Twisted Hate: An Enemies with Benefits Romance

the temptation of sweets. “I’m working out of the kitchen until it comes in.
And,” I pointed my pen at him, triumph filling my veins, “you broke the
truce.”
“No, I didn’t.” Josh rolled up his sleeves, revealing tanned, lightly veined
forearms. A heavy watch glinted on his wrist, and as someone with an odd
thing for men and watches, I would’ve found the sight hot had he not been,
well, him. “Sarcasm isn’t the same as an insult. I’m sarcastic with my friends
all the time. It’s how I show my love.”
I rolled my eyes so hard I was surprised I didn’t enter another dimension.
“Yes, you obviously meant to show your love for me with your statement.”
“No, I meant to show my love for you with this.” Josh lengthened his
drawl with exaggerated slowness, like he was speaking to a child. He opened
the box, and my eyes zeroed in on the cupcake sitting smack dab in the
middle.
Salted caramel. My favorite.
My stomach emitted a low rumble of approval. I’d been so caught up in
work I hadn’t eaten since my paltry lunch of a salad and smoothie a few
hours ago.
Josh’s mouth lifted into a smirk while I shuffled my papers loudly to hide
the sound. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of salivating over anything he
bought.
“Consider it my official olive branch.” He pushed the box toward me.
“Along with me not mentioning how you broke the truce by insulting my

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observational skills, which are excellent, by the way.”
Only Josh could claim credit for not doing something he just did.
Instead of arguing with him, I poked at the cupcake with suspicion. “Did
you poison it?” There was a difference between being civil and buying
someone their favorite cupcake unprompted.
“Nah, I was in a rush. Maybe next time.”
“Hilarious. Netflix should give you a standup special.” I plucked the
cupcake from the box and examined it more closely for signs of tampering.
“I know.” Josh oozed cockiness. “It’s one of my many wonderful
attributes.”
I fought another eye roll. There were probably a hundred poor souls
walking around with low self-esteem so Josh Chen could sail through life
with an ego the size of Jupiter. Satan must’ve been distracted the day he
created his hellspawn and poured a little too much obnoxiousness into Josh’s
beaker.
“How did you know salted caramel is my favorite?” I squinted at a tiny
black mark on the cupcake wrapper.
A mere scratch from an errant marker, or proof of poison? Hmmm…
“It doesn’t take a genius to figure it out.” Josh nodded at the venti drink
on the table. “Every time I see you, you’re inhaling a caramel mocha the size
of your head.”
Okay, fair point. My love for all things caramel-flavored wasn’t exactly a
secret.
“Keep it up and you’ll get diabetes,” he added. “All that sugar isn’t good
for you.”
“So you’re feeding me more sugar in the hopes I’ll become diabetic.” I
tapped my pen against the table with my free hand. “I knew you had nefarious
intentions.”
Josh sighed and pinched his brow. “Jules, eat the damn cupcake.”
I stifled a grin. I was mostly fucking with him at this point, and I really
was starving. If I was going to die, I might as well die eating something I
loved.
I peeled back the wrapper and took a small bite. Warm, delicious
sweetness burst onto my tongue, and I couldn’t hold back a soft moan of
appreciation.
Nothing beat a salted caramel cupcake after hours of work.
Josh watched while I ate, his exasperated expression giving way to

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something I couldn’t identify.
Uncharacteristic self-consciousness pricked at my skin. “What?”
He opened his mouth, then closed it and leaned back in his chair, lacing
his fingers behind his head. “I like you a lot better when you aren’t talking. I
should bring you food more often.”
“Good thing I don’t give two damns whether you like me or not.” My
words dripped with honey. “But if you want to buy me food, go ahead. Just
know I’ll inspect every inch before it goes into my mouth.”
I realized my mistake before the sentence fully left my mouth.
Shit. That came out dirtier than I’d intended.
Josh’s face split into a devilish grin.
“Don’t.” I held up one hand, my cheeks warming. “Save yourself from
whatever juvenile joke you were about to spew.”
To my surprise, he did.
Josh tapped a finger on the pile of papers in front of me. “You know there
are other places you could work besides the kitchen.”
“Like where, the bathroom?” LHAC was tiny, and I didn’t want to
impose on anyone else’s workspace. “It’s fine. It’s comfortable in here.”
If you overlooked the ice-cold temperature, rickety table, and stiff
wooden chairs, that is. Still, it beat working from the toilet seat.
“Yeah, if you compare it to the Siberian wild.”
I released an annoyed sigh. “Are you here to work, or are you here to
pester me?”
“I can do both. I’m a great multitasker,” Josh quipped before his eyes
turned serious. “Heard we got a new case today.”
“Yep.” I slid the papers toward him, snapping into work mode. “The
Bowers. The mother, Laura Bower, fell down the stairs and can’t work for
the next two months. No insurance, so they have a crazy amount of medical
bills, and she’s the family’s sole breadwinner. Her husband Terence got out
of jail a few years ago but hasn’t been able to find work because of his
criminal record. They have two kids, Daisy and Tommy, ages six and nine.”
“They’re facing eviction.” Josh scanned the files.
I nodded. “Laura needs a stable place to recover from her fall, to say
nothing of the issues that accompany homelessness.”
Murky, unwanted memories crowded my brain at the last word.