The voices fade, and after a bit we pull away.
“We should probably head back,” she says, voice low and secret, just for me.
I kiss her on the forehead because I can.
“I know the way,” I tell her, and we walk off, hand in hand.
The End
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Eli Loveless was my nemesis from the first day of kindergarten until we graduated high school.
Everything I did, he had to do better - and vice versa.
The day he left town was the best day of my life.
And now? He’s back.
FREE BOOK: Get Enemies With Benefits (Loveless Brothers #1) now!
(Or turn the page for a sneak peek.)
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This book, like all my books, would probably not exist without the gentle-yet-firm guiding hand of Becca Hensley Mysoor, aka the Fairy Plotmother. Thank you for being my book-writing North Star, and also for the time you shut me in a dark room with snacks and said I couldn’t come out until I’d finished the chapter I was stuck on.
An enormous thank you also to Julia Jarrett and Theresa Leigh, who have been tireless cheerleaders, irreplaceable brainstorming partners, and who sometimes make me laugh so hard I think I might asphyxiate. Sorry for all the times I laid on the floor and word-vomited into a voice memo, but also, thank you for listening to all those and responding so reasonably.
Thanks to Alec J. Marsh for the incredibly helpful sensitivity read, and especially for doing it at the eleventh hour.
None of this would be happening at all without my husband, the talented and lovely Mr. Noir, who knows exactly which TikToks will make me laugh and who reminds me about things like “time” and “lunch.”
And finally, thanks to everyone who’s read and enjoyed my books in the past, especially the other Wildwood Society books and the Loveless Brothers series. When I decided to write some romcoms set in my home state I didn’t quite realize the scale of what I was getting myself into, but I’m so glad I did it.
ENEMIES WITH BENEFITS
LOVELESS BROTHERS, BOOK ONE
Roxie Noir
CHAPTER ONE
VIOLET
This is going off the rails.
I don’t want it to. I wish it wasn’t, because I started this date the way I start every date: with unbridled optimism. Before I actually go on a date, I’m always overflowing with excitement and the soul-deep knowledge that somewhere out there in the mountainous wilds of southwestern Virginia lives my Prince Charming, ready to show up and whisk me away.
Okay, that’s overstating things a little. I have zero interest in an actual prince, and being whisked sounds like it’s some kind of baking-gone-wrong incident, but I’d like to have a life partner. When done properly, it seems like having one is nice.
I’d like someone to make me look forward to going home at the end of the day. Someone to make me laugh on long car rides. Someone to snuggle during the long mountain nights, preferably someone warmer than me.
I just don’t want the wrong life partner.
“You’ve never been here before, huh?” Todd asks, looking at his menu and not at me.
“No, but I’ve heard good things,” I say, keeping it upbeat.
“Yeah, I figured you hadn’t,” he says, finally glancing at me over the menu. He’s smirky and smug. Smugky? “You should’ve seen the look on your face when I said where I was taking you, like I’d just told you it was Christmas morning.”
I want to give him the benefit of the doubt. I keep reminding myself over and over not to judge a book by its cover. People are invariably deeper and more complex than they seem at first.
After all, he took me to Le Faisan Rouge, the fanciest and only French restaurant in Burnley County. He opened his truck door for me when he picked me up. He pulled my chair out for me when I sat down in the restaurant. He settled my napkin on my lap with a flourish, like a perfect gentleman.
But the smug smirking. The fact that he corrected my pronunciation of Le Faisan Rouge with a pronunciation that was completely incorrect. I’ve never been to France, but I did take a semester of French in college, and I know how to say rouge, thanks.
“Don’t get to go to many five-star restaurants, I assume?” he asks, smugly sipping his water.
Optimism: slipping.
“I’ve heard the steak is good,” I say, deciding I’m going to keep having the conversation I’d rather not be having. “Maybe I’ll get that.”
Todd just snorts, then leans across the table like he’s got a secret he wants to tell me.
“The steak’s the best thing on the menu but that doesn’t mean it’s very good,” he says, looking around. “I heard a rumor that the chef made friends with the restaurant reviewer when they were in town, if you know what I mean. One of the perks of being a female chef, I guess. Garçon!”
There’s so much going on with that statement that I just stare at him for a moment.
Did he really just shout at the waiter?
And insinuate that the chef slept with a reviewer?
“I hadn’t heard that,” I say, my voice getting brittle. I keep scanning the menu, reminding myself: book. Cover.
But of course, none of the menu items have prices. My heart curls into a little ball, because I have very firm beliefs regarding first dates: I pay my own way.
I don’t like being paid for. I don’t like feeling as if I owe someone something. I don’t like feeling like I shouldn’t order gold-plated lobster with a side of caviar if I feel like it.
Not that I ever do. I’ve got a budget.
“Well, you wouldn’t unless you’re really tuned into the local restaurant scene,” Todd says. “I’m personal friends with a few other chefs around town, and that’s the rumor going around. Garçon!”
Optimism: running on fumes.
“Any chance they’re all men whose restaurants got lower ratings?” I ask. At this point I’ll do almost anything make him stop shouting garçon like that. With his accent it sounds like gar-sawwn, and it grates on my ears every time he does it.
Todd ignores my question completely.
“GAR-SAWN!” he says, even more loudly than before. From the corner of my eye I can see the people at the next table over look at us. I don’t look back. I’m too afraid I’d recognize them, even though we’re in Grotonsville – one town over from Sprucevale, where I actually live – and then I’d have to acknowledge that I’m here with Todd.
That’s when it happens.
Todd snaps his fingers at our server.