Page 5 of Enchanted to Meet You

“If you think protecting myself from a serial killer is anger management⁠—”

He scoffed. “Serial killer?”

“A stranger snuck up on me in the dark. What did you expect?”

“Maybe something reasonable, like not getting punched by someone like they’re auditioning for UFC.”

“Reasonable people don’t sneak up on girls at empty fields, but here we are.”

“It’s a public field. You said it yourself. Being outside, wasn’t it?”

I opened my mouth and then closed it, furious that he’d used my own words against me, furious that I didn’t have anything ready to fire back immediately, which had never once been a problem for me in my life until this exact moment, apparently, with this exact person.

“You’re insufferable,” I finally managed.

“I’ve been told.” He said it like a compliment he’d earned. “Usually by girls who like it, though.”

“I can’t imagine why anyone would like this.” I gestured at all of him, sweeping my hand up and down in a way I hoped conveyed maximum disdain. “You’re rude, you’re smug, and you’re clearly under the impression that any of this is charming.”

He took a step closer, dipping his chin so that he was a mere few inches from my face. I narrowed my eyes. His voice dropped to something mischievous and grating. “And yet, I’m not the one dating someone only in my mind.”

I rolled my eyes. “Maybe we should skip the lecture about who’s pathetic, especially since it’s coming from the guy who apparently can’t hold a relationship longer than a soccer season,” I said, throwing his own rhythm back at him, and something about doing that—turning his weapon around in my hand—felt so good I almost smiled.

For a second, neither of us said anything. The only sound was the distant crack of a bat connecting with a ball somewhere behind me, and Rhys’s eyes narrowing.

“Careful,” he said finally, quieter than before, all the teasing bled out of it and something harder underneath. “You don’t actually know me well enough to swing that hard.”

“You didn’t know me well enough to call me pathetic, but that didn’t stop you.”

“Touché.” The word came out clipped, and I had the distinct, satisfying sense that I’d finally, finally gotten under his skin the way he’d spent the last five minutes getting under mine.

Behind him, the field had gone quiet—practice wrapping up, cleats crunching toward the parking lot, and I registered with a fresh spike of horror that Justin was close enough now that if either of us raised our voice one more notch, this entire humiliating exchange was going to have an audience.

Rhys seemed to clock it at the same moment I did. Whatever had flickered hard and unguarded across his face a second ago vanished, replaced by that same annoying ease, like none of the last five minutes had touched him at all.

“Well.” He pushed off the fence post, rolling his shoulders like he was shaking something off. “This has been fun. We should do it again sometime.”

“Hard pass.”

“You’re right. I’d rather pour lemon juice into a papercut.”

“Couldn’t agree more.”

“Congratulations, by the way.” He was already walking backward toward the parking lot, not even bothering to fully turn around, throwing it over his shoulder with a grin that made my hands curl into fists at my sides all over again. I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of playing along by asking “for what,” but unfortunately for me, I didn’t have to, because he continued, “Pretty sure that’s the most action that fence has seen all year.”

“I hope you trip on your way to your car.”

“Noted, Fence Girl.” He started jogging off toward a car I hadn’t even noticed idling at the curb. He threw the last words over his shoulder like he knew I’d still be standing there listening. “Tell your brother I said hi.”

And then he climbed in the car and shut the door, leaving me standing there with my heart going too fast, my face on fire, and one single, absolutely certain thought crystallizing through the wreckage of the last several minutes:

I had never hated anyone as fast, or as thoroughly, as I hated Rhys Montgomery.

three

“I’ll take the food if you get the mail,” Sebastian said as he pulled back into the driveway later the next morning after picking up takeout for brunch.

I wasn’t surprised that he wanted to go in immediately—Nora would definitely be inside, along with all our siblings and their partners as well. I was the only one in the family that was totally single as a Pringle. Well, me and Mum. But I didn’t imagine her getting in a relationship anytime soon. The thought made me sad all over again, just like every time I thought of Dad—that small ache in my heart, the reminder of the way everything had been so perfect once, and how it had all fallen apart last summer when he walked out on his family without a backwards glance.