Love to Hate You: An Enemies-to-Lovers New Adult College Sports Romance
Love to Hate You: Chapter 3

“Hi, Aunt Marnie!” I call out while coming through the front door with Noah and Carter hot on my heels.

Noah’s mother, Aunt Marnie, stands at the huge black granite island in the center of the kitchen. She’s wearing a pretty sundress, with her long blond hair pulled back into a ponytail. It’s her go-to hairstyle. Easy and low maintenance, just like her.

A warm smile lights up her face as she glances up. “Hey, sweetheart!” With a big wooden spoon in hand, she mixes together a macaroni salad for the Labor Day barbecue she and my uncle are hosting. Everyone in the neighborhood is invited, as well as all of Noah and Carter’s teammates, who turn up en masse.

Since they have a kick-ass in-ground pool, there’s always an abundance of man candy to gawk at. It’s probably one of the only perks to having a cousin who plays in a Division I football program. These guys work out all year long like it’s their job and have the buff bodies to prove it.

Carter bumps into me, muttering something about slowpokes under his breath that makes me bristle in irritation. I’d normally hit back with an equally disparaging remark, but I’m not on speaking terms with him because I’m still pissed that he ruined my date with Logan.

I try not to think about the other night too much because when I do, images of Carter wearing nothing but a pair of tight briefs that hug his sculpted torso dance through my head. It kills me to admit that he has a stunning body. All of his perfectly chiseled muscles pop out in sharp relief whenever he moves.

As someone who’s into art and enjoys drawing, I can totally appreciate his…form.

I shove that thought from my head before I start drooling.

Simply stepping foot into this house is enough to calm my jacked-up nerves. It’s home to me more so than my own ever was. I have so many fond memories of pulling up a stool and pouring my heart out to Aunt Marnie while she prepped dinner at the end of the day. Any problem I was struggling with could always be shared with her.

I’m lucky that Noah’s parents opened their home to me after my parents divorced when I was fourteen years old. It happened during the summer right before freshman year of high school. No one was shocked when my parents decided to call it quits. Everyone who knew them saw it coming like a train collision in slow motion. I think the only reason Mom and Dad hung on for as long as they did was because of me. Divorce sucks, but in some regard, it was a big relief for all of us. There were no more bouts of screaming and yelling interlaced with uncomfortable stretches of silence that lasted for days.

As soon as the decision was made, their marriage came down like a house of cards. Within months, the paperwork was signed, and my dad uprooted his life and took off for Texas. He’s still there seven years later. Only now he’s married, with two kids who are my half-siblings. I’ve only met them a handful of times, so it’s hard to consider them family. The few times I flew out for visits felt awkward, like I was staying with strangers. The last time, I changed my ticket and came back a week early. I haven’t been there since. Every couple of months, Dad and I talk on the phone. Sometimes we’ll shoot texts back and forth, but the closeness we once shared is long gone.

And my mother…I’m not sure how to describe her other than to say that she’s currently on her fourth marriage and galivanting around Europe. Frederique, her husband, has estates across the world, so I never know from one week to the next where they are.

I love my mom, but she’s a bit of a head case. The last time she blew into town, I overheard Uncle Craig mutter under his breath that she was a flake. And that’s putting it nicely. In Lydia Bellamy’s world, husbands are dispensable, and marriage doesn’t last forever.

For two months every summer, I pack up and fly to wherever she’s currently located. Last year was Monte Carlo. The summer before that was London. And it was Tuscany the year before that.

I know…boo hoo, poor me.

It’s not like I can complain. The scenery is always magical, and she takes me shopping, buying me whatever I want. We lunch and fill our days with spa dates. I always come back to school feeling well-rested and pampered.

If our relationship is more superficial than intimate, I try not to let it bother me. When she treats me more like a girlfriend she just met yachting in the South of France and confides details I’d prefer not to know about the men in her life, I let it go in one ear and out the other before it can do any permanent psychological damage.

She’s been with Frederique for two years. I suspect their relationship will reach its expiration date shortly. Even though I really liked husbands number two and three, I don’t bother getting attached. Just when I let my guard down, they’re headed for the door and she’s moving on to greener pastures.

Or men with bigger bank accounts.

It blows my mind that Marnie and Mom are related, let alone sisters. They couldn’t be more different. Unlike my mother, Noah’s mom is down to earth and sensible. She has a Bachelor of Science in Nursing and works in the emergency room at the local hospital. My mother has a degree from a fashion institute and spent a few years employed by a well-known design house before deciding the working life wasn’t for her.

Last summer break, I cajoled Noah into spending two weeks with me in Monte Carlo. After three days with my whirlwind of a mother, he told me flat out that Lydia was—and I quote—“fucking nuts.”

It’s difficult to take issue with that statement because he’s right.

She’s a wackadoodle.

“Hey, Aunt Marn.” Carter’s deep voice resonates throughout the spacious kitchen.

She flashes him an affectionate smile.

Marn.

His pet name for her sets my teeth on edge. It annoys me that Noah’s mom has a soft spot for Carter.

Then again, everything about Carter Prescott annoys the hell out of me.

