Dear Worst Enemy (The Matchmaker Series) Read online

  Dear Worst Enemy

  By

  Sher Dillard

  Copyright 2019 Sher Dillard

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof in any form. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or by any means. This is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author's imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Purple Herb Publishing

  Email – [email protected]

  https://www.facebook.com/Sher.Dillard/

  Other Books by Sher Dillard

  Dragon Fire

  Dragon Heat

  Dragon Blaze

  Rescued

  My Red Riding Hood

  My Brother's Best Friend

  Roll Play

  Snowed Inn

  Dedicated to

  Gary

  Dear Worst Enemy

  Chapter One

  Somethings were just impossible. Erica Jones stared down at the blank sheet of paper and slowly shook her head. The matchmaker had told her to write a letter to her worst enemy. List out all the things that had angered her. It would free up her mind so that she could actually articulate what she wanted in a man.

  Of course, it wasn’t working. Writing had never been her favorite thing. Bagels, breads, and cakes, yes. Words on paper, no.

  Taking a deep breath she wrote:

  Dear Worst Enemy

  Then nothing. Not a thought.

  The problem was, she didn’t have a worst enemy. She hadn’t really ever had a worst enemy. Not unless you thought of Jodi Peterson in sixth grade. And she was pretty sure that wasn’t what the matchmaker meant.

  The closing of a door upstairs made her grit her teeth and cringe. Speaking of worst enemies. Her new neighbor might actually fill the category.

  Each thump as he came down the stairs outside their building sent a dagger of irritation into her very soul. Dramatic? Maybe. But he was the literal worst. She held her breath until she saw him pass in front of her bakery. The normal scowl on his face. Something about him made her angry and she couldn’t put her finger on it.

  He was everything she despised. Too good looking for his own good. The man was a walking poster for masculinity. Tall, very tall, broad shoulders, built like a brick wall. Dark hair, a trimmed beard, and deep eyes. And he treated her like she wasn’t even there. The few times he’d come into the bakery he’d grunted a greeting, paid for his two chocolate chip cookies then turned and left.

  No small talk. No smiles, no opportunity to learn anything about him. To make matters worse, he parked his humongous pick-up truck outside her bakery where she had to look at it all day. Taking a parking spot away from her customers.

  Her stomach tightened into a knot just thinking about it.

  To top it off, he’d gotten the apartment upstairs before she even knew it was available. The property managers for the building knew she was interested if it ever came open, but somehow, this guy got it. The thought made her grind her teeth.

  Then, to make matters even worse. The jerk was a player. He must have had half a dozen women upstairs in the three months he’d lived there.

  She’d be at the bakery early, being a baker, that was par for the course. She’d be kneading the bread and hear him open his door, some woman would giggle. And then she’d get to watch him help them up into his truck so that he could drive them home. On two occasions, he’d simply called them a cab.

  Beautiful women in short skirts and high heels. One look had told her all she had to know. The man was without value. A womanizer. And those idiots were fool enough to fall for his good looks and obvious lack of charm.

  How could some women be so stupid? What made it even worse, they made it harder on all the other women. A man like that grew to expect women to fill his every need. All at no cost. No sense of commitment. No sense of forever.

  Shaking her head, she pulled another batch of brownies from the oven and plopped them down to cool.

  The man, Bill something or other, was a lost cause, she realized. He didn’t seem to work. Probably some kind of trust fund baby. Living off a small inheritance. It couldn’t be very big, not if he was renting an apartment in this part of town.

  He was upstairs almost all the time. Doing who knew what. Had a string of female companions lined up ready to do his bidding. And … acted towards her as if she was three day old bread.

  It was enough to make any woman mad.

  Forget about him, she told herself. Concentrate on the letter. Remember the assignment. Tell your worst enemy what you really think about them. That was what the matchmaker had said.

  Once again, she took at the pen and leaned on the counter as she stared at the piece of paper. But still nothing.

  It was hopeless, she thought as she threw down the pen and started making cupcake batter. No sooner had she started than her world began to feel normal again. Her hands worked without explicit instructions. They just seemed to know what to do. Not like writing a letter where she actually had to address the truth.

  As she worked, her mind drifted back to the man who lived upstairs. What was it about him that angered her so much?

  Was it the wasted life? Or perhaps, the sense of entitlement. As if he was the greatest gift to women and they were lucky to have him in their world even for a short period.

  She couldn’t put her finger on it, but the man pushed every one of her buttons.

  Maybe that was what she should do, she thought as she glanced over at the blank piece of paper. Simply describe what she didn’t want in a man by listing all of his qualities. At least it would be honest.

  Sighing, she poured out the batter, whipped the hair from her eyes, then gently banged the cupcake tins to settle the batter.

  The bell above the door jingled. She turned to see her nemesis himself step into her store. Her breath caught. The man scowled as he looked off into the distance. It was like he was trying to solve world hunger or something.

