Page 47 of Falling for the Enemy

Their relationship—ugh, was that even the right term?

Whatever it was, it stopped being a one-night stand months ago. It was inevitably going to end, and maybe now was the time. Then she could finally move on.

Her head was spinning so fast it was making her nauseous. Visions of Wren’s nursery collided with memories of the Great Dane, the blonde kissing Soren, Soren kissing her. The last time they slept together. The time before that. The note he left on her nightstand. The way he tried to do the right thing. The way she kept pushing him out of her life, and how he kept showing back up. The way he walked away tonight. The way he put his hand on the base of his date’s spine. The way he opened her door. The way he never looked back.

And that was exactly what she needed to do. Close this chapter in her life and never look back.

CHAPTER 5

“DIRTY LITTLE SECRET”

Soren pulled up to his house just as the morning sun peeked through the surrounding trees, but there was an old jeep in his usual parking spot. “Shit.”

Climbing out of the Escalade, he gave a confused smile to his sister-in-law. “Wren, what are you doing here?”

She awkwardly pushed herself up from the porch step and stood, the bottom curve of her rounded belly poking past the hem of her yoga shirt. “You’re out early. Or is it that you’re getting home late?”

He frowned at the not-so-hidden accusation in her voice. “Uh, I didn’t know I had a curfew.”

King barked from inside, and she glanced back at the locked door. “You know, it’s not nice to leave animals unattended for too long. Especially when they’re adjusting to a new home.”

“Hold up. Did I miss something? Why do I feel like I’m in trouble?”

“I don’t know. Guilty conscience?”

He mentally retraced his steps, wondering if he had forgotten something. Her birthday wasn’t for a couple of months, and he was pretty sure she hadn’t asked him for any favors lately.

He moved to the back of his car and popped the tailgate, withdrawing his gym bag and hoisting it over his shoulder. “My conscience is clear.”

Her eyes narrowed on the bag. “Why do you have an overnight bag?”

“It’s my gym bag. I was just there with my trainer. Do you need him to write me a note?”

Her shoulders instantly softened, and her head lowered. “Sorry. I thought… It doesn’t matter. I have no right to question you like that.”

“Yeah, that was weird.” He dug out his keys. “What’s going on, Wren?”

She followed him up the steps and into the house. Soren tossed his bag inside the two-story foyer and set his keys on the table by the champagne wall. Wren had seen his collection before, but she still took a second to admire it.

“Coffee?”

“I can’t.”

“Oh. Right. Water?”

“Sure.” She followed him into the kitchen, where he uncapped a glass bottle of the German stuff he had shipped in.

“Glass?”

“The bottle’s fine.”

He handed it to her and turned on his state-of-the-art espresso machine. While the machine pressure adjusted, he pulled a sausage and egg burrito from the freezer. “Want one?”

“No thanks.”

He tossed it in the microwave. “So, what brings you by?”

She climbed onto a barstool. His furniture was top-of-the-line, but that didn’t always mean it was built for comfort. She looked awkward sitting at the counter with her belly taking up all that space.