“She’s not your aunt,” I snap, not able to block out his irritating presence after his antics the other night. “You are in no way, shape, or form related to these people.” If my aunt weren’t here, I would bare my teeth at him.

See?

This is what Carter does to me. He turns me into a raging bitch. Not only am I pissed at him, but now I’m angry with myself for allowing him to get under my skin.

Surprised by my outburst, my aunt shoots me a sharp, disapproving look. “Daisy, that’s not very nice. Carter is practically family.”

I wince at her tone. The fact that she’s chastising me is embarrassing enough. But doing it in front of Carter makes it even worse and has me simmering while silently plotting his death. Aunt Marnie has a strange affinity for the goon. Personally, I can’t make heads or tails of it.

“He’s Noah’s brother from another mother,” she quips while giving Carter a wink.

“Ewww.” Noah wrinkles his nose. “That’s gross, Mom. Don’t ever say that again.”

I grumble under my breath and avoid looking anywhere in Carter’s vicinity. He’s probably smirking in delight for getting a rise out of me.

The big jerk.

Aunt Marnie knows that Carter and I don’t get along. I’ve groused about him on several occasions. Multiplied by infinity.

Noah and Carter met during football camp before freshman year and have been tight ever since. Even though Noah has skills when it comes to football, he’s not good enough to turn pro. He loves it but doesn’t live and breathe it the way some of the other guys on the team do. Noah has already taken the LSAT and is working on completing his applications for law school.

Carter, on the other hand, lives and breathes football. It’s his passion. His focus. He and I don’t talk about his future, but I hear the gossip floating around campus. Most guys are more than happy to boast about their prospects if they’re heading to the NFL. But Carter isn’t one of them. He’s guarded and private. He doesn’t discuss his family or brag about his post-college plans. I may live with the guy, but I know next to nothing about him. Which is just fine by me.

Thankfully Aunt Marnie doesn’t say anything more on the subject. The last thing I need is to get my butt chewed out in front of Carter. He’d probably pull up a chair, munch on a bag of popcorn, and enjoy the show.

The loud, happy voices emanating from the backyard make all four of us turn toward the French doors. It’s still early, but there are already about forty people on the patio and enjoying themselves in the pool. I smile while watching Uncle Craig flip burgers and hot dogs. He’s broken out his blue Superman apron and is laughing with one of the neighbors as he takes a swig from his beer bottle. If the entire football team turns out like they did last year, he’ll have to man the grill for the entire afternoon.

Catching sight of a few teammates, Noah and Carter exit through the glass doors.

“Slather on some sunscreen!” Aunt Marnie calls after them. When they glance back at her, she points to a couple of yellow bottles on a table near the door. “Safety first.”

Not following the guys outside, I linger behind in the kitchen, giving my aunt a kiss on the cheek. I love spending time with her. Sometimes I feel guilty for thinking it, but she’s the mother I wish I’d been born with.

I gesture at the spread in front of us. “Is there anything I can help with?”

With a critical eye, she surveys the bowls of salads and pastas on the granite island. Instead of hiring a caterer like most working women, she always opts to make food for parties herself. By the looks of it, she’s going to feed a small army. Or the BU football team. They may not be an army, but they certainly eat like one. “Sure. You can help carry these to the table set up out back in about fifteen minutes.”

I nod. “Sounds like a plan.”

Now that the food has been taken care of, my aunt washes her hands and dries them with a towel. As she does, her gaze lingers on my face. “How’s everything going?” Her eyes narrow as she studies me. “Are you doing all right?”

Instead of firing off a response, I force myself to inhale a breath and calmly let it out. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Now that Carter has joined the party, the agitation buzzing through my system gradually dissipates. Yes, I’m irritated with him for his antics the other night, but there’s more to my unease than just that alone. Carter has the uncanny ability of setting me on edge. It’s constant. Which is exhausting.

If her penetrating gaze is anything to go by, Aunt Marnie doesn’t believe me. “Classes are going okay?”

“So far, so good.” I’m a graphic art major. Now that all my general education requirements are out of the way, I was able to fill my schedule with art classes. I tacked on a sociology class—which I love—because I’m interested in the subject.

Too bad Carter ended up in the same section. We’ve never had one class together until now. I don’t even know what he’s majoring in, and yet, we somehow got stuck in Soc 210—Current Social Problems.

Still eyeing me, she hangs up the towel, and tries to suss out the truth. “And living with Noah and Carter is working out?”

I wouldn’t go that far.

But I can’t tell her that.

Stalling for time, I grab a carrot stick from the humongous veggie platter and munch on it while shrugging. “It’s fine.”

Again, my mind tumbles back to the stunt Carter pulled Friday night. He’s lucky he made himself scarce for the rest of that evening or I don’t think I could have been held responsible for my actions.

Any future dates with Logan can be kissed goodbye. I texted the blond frat boy yesterday to see if we could meet up and discuss my living situation in more depth to straighten out any misconceptions he might have.

I never heard back from him, which I’m pretty sure means that my initial assumptions were spot on.

And do you know who I can blame for that?

