to deal with this right now, not when I'm supposed to be signing books, connecting with my readers, and relishing this accomplishment.

"You're ruining this day," I mutter before meeting Jude's eyes. His expression is blank, maddening me further. I heave a frustrated groan. "Fine. I won't say anything. Yet. And I expect you not to say anything to anyone about this little rendezvous we just had. I know nothing, you know nothing. Understood?"

His smug smile quirks higher. "This…rendezvous? Wouldn't that word imply something romantic?"

I bite back a scoff. "You wish, but no. It's just a meeting. Of people. In a place." He starts to say something, but I scoot out into the main part of the bookstore before he gets the chance. There's nothing more we need to say to one another. He's keeping my secret, and I'm keeping his. For the time being, anyway.

I rush past the shelves of books and slip into the seat behind my setup, smiling at the mom with a baby strapped to her chest who's waiting for me to sign her copy. "Hi, there. Sorry to keep you waiting."

"Oh no, you're fine! It's just such a pleasure to meet you." She hands me her book and begins to tell me what her favorite scene was when a masculine figure out of the corner of my eye catches my attention.

Stupid Jude casually walks by my table with his eyes trained on me, watching my interaction with the woman in a way that tells me he's plotting. Calculating. Scheming some way that he can annoy me further today.

When he disappears through the small crowd of people in front of my table, I breathe a sigh of relief. Hopefully, he's waltzing toward the door and forgetting all about our interaction. I try to suppress the lingering weird feelings from my rendezvous with Jude and meet the next five people in line. It's harder to enjoy now that I have a secret the size of an anvil sitting on my chest.

And to make matters worse, the nightmare himself saunters up to my table.

"Evie Chandler, is it?" He smiles, shoving his hands in his fitted jeans pockets. "Gosh, I just love meeting authors in person. I'm an avid reader, you know."

No. I didn't know, nor did I want to know. "You weren't next," I blurt.

"Sure I am." He leans back and swings his attention to the two middle-aged women behind him. "Excuse me, ladies, were either of you next?"

"Oh, no," the redhead croons. "It was your turn." She flashes him an enamored smile when he thanks her and steps toward me.

"See? Told you."

I suck in my lower lip and clamp down on it hard to keep from screaming. "Why are you doing this?"

"I'm not doing anything, Chan—I mean—Evie Chandler." With all the audacity of a man who can't take a hint, he picks up one of my paperbacks from the table and flips it open, the whoosh of air from the cream pages flipping fluttering his messy blond hair. "You're selling books, aren't you?"

"Yes. To people who will actually read them." I go to yank the book away from him, but he holds it just out of my reach. For the first time in a long time, the urge to utter a curse word hangs heavy on my tongue. I resist in the name of propriety.

"I want to buy this book because I will read it," he says, lips twitching like they want to break free into a full-mouthed smile.

"No."

His eyebrows fly up under the hair hanging over his forehead. "No? Just…no?"

"No, you're not allowed to read it." I wave my hand through the air, shooing him away. "Now move along, you're holding up the line."

Jude sends me a look that borders on sinister before he turns back to the women behind him. "I'm so sorry to bother you again, ladies, but am I taking too long? I just…" He releases a lovesick sounding sigh that only I seem to know is fake as he presses my book over his heart. "I just love meeting new-to-me authors. Please tell me what your favorite part in the book was. I want to know what I can look forward to."

Both women giggle happily as they scoot closer. "Well," the redhead begins, "I adored the part where the MMC called the girl his ‘backpack' whenever she rode his motorcycle with him."

Jude gives her an exaggerated nod with a fake dreamy sigh. "So good. What else?"

The other woman chimes in. "Personally, the part where they had to share the same bed was my favorite. The tension was just…mmm…chef's kiss!"

My cheeks heat when Jude sends me a wink before he swivels back to the women. "All right. You two convinced me. I need the book. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll say goodbye to Miss Chandler and let you two take a turn."

They titter and wave Jude off like he hung the moon as he turns back to me. "Now that we've got that cleared up, I'd like to purchase this romantic masterpiece." He slaps the book on the table, and I glare up at him.

"I hate you." I rage-whisper.

His face scrunches with the pursing of his lips. "Ooh, ouch. That one hurt, peanut. Maybe if you let me buy this off you, I'll let you get one good swing in." He points to the side of his stupidly chiseled jaw. "I mean, you'd have to be able to reach me to make contact, but if you're really nice, I'll even bend down for you."

Rolling my eyes, I sit back in my chair. "Just take it and go."

He cocks an eyebrow. "If I did that, you'd probably cry thief." Pulling his wallet out of a back pocket, he tosses a twenty on the table. "Here. Keep the change."

I swipe up the bill and hold it up. "I don't want your change. I don't want anything from you!" My outburst gains the eye of the two women behind Jude, and both look at me as if I've lost my mind.

"Um," I say, trying to recover, "I mean, I don't want you to leave without a sticker." Grabbing a character sticker, I shove it toward him. "Here. Have a nice day, sir." I narrow my eyes and push the sticker into Jude's chest with as much force as I can muster.

His calloused finger whispers over the underside of my wrist and I jerk my hand back. The low rumble of his laugh reaches me before he turns on his heel and disappears out the door. As soon as he's gone, a shaky breath rushes out of me.

"What a cutie," the redhead says to me, striding up to the table. "Did he give you his number? He looked interested in you."

I close my eyes for a moment, trying to find my calm. But it's lost. Gone. Vanished as soon as Jude made an appearance. When I reopen my eyes, both women are staring at me. "Uh, no. He didn't. He's actually a friend of a friend and kind of annoying."

The women smile and nod at this like it explains everything. "Enemies to lovers," Redhead's friend says. "My favorite trope."

I sigh as they pass me their books to sign and toss all thoughts of Jude into the trash bin of my mind. Enemies to lovers is great for fiction, sure. Real life guys like Jude lack the capacity for the lovers part of that trope, unfortunately. Because they're not cute. They're really and truly annoying. And worse than that, they know secrets about you that you'd rather they didn't.

Who knows what a true enemy would do with that information?