Bossy Bastard: A Hero Club Novel

by J. L. Perry

  “Do you have any plans tonight, Em?” The words are out of my mouth before I have a chance to think them through.

  “Not really, why?”

  “I have a dinner to attend, will you come with me?”

  “A dinner, what type of dinner?”

  “Just a dinner. You know where you sit down and eat a meal,” I say, chuckling.

  “Ha ha.” She bumps her shoulder with mine.

  “Come, it’ll be fun.” I’m lying through my teeth—dinner at my parents’ place is anything but fun. I don’t have the heart to tell her exactly where it is or who we’ll be dining with. She may not agree if she knows. We’re not even a couple, so it’s way too soon to do the whole meet-the-family thing, but I need her there.

  “You mean like a date?” she asks.

  Yes, a date.

  “A non-date. Just two friends sharing a meal.”

  I never take women home. Anastasia was the first and last. My mother took an instant disliking to her, which in hindsight said so much. My mother’s a lot of things, but the hateful type isn’t one of them. She somehow saw something in Anastasia that I wasn’t privy to. If only I’d listened, I could’ve saved myself a lot of heartache.

  “Do I have to dress up?”

  “No, nothing fancy. It’s not black tie or anything like that.” Although my parents do the whole let’s-dress-up-for-dinner-at-home thing. It’s ridiculous. “Just wear something nice.” I’m certain she’ll look beautiful in anything.

  “Umm… I don’t know if it’s a good idea.”

  “Stop overthinking it. It’s just dinner.” Turning up with her may help get my mother off my back, for the interim, anyway, but that’s not why I asked her. I’m happier when I’m around Emma. She has a way of making me feel normal again.

  “Okay, I’ll come, but on one condition.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You let me pay for my own meal.”

  “Fine.” I’m only agreeing because neither of us will be paying for our meal tonight. My mother will have a coronary if Emma asks her how much her share of dinner is. I inwardly chuckle at the thought.

  My grip on her hand tightens as we start walking again. I’m suddenly no longer dreading my evening. Having Emma with me will make it bearable, and hopefully enough to keep Willow’s googly-eyes in her head where they firmly belong.

  When we finally reach her car, my agitation is gone. In a few short hours, I’ll get to see her again. I only hope not disclosing our destination beforehand doesn’t backfire in my face.

  My gut tells me she’s not going to be happy, but the selfish part of me pushes those thoughts to the back of mind.

  Chapter Fourteen

  EMMA

  Sighing, I slip into another dress. I shouldn’t have agreed to this. After this morning, I’ve been feeling all kinds of messed up. Ashton somehow managed to get me to open up, without even probing. Carla is the only living soul I’ve told that story to, and it wasn’t in the same detail. Even when I hit my absolute rock bottom, I only shared snippets of that night and the aftermath with my father and my therapist. Some of the memories are just too hard to relive.

  “How does this one look?” I ask Carla as she lays on my bed watching me change for the umpteenth time. Usually, when I go out, I don’t give my outfits a second thought.

  But he’s not Carla.

  It’s Ashton Barclay—also known as sex on a stick.

  “It looks just as good as your last six,” she replies, rolling her eyes. “Although I did like the last one better.”

  Ashton’s not picking me up until five thirty, so I have a few hours for primping—exfoliate, trim, shave, and moisturize. Not that tonight is going to be anything more than dinner between two friends, but I still plan to do the whole routine.

  Lifting the dress in question, I hold it up in front of me. It’s a pastel floral print with large pink hibiscus flowers taking up most of the design. The long-sleeved A-line, wraparound maxi dress stops mid-thigh, tying at the side to taper in my waist. The low neckline shows off a hint of cleavage—it’s feminine with a dash of sexy.

  “Yep, I think your right, Car. I’m going to go with this one. I can wear my pink wedged heels with it.”

  “Finally,” she says, rising from the bed. “For a guy you claim not to like, you’re going to an awful lot of trouble to look nice for him.”

  Bitch.

  “Whatever.”

  She laughs as she walks toward the door. “You should totally fuck him tonight.”

  “Not happening.”

  “Of course, it’s not.” She gives me a knowing look as she pauses in the doorway. “Text me when you get out of the shower, and I’ll come back and do your hair and makeup.”

  “Okay. Thanks.”

  I grab my pink lace bra and some clean cotton underwear from my drawer—they have tiny cupcakes with sprinkles on them. What I lack on the bottom half, I make up for on the top. All my bras are pretty, and even sexy.

  As I’m heading toward the bathroom, my phone dings.

  Dumping my things on the basin, I head to the kitchen to retrieve my phone from where it’s charging. I immediately smile when I see the message is from Ashton.

  My ridiculously hot friend: What color clothing are you wearing tonight, sweet-thing?

  That’s a random question to ask.

  Sweet-thing: Why? You’re not thinking of matching, are you? Because that would be weird.

  My ridiculously hot friend: Hardly! I’m just curious.

  Sweet-thing: I haven’t decided what I’m wearing yet.

  It’s a lie, but I don’t want him to think I’m eager for our non-date.

  My ridiculously