Carter freaking Prescott.

Aunt Marnie leans against the counter and crosses her arms over her chest. “How are you and Carter getting along?”

“Just as well as we always do,” I say with forced brightness.

It’s not exactly a lie.

She sighs and gently asks, “Have you ever considered cutting Carter some slack?”

My brows slam together, and I straighten to my full height.

Cut him some slack?

The guy is a total asshole. And I’m not one to throw that word around lightly.

“Why would I do that?” If she knew even a tenth of what Carter has said or done to me, she wouldn’t be so quick to make that suggestion.

Aunt Marnie shrugs her slender shoulders and a strange look flickers in her eyes. “Have you ever considered the possibility that if you got to know Carter better, maybe gave him more of a chance, you might replace some common ground?”

My mouth tumbles open. “I can say with total honesty that I have never considered that possibility.”

I’d much rather wallop him upside the head. I’m only sorry that his reflexes are good and that he caught the remote control I threw at him the other night before it could smack him in the forehead.

How satisfying would that have been?

Maybe Marnie and my mother have more in common than I’d originally suspected. She must be legitimately crazy to offer up that idea. I’ve learned enough about Carter Prescott to know that I’m not interested in discovering anything else.

Give him more of a chance?

Never!

Friday night wasn’t the first time he’s ruined one of my dates. The guy enjoys messing with me. It’s his favorite pastime. On top of that, he’s an arrogant, womanizing, football-playing jerk who likes to get into fights. I haven’t personally witnessed him getting into a physical altercation, but I’ve seen the aftermath on his face the next morning.

My eyes fasten on Carter through the window just in time to see him strip off his graphic tee and toss it onto one of the loungers scattered around the concrete patio. All his sun-kissed muscles ripple as he dives headfirst into the crystal-clear pool.

My mouth dries, and my heart picks up its tempo.

“Daisy?” Aunt Marnie’s voice sounds like it’s traveling through a tunnel from a million miles away as she waves a hand in front of my face. “Earth to Daisy.”

My face heats in embarrassment as I yank my gaze from the spot where Carter last stood. Under no circumstances do I want to watch him surface from the water. I’m liable to have a mini-orgasm right here in the kitchen.

I bite back a groan and try to pull myself together.

I don’t even like this guy!

No, seriously. I don’t!

My body obviously hasn’t received the memo. I really need to work on that.

“Yeah?” I say, trying to remain calm even though it feels like I’m experiencing a hot flash and my legs have grown shaky. I’d like to slap myself silly for the unwanted attraction zipping through me.

“Maybe,” Aunt Marnie says, picking up the thread of our previous conversation, “you should give it a try and see what happens.”

Ummm…no, thank you. I’ll take a hard pass on that proposal.

By the way she arches a brow, I have a feeling that my disgruntled expression conveys my thoughts perfectly.

“You know,” she pauses, her eyes fixed on something or someone beyond the kitchen window. She bites her lip in an unusual show of hesitation, which is odd for her.

I tilt my head and wait for her to continue.

Her gaze shifts back to me. “I know Carter seems—”

“Cocky? Arrogant? Conceited?” And those are just off the top of my head. Give me a few moments, and I could come up with an endless supply of unflattering descriptors.

“No.” Her lips quirk and her eyes soften. “That’s not what I was going to say.”

“Huh.” I give her a puzzled expression. “I thought it was.”

“What I was going to say,” she repeats, ignoring me, “is that Carter comes across as a guy who’s self-assured, but—”

“You know that’s just another word for cocky, right?”

This time, she gives me a flat look. One that tells me I’ve pushed her far enough. I promptly button my lip and allow her to continue without further interruption.

“Sometimes people feel the need to put up a front to cover what’s really going on inside.”

I frown at her vague explanation of the situation. Is she suggesting that Carter has reasons for acting the way he does? Reasons that have nothing to do with being an asshole?

“Have you ever considered that the Carter you’ve gotten to know isn’t really who he is?”

“Not even for a moment.” I huff and shake my head. “Carter is exactly the annoying guy I’ve always pegged him to be. In the years that I’ve known him, he hasn’t proved me wrong once.”

She slides around the counter, looking over the bowls and platters and adding a few finishing touches along the way. “You know, Daze, sometimes we only see what we want to. We don’t take the time to scratch beneath the surface or dig deeper. Sometimes you just need to be patient and give people time to reveal who they really are.” She gives me another penetrating look, one that makes me wilt under its intensity. “Can you honestly say you’ve done that?”

Instead of answering, I shrug. I’ve given Carter enough chances to prove that he’s not a jerk and he hasn’t.

This fondness Aunt Marnie has for Carter is seriously messed up. He may have her hoodwinked, but he’s not fooling me. I love my aunt and am usually quick to follow her advice. But on this particular subject?

Uh-uh.

“Just give him another chance,” she urges, her hazel eyes on me. “It can’t hurt, can it?”

Actually, it can. But I’m not going to argue. “I don’t know,” I mutter, glancing out the window. My eyes arrow to him like a heat-seeking missile.

Electricity slices through me when I realize he’s staring right back at me.