  He was buying cookies for Christ sake, she thought as she swallowed an angry comment. Instead, she put on her best smile and said, “Good morning,”

  The idiot simply grunted and gave her a half nod then pointed at the chocolate cookies.

  Jesus, she thought. What did those women see in this guy? He had the social graces of a lawnmower. The man filled half her store, it seemed. His mere presence seemed to take oxygen out of the air and make it hard to breath.

  Again, she swallowed a nasty comment and forced the anger back down as she slipped the two cookies into a bag and handed them over.

  He gave her a five dollar bill then turned to leave before she could even give him his change.

  “Have a nice day,” she said through gritted teeth, all the while hoping he didn’t.

  As he left, she could only shake her head. The man was a scowling beast. But not always, she thought. When she saw him with those other women he smiled and seemed to be enjoying himself.

  Of course, he did, she thought. He’d gotten what he wanted and now he was getting rid of them. Of course, he was smiling. What man wouldn’t?

  Sighing heavily, she put the cupcakes in the oven and sat on a stool behind the counter as she fought to control the burning anger inside of her.

  .o0o.

  It was almost a week later when she got the email from the matchmaker. The woman had found the perfect match for her.

  Erica scoffed. Yeah right. Not likely. But her friends had insisted she go through with this stupidity. The idea that some woman who barely knew her was going to find the perfect match f
or her was ridiculous.

  Even she didn’t really know what her perfect match was. She only knew what she didn’t want. Handsome playboys with no meaning in life. But what she was actually looking for was harder to articulate.

  But then, it couldn’t really hurt. Heaven knew that her selection mechanism was broken. A long list of losers proved that.

  Reading down the email, her heart rate increased.

  She was supposed to meet this guy at a charity event on the other side of the city. They would arrive separately, as she had insisted. To many blind dates that had been disasters had drilled that requirement into her head.

  He had already purchased the tickets. She was to meet him at her assigned table for dinner and a charity auction followed by dancing. Black Tie.

  Erica’s eyebrows lifted. Fancy. A positive. Most of the guys she knew wouldn’t have known what black tie meant, let alone know enough to rent a tuxedo.

  And a charity event for the local Boys and Girls club. Again, a definite plus. The guy had a sense of community. Of giving back.

  Not only that, it was on Valentine’s day. Which made it extra special. She wouldn’t be sitting at home, miserable and alone. She would be able to avoid the whole pity party she threw for herself every year.

  She smiled to herself. Maybe the Matchmaker knew something after all. Of course, he could turn out to be completely wrong for her. Don’t get your hopes too much, she told herself. But so far, things sounded good.

  As she thought about it, she mentally went through her closet and decided she needed a new dress. Her heart skipped at the idea of shopping for something special. Not too sexy, but just sexy enough. Obviously not too expensive, but nothing cheap.

  Yes, this might actually be enjoyable. And if it wasn’t. It was all for charity. So, it couldn’t be all bad.

  Chapter Two

  Erica tucked the coat check ticket into her small purse and took a deep breath to calm herself.

  “It’s only a blind date,” she said to herself under her breath. But that fact hadn’t stopped herself from growing more and more excited as the time grew closer. A sense of hope and possibilities had hung around long enough to grow into want and need.

  As she stepped into the hotel lobby, she paused for a moment to look into an ornate mirror on the wall. Yes, everything was as it was supposed to be. Heaven knew she’d spent half the afternoon getting ready. Her hair was in place. Her new little black dress clung to her in all the right spots. Cleavage, but not too much cleavage.

  She smiled to herself. This guy was going to be impressed.

  She had turned the store over to Carla and written out a list of a dozen things to call her about if they went wrong. Carla had laughed as she looked at the list, then crumpled it up and threw it into the trash.

  “I’ll agree to call you if the place is on fire,” her assistant said. “Otherwise. It can wait. Have fun.”

  Erica had reluctantly agreed. But even now, it took every bit of effort not to call and check that everything was okay. Carla should be closing up by now. Would she remember to deposit the receipts? How about the ovens? They were gas and she always checked three times to make sure they were off.

  Taking a deep breath, she tried to push the worries out of her mind. Carla was right. She needed to focus on tonight. How could she ever hope to find someone if she couldn’t pull herself away from the bakery?

  Running a hand down her dress one last time, she stepped into the hotel’s ballroom and smiled to herself. Thirty tables draped in white linen. A band warming up. People talking, finding their spots. This was how the rich people lived, she thought with a smile.

  It was going to be good, she told herself as she gave her name to the young woman at the door. The woman found it and smiled to her as she indicated her table to the front of the room.

  Erica took another calming breath as she made her way over to the table with the auction items. Swallowing hard, she perused the items and note cards as she desperately hoped to find something she could afford to purchase.

  The new dress had taken a hefty bite out of her budget. But there had to be something.

