Page 70 of Falling for the Enemy

She gave him a flat stare. “You don’t ask for anything. You command, and you’ve tried to order me around plenty.”

He snickered. “You like being ordered around.”

She smacked his arm. “That’s not what I mean, and you know it.”

“Jocelyn, listen to me. You’re predicting things that haven’t happened yet, and finding me guilty for crimes I’ve yet to commit. I have no intention of changing you. Why would I?”

“Because I don’t fit your life. I don’t perform.”

“Good. There are enough fake women out there.”

“You say that now, but what happens when you have some fancy event to attend, and you need a date who silently holds her designer clutch and poses as arm candy all night, laughing softly at misogynistic jokes that are only funny at the disenfranchised expense of others? I wouldn’t be able to stomach that. On the contrary, I’d probably end up telling off one of your stuffy colleagues and ruining all possibilities of future business deals.”

He didn’t deny it, because he knew more than anyone how short her fuse could be.

Even today, when Olivia approached her. She should have just walked away, but she couldn’t. That prissy bitch had shown her claws, and Jocelyn bit back.

Maybe there was something broken inside of her. Or maybe it came from years of protecting herself when no one else came to save her. Whatever the cause, to the battlefield of lost boyfriends and her agent’s dismay, she was beyond refinement or PR training. And Soren Hawthorne’s life took center stage in a very public light.

“Look, I’ve spent years dating women who can hold a smile through the most pretentious affairs. They play the role perfectly. They know the script, and yes, it makes some situations easier, but it’s all performative, an act they’ve mastered, so when they do compliment me, I have no idea if it’s genuine. With you, I never know what might come out of your mouth, but I know it’s real and unrehearsed, Joce.”

She didn’t deny it. She always told it like it was, sugar coating nothing to protect his ego.

“After months of buckling down and dating women who appear perfect on paper, I lost more sleep over the one woman who fits none of my criteria.”

She hated how her heart fluttered at the vision of him losing sleep over her. She’d never even seen his bedroom, but the thought of him sitting up at night, thinking of her under some high-thread-count linen sheets while she slept soundly…it did something to her.

“I think it’s time we stop fighting the inevitable, Joce. Sometimes, it’s not a numbers game, and you have to go with your gut and trust your instincts above all else.”

He thought the solution was to run at this full speed and simply power through, but her instincts warned that he was being short-sighted. There would come a time when he realized he’d made the wrong choice. And then the fallout would come. The awkwardness around the others. The resentment. It would poison their friend group until one of them eventually pulled back.

She loved her home, loved her community. The townspeople were all she had. But he had his brothers. Real family. His life just seemed so much more anchored in this place than hers, and if he wanted to, he could easily push her out.

Then, he’d eventually move on and meet a real partner that suited his needs. Sooner or later he’d bring her around to birthdays, christenings, holidays…

How would she stomach that?

The food had been delivered, and they barely touched their plates. Every time the waitress had come by to check on them, Soren had silently signaled her away. Her glass was empty, and her dinner was cold, but she didn’t want a refill of either.

“I should go. Cordelia’s at home and it’s past her dinner time.”

“Come to my place.”

She stilled. Soren had never once invited her to his private home. Even as friends, she’d never stepped inside his inner sanctum.

“I can’t. Cordelia needs⁠—”

“Bring her. King’s there. They can play.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“One night, Joce. Give me one night to convince you before you completely shut me down. That’s all I ask.”

It wasn’t a small request. It was a genie wish for a million more wishes.

At least when he came to her house, she decided when to let him in and could disappear when she wanted him to leave. Now, he was aiming for a home-court advantage.

She looked around the bar, but no one was staring.