Bossy Bastard: A Hero Club Novel

by J. L. Perry

  “Grayson’s going to have an instant boner when he sees you.”

  “You think?” There’s a huge smile on her face as she turns around to face me.

  “I can guarantee it. You like him, don’t you?”

  “What’s not to like. He’s sweet, attentive, funny, great in the sack, and he’s hung like a horse.” I laugh at her comment. “And he does this thing with his tongue—”

  “Okay, I don’t need details,” I say, holding up my hand to cut her off. She deserves happiness. “I’m just glad things are going well between you two.”

  “Me, too.”

  “I hope it continues.”

  She shrugs. “Only time will tell. I’m used to disappointment, so if it doesn’t work out, I’ll get over it. I always do. For now, I’m going to enjoy the ride, and let me tell you it’s one hell of a ride.” I laugh when she wiggles her eyebrows.

  Walking over to where I’m sitting, she leans down and kisses my cheek. “Sometimes you’ve got to take chances in life, Em… and to hell with the consequences. Throw caution to the wind. You never know what you might be missing out on if you don’t.” She gives me a knowing look, and I get the feeling her words are somewhat directed at me. “I better be going, are you sure you don’t want to come?”

  I shake my head, although a part of me wants to go so I can see him again, but that’s exactly why I can’t.

  “Gray’s going to be upset when I turn up without you… he’s probably not the only one.” She winks, and I know she’s referring to Ashton. “But I understand why you don’t want to come.”

  “I’m sorry. I hope Grayson doesn’t get upset with you.”

  “Pfff,” she says, waving it off. “I already told him you probably weren’t. He messaged me today, trying to get me to convince you, but I’m not going to force you into something you’re not comfortable with. I’ll always have your back, Em.”

  “Thanks, and I’ll always have yours.”

  “I know. I’m going to miss not having you there, though.”

  “I hope you have an amazing time, regardless.”

  “You can count on it.” She smiles as she digs in her bag for her keys before picking up the Key lime pie I made for her to take, off the countertop. “I’ll see you tomorrow, babe, and thanks for the pie.”

  “Grayson’s not picking you up?”

  “He offered, but I’d rather drive. He wants me to stay the night and you know I don’t do sleepovers. At least when I’m done with his sexy-ass body, I’ll have my vehicle to escape in.”

  I’m sitting on the sofa reading over the file of a new patient. Her name is Savanna, and she’s thirteen years old. Her family recently moved to California from Oklahoma in an attempt to get her away from her present situation. Her previous psychologist’s notes and medical records have been forwarded to me at her parents’ request.

  I met with her parents earlier today, just to touch base and get a grasp on things before I see her next week. It helps to have their insight because it can take a while for the kids to open up and trust you.

  They seemed lovely and overwhelmingly concerned about her welfare. I don’t blame them, she’s now refusing any medical treatment for her eating disorder despite the graveness of her situation. She told them she’s ready to die. I haven’t been able to get her off my mind all afternoon, and I pray I can help her.

  She’s been bullied relentlessly for the past two years about her weight. Hence, why she’s resorted to starving herself. I know firsthand that’s not the answer, a skinnier version of herself won’t make her less of a target. These kids will find something else to tease her about. Bullies are like that, they prey on the vulnerable.

  Gulping down the huge lump that’s formed in the back of my throat, I read over the notes from her previous sessions. My heart breaks for her and everything she’s had to endure thus far. Some of the cases I deal with are way too close to home for me, and this one is no exception, but that’s why I chose this profession to begin with.

  A loud knock on the door startles me. Glancing over at the clock on the microwave, I see it’s just after nine. Carla left over an hour ago—surely she’s not back already.

  Gathering the papers spread out before me, I place them back inside the folder, closing it.

  Before I get a chance to stand, the banging continues. “Jesus, hold your horses,” I mumble under my breath as I rise.

  Unlocking the door, I slide it open as far as the safety latch will allow. My stomach drops when I see who’s standing on the other side. He’s the last person I expected.

