Page 163 of Falling for the Enemy

Her brain took a second to catch up and register what she was actually seeing. Soren’s entire backyard had transformed into something that defied reality. Twinkle lights and the golden glow of a thousand candles flickering under a bright pink sky.

Autumn exploded across his property with deliberate orchestration. Dozens of cream-colored lanterns hung from wrought iron posts, their golden flames casting shadows across the terrace.

A tight ache pulled at her chest the second she saw him.

No. She couldn’t look at him. He didn’t get to make it this easy.

Tears shocked her eyes, and she ripped her blurred stare away.

Pumpkins in graduated sizes clustered in deliberate arrangements, burnt orange ones bleeding into deep charcoal, pale sage baby pumpkins that had yet to ripen, and cream Cinderella ones. Chrysanthemums in wine and burgundy spilled from copper urns, their petals dense as velvet, releasing a green-sweet scent that coated the back of her throat and made it hard to swallow.

The air tasted of everything autumn, awakening sweet nostalgic memories she’d all but forgotten. Her eyes blinked rapidly as a cool breeze carried woodsmoke, challenging the faint chlorine sharpness of the heated pool beyond.

Hay bales layered with quilts in shades of emerald, sapphire, and deep plum. The flagstone terrace curved into the landscape and swirled about the copper firepit.

Beyond that, the jacuzzi churned with gentle insistence, sending ribbons of steam curling into the night sky. Stars sparkled in the sky above as the sun dropped below the horizon in a final, dramatic bow. The twinkle above reflected in the sparkle below, where thousands of fairy lights strung from the bare branches of the orchard beyond.

Her blurry gaze returned to Soren, and her breathing stopped.

His tailored black suit emphasized the breadth of his shoulders and accentuated the sharp lines of his face. And there she was—banshee bag lady, frizzed to the nines and dripping with sweat. She hated him for being so damn pretty.

“Why are you doing this?”

“It was the only way I could think of to get you here.” Even the sound of his voice cut into her. She was defenseless against him.

Completely disarmed by his efforts to impress her, she shook her head. It wasn’t fair. She didn’t want to like him this much. But ever since that first day he was nice to her, the day she warned him not to be, she’d been unable to resist him.

“You tricked me,” she accused, unprepared for whatever this was. “Deelie, come on. We’re leaving.”

“Don’t go. Please. I had to get you here so I could explain. I just need five minutes, Joce. That’s all I ask.”

In one hand, he held a dog whistle. King and Cordelia—the turncoats—sat obediently at his side. In his other hand, he held a small, terrifying velvet box.

“Soren, what is this?”

He took a slow step forward, thumb holding the whistle to his palm as his fingers splayed in a calming motion as if silently commanding her to stay. When she stepped back, like a frightened rabbit ready to bolt, he stilled.

“Don’t run away.”

Shaking her head, she looked up at the sky through blurry eyes. It was too much. Tears slipped past her lashes as she struggled to speak past the lump in her throat.

“Soren…” His name was a plea. “Whatever you’re about to do, don’t. You don’t want this.”

“I know what I want, Jocelyn. I love you.”

Her head fell forward as her heart spasmed. More tears fell and she was embarrassed when she couldn’t stop herself from leaking.

“I think I loved you since the day you snapped my mechanical pencil in half and Mr. Schaffer made you stay for detention.”

A watery laugh slipped past the lump in her throat. “I got grounded for that.”

He shook his head. “Detention, grounding, there was no disciplining the brat out of you.”

She laughed again, because it was true, especially when it came to picking on him. “You deserved my wrath. You called my pigtails dumb.”

“I remember.” He grinned, as if looking back, still able to see her as the new third grader in town. “You were the prettiest girl I’d ever seen.”

She couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Could only stand there, caught between disbelief and the visceral understanding that he was actually saying the things they silently agreed to never say out loud.