  However, as she looked her spirit sank. Everything was way out of her league. Things like season tickets to the Seahawks, a year long pass to the symphony. Midnight cruises on Eliot Bay. Nope, not going to happen, she realized.

  The best she could hope for was to enter a bid at the low end and bow out when someone bid above her. She could contribute to the charity by making others pay a little more. It was the best she could do.

  Besides, she told herself. She was here for a different purpose.

  Swallowing her disappointment, she straightened her back, lifted her chin, and started for her assigned table.

  Would he be there already? She hoped so. She hated the idea of sitting there all alone with other strangers while waiting for him to arrive. What if he didn’t come? What if he stood her up? She’d look like the ultimate fool.

  Her heart began to race as she fought to keep herself under control. She had put too much on this, she realized. Too much hope.

  There it was, second from the front on the right. And there he was. A broad shouldered man with his back to her. Everyone else was together in couples. It had to be him.

  She smiled to herself. He had all his hair and wide shoulders. Already he was more than she could have hoped for.

  Then he turned and her heart fell. No, it wasn’t possible. How could the universe do this to her?

  There, her date for the evening was her worst enemy. Her upstairs neighbor, looking at her with a confused expression on his face.

  As she faltered for a moment, desperately trying to gather herself. He cocked an eyebrow then let his eyes travel over her slowly. As he did, the deep frown shifted over to an appreciative smile.

  Any other time in her life. Being looked at like that by a handsome man would have made her insides tingle. But not now. Not him. Well, they tingled a little bit. But they shouldn’t have.

  She swallowed twice as she stepped towards him. It couldn’t be avoided. Not without looking like a complete idiot.

  Why? How had this happened? Some cosmic random coincidence. Or was there someone really out to make her life miserable. How was she supposed to make it through an evening being nice and charming to this man?

  It would be impossible.

  He stood up, making her tilt her head back to look up at him. The man was so tall. Well, over six feet. Making her five and a half feel small and feminine.

  “Erica Jones?” he asked with a deep frown while holding out his hand. “Do we know each other?”

  Her heart slammed to a halt. How was this possible? The man didn’t even know her.

  “We are neighbors,” she told him as she continued to hold her chin up. “You live above my bakery.”

  Awareness washed over his eyes as he once again checked her out from shoes to brow. He smiled and nodded.

  “You don’t have streaks of flour on your cheeks,” he said as if that made perfect sense.

  All she could do was cringe inside as he pulled out her chair for her. She sat down and smiled at the other couples at the table. Great, not only was she stuck sitting next to this idiot. But she had an audience.

  It was going to be a long night. Of that, there was no doubt. If it wasn’t a charity event she would have figured out an excuse to cut it short. Reaching over, she took a sip from her water glass. Yes, a long night.

  He sat down and leaned to the side to look at her. His brow creased with confusion. “Why does a beautiful woman like you need a matchmaker?” he asked.

  God, she thought. Why didn’t he just announce it to the entire room? In fact, perhaps he should take out an add in the local paper. Erica Jones can’t find a man. This just proved her instincts were spot on. The man didn’t have any sense.

  She turned to him and tried to give him her best smile. “The same question might apply to you.”

  He laughed and shrugged his shoulders. �
�I have my reasons.”

  She frowned, please she prayed, don’t be one of those people who answered a question with a question. Or vague statements. It would drive her crazy.

  An awkward silence fell over them. Until he laughed to himself and said, “I’m William Davis, by the way.”

  She nodded, “It’s nice to finally meet you, William. We’ve only been neighbors for three months. I’m surprised it happened so quickly.”

  He laughed. At least the man could take a joke, she thought. But then, of course he could. The guy was pure male. More confidence than he deserved. Especially in that tux. It made him look like he could move mountains or conquer worlds. As if he had a deep knowledge of how to get things done.

  Her insides turned over. How had she ended up in this situation? Wait until that damn matchmaker got a piece of her mind. The woman would rethink her entire process. How dare she do this to her. Didn’t the woman know enough to know this was exactly the type of man she could never be in a long term relationship with?

  “So, a charity event?” she said as she took another sip of her water. Her mouth seemed to be dryer than the Gobi desert and no amount of water would ever make it go away.

  He shrugged those massive wide shoulders of his and cocked his head. As if that was all the explanation he needed to provide.

  She raised an eyebrow, refusing to be dismissed so easily.

  He sighed again then said, “It seemed like a safe way to meet someone I didn’t know. Enough other things going on that we could be distracted if necessary. A common cause to ease awkward situations. And, besides, it’s for charity.”

  She could only nod, it did make sense when he explained it that way.

  Once again, that awkward silence enveloped them. The other couples seemed set. Well established partnerships. No cringe worthy first dates.

  Erica glanced around the room. Anything to avoid dealing with her companion. She noticed an older woman approaching them. Late fifties, gray hair, pearls. The kind of woman who looked like she belonged at an event like this. But there was something about her eyes that told a different story.