  “What brings you to this side of town?” I say in the bitchiest voice I can muster. “You’re slumming it, Barclay.”

  “I’m in no mood for your smart mouth, Emma. Get dressed.”

  “Excuse me.”

  “You heard me, I’m here to collect you.”

  “Collect me… collect me for what? I’m not going anywhere with you.”

  A cocky smile forms on his gorgeous face, and it takes everything in me not to open the door fully so I can slap it right off.

  “You’ve got five minutes to get dressed, sweet-thing, or I’ll come in there and dress you myself.”

  I gasp. “You will not.”

  “Try me,” he says.

  I close the door, sliding the latch out of its runner before swinging it wide open. Who does this guy think he is?

  “I already told Carla I wasn’t coming tonight.”

  Ashton’s gaze moves down my body, and I instinctively tug on the hem of my T-shirt, dragging it further down my legs. He has me so riled up, I’ve forgotten I am half-dressed.

  A smile tugs at his lips as his eyes snap back to mine. “And I’m telling you, you are.”

  “You can’t boss me around like that. If I don’t want to go, I won’t.” I cross my hands over my chest as I speak.

  He looks down at his watch. “Four minutes and thirty-three seconds.”

  I stand there like an errant child refusing to budge. I almost want to stomp my foot but refrain. My skin tingles with the intensity of his stare. Why does he have to be such a gorgeous bastard?

  Ashton takes a step toward me, so I retreat one of my own. I need to keep my distance. I’m weak when it comes to this man.

  “Four minutes, Emma.”

  I narrow my eyes.

  “And if you think for a moment I won’t come in and dress you myself, you’re mistaken.” He raises an eyebrow, challenging me.

  I arch one of my own as I remain unmoving.

  Our standoff continues until he finally blows out a long breath. “Please, Em,” he says, his facial expressions softening. “You don’t have to talk to me or even sit near me. I just want you there.”

  Ashton’s words hit me straight in the chest, knocking a slight crack in the newly-erected walls around my heart, ones I’ve spent the last two weeks rebuilding.

  Damn him and his sweet words.

  Huffing, I turn and storm toward my room. “Bossy, stubborn ass,” I mumble under my breath as I slam the door behind me.

  I rest my head against the wall as I fight the inner turmoil that’s raging through me.

  Carla’s words from earlier swim in my mind. “Sometimes you’ve got to take chances in life, Em… and to hell with the consequences. Throw caution to the wind. You never know what you might be missing out on if you don’t.”

  My head is telling me to barricade the door and bunker down for the night, but my heart is telling me something completely different.

  What puzzles me the most is why he’s so hell-bent on my coming?

  Chapter Nine

  ASHTON

  Leaning against the doorframe, I wait. I have no idea if she plans on coming back out, but I’m not leaving here without her. Grayson warned me earlier today that she probably wouldn’t show, and I knew he was right, especially considering she kicked me out of her house the last time I saw her.

  I tried to tell myself I didn’t give a fuck whether she came or not, but I
knew I was kidding myself. I’ve missed her, she’s all I’ve thought about. It took every ounce of strength I had to stay away, but she makes me feel things I’m uncomfortable feeling. I used that knowledge to remain firm. Unfortunately, all those logical thoughts went out the window the moment Carla waltzed through the front door alone. That’s when something inside me snapped.

  I look down at my watch. “Three minutes, sweet-thing,” I call out and chuckle to myself when I hear a frustrated growl coming from the other side of the wall.

  No woman can get ready in that short of a timeframe. Hell, even I take longer, but I will wait all damn night if I have to.

  I blow out a long breath as the minutes tick by. What are you doing, Barclay? She’s probably not even coming back out, yet I remain unmoving. Gazing down at my wrist, I see it’s nearing her deadline. Crossing the room, I come to a stop outside her closed bedroom door. I lift my hand to knock, ready to deliver my final warning when it swings open, startling me.

  She jumps back, grabbing hold of her chest. “Shit, you scared me.”

  I’m expecting her to still be dressed in the oversized T-shirt she was wearing, but my breath hitches in my throat as I take in the view in front of me. To my surprise, she’s changed in under four minutes, I might add. And fuck me if she’s not the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Her long hair is cascading over her shoulders, framing her pretty face. She’s wearing a white linen, loose-fitting ruffled dress that stops mid-thigh. The puffed sleeves hang slightly off each shoulder only highlighting her long slender neck. The bright white material glows against her bronzed skin. The dress is tapered in at the waist with a thick tan belt, the color matching perfectly with the knee-high leather boots.

  I’d love to fuck her while she’s wearing nothing but those sexy-as-fuck boots.

  “Wow,” I say, drinking her in. “Not only did you get ready in record time, you look… stunning.”

  “Thank you.” She gives me a slight smile, but the noticeable frown on her forehead tells me she doesn’t believe my words.

  “I’m serious, Emma. You look beautiful. Are you sure you don’t have a team of stylists hidden away in your bedroom?”

  She releases a small laugh while nervously tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. Is she unaware of how effortlessly beautiful she is?

  “Are you ready to go?”

  “I guess,” she says. “You’re a pushy bastard, you know.”

  Her sassy mouth turns me on.

  When she grabs her bag and locks the front door, I reach for her hand.

  Emma tugs it from my grip, making me chuckle. “What are you doing?”

  “Holding your hand,” I say, reaching for it again.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “We’re friends, Em. And friends hold hands. No big deal.”

  “No, they don’t.” She tries to pull away again, but this time I hold strong. I don’t want to let her go… she feels like my lifeline.

  “I’ve seen you hold Carla’s hand, and you’re friends.”

  “That’s different. And besides, you and I aren’t friends anymore, remember?”

  “Why?” A smile tugs at my lips, but deep down, her words sting.

  “Because you insulted my home and me. You made me feel… unworthy. Like I’m not good enough because I don’t have fancy things or a lot of money.”

  I stop walking and face her, the sadness I see in her eyes makes my chest constrict. “I’m sorry if I made you feel that way. That wasn’t my intention.” I expel all the air from my lungs. “It was more about the area you live in. Nothing else. If you lived in a cardboard box, I’d still be right here holding your hand.” And fuck me if I don’t mean every word. “Is it wrong for a person to be concerned for their friend’s safety?”

  “No, I guess not,” she says with a shrug, dipping her head.

  Placing my finger under her chin, I bring her gaze back to me. “I’m a kick-ass friend, and you know it.” I try to make light of the situation, but I still hate myself for hurting her.

  When she fights a smile, I lean in, placing a soft kiss on her forehead.

  “We’re not friends, Barclay.”

  “Yes, we are, sweet-thing.”

  “Is this where Grayson lives?” she asks when we pull up outside his beachfront property. It’s the first time we’ve spoken on the drive over. I can hear the shock in her voice, and I’m starting to rethink my decision to bring her here, especially after she told me that I made her feel unworthy. It’s like I’m rubbing our wealth in her face. I saw the look she gave me as we walked toward my Aston Martin. The first thing she asked is where my Range Rover was, and I immediately kicked myself for bringing this car. Usually, the women I’m with are impressed by luxury cars but not her.

  “Yes, this is his place.”

  “Wow,” she says, unbuckling her seatbelt. “I can see why you thought my place was a dump.”

  Reaching across the center console, I place my hand on her knee. “Your place isn’t a dump, Em.”

  “Right,” she scoffs.

  “You’ve made a nice home for yourself. You should be proud, not ashamed.” Although I’m very aware that I’m the one who made her feel that way, nobody else.

  She reaches for the door handle.

  “Hold on,” I say, exiting the car then rushing around to her side.

  I extend my hand to her, and she graciously takes it. “Such a gentleman, Mr. Barclay.” There’s a touch of sarcasm in her tone, but I let it slide.

  Things are different with her. Emma makes me want to be a better person.

  Placing my hand on the small of her back, I lead her through the house and out on to the back deck where the others are all seated.

  Carla squeals, jumping off Grayson’s lap the moment she spots her. “I can’t believe you came,” she says, pulling Emma into a crushing hug. My eyes dart to Grayson, and his gaze is fixed firmly on me. There’s a bemused smirk on his face as he raises his beer to his lips.

  Fucker.

  When I stormed out of here earlier, I didn’t tell him where I was going. He won’t let me live this one down in a hurry.

  I shove my hands into my pockets and watch on as Carla does the rounds, introducing Em to the others. Emma embraces Chance and his wife, Aubrey, when she gets to them, kissing their cheeks, and I’m again hit with a pang of jealousy.

  Why don’t I ever get one of those?

  When she reaches Grayson, she extends her hand, and I chuckle to myself. At least I’m not the only one who gets a shitty greeting. He stands, engulfing her in his arms, and I bite back a reaction.

  “I’m glad you changed your mind, Red,” he says, squeezing her.

  I know exactly what he’s doing.

  Grayson winks at me over her shoulder, and I narrow my eyes, giving him a silent warning to get his damn hands off her. He laughs as he lets her go and retakes his seat. His gaze never once wavering from mine.

  There are a few dozen people in attendance. Mostly the usual crowd—our friends, a few of our work colleagues, and a couple of Grayson’s neighbors. He holds these get-togethers often, a regular social butterfly. I was once like him.

  After the introductions, Carla seats Emma between her and Aubrey, so I wander over to the bar fridge situated at the far end of the deck, grabbing myself a beer. Removing the bottle cap, I take a long chug then lean against the railing and stare out over the ocean. It’s dark out, but the full moon illuminates the whitewash, casting a silvery glow across the water. The soothing sounds of the waves are what I love most—it calms me.

  My attention moves back to Emma, and she’s laughing at something the girls have just said. I should’ve known they’d steal her away, but at least she’s here, and for that, I’m grateful.

  The evening wears on, and my eyes have barely left Emma. She seems to be having a nice time. Although she’s snubbing me, I’ve caught her stealing the occasional glance, which gives me hope.

  I’m sitting on a stool by the barbecue whil
e Chance cooks more food. We’ve been eating all night, and I’m pretty sure nobody is hungry, but Grayson always puts on a good spread.

  “So, you and Emma, hey?” Chance says, nudging me. “What’s the story there?”

  “There’s no story.”

  “Right,” Grayson scoffs, approaching us and handing Chance another tray of seafood. “He’s got lover balls, don’t listen to him.”

  Chance tilts his head back and laughs. “Lover balls. Good one, Edwards.”

  “We’re just friends.” Although I’m not sure if we’re even that anymore.

  “Keep telling yourself that, mate. I’ve seen the way you’ve been looking at her tonight,” Chance retorts.

  “Fuck off, you two,” I grumble. “The only thing my balls are in love with is my giant fucking cock.”

  They both laugh as Chance grabs a handful of shrimp, tossing them onto the grill.

  “Throw another shrimp on the barbie, mate,” Grayson says, slinging his arm over Chance’s shoulder.

  “That’s the worse attempt at an Aussie accent I’ve ever heard,” he replies, chuckling. “You sound constipated at best.”

  “Fuck off, I did not!”

  “You so did,” I snicker.

  “That’s a stupid fucking ad,” Chance says. “We don’t even call them shrimp Down Under. They’re fucking prawns, dickhead.”

  The three of us laugh.

  Grayson turns and eyes Carla as she stands in front of the jukebox. Her hips sway from side to side as she chooses another song. “If you guys will excuse me.” He places down his beer. “I’m going to dance with my girl.”

  It doesn’t escape me that he just referred to her as my girl. She’s more than a good time to him, I can tell.

  Chance and I both watch as he walks over to her, sliding his arms around her from behind. We both cackle when he thrushes his pelvis into her ass.

  My eyes dart to a smiling Emma. There’s an adoring look on her face as she watches Grayson spin Carla around on the makeshift dance floor.

  Fuck, I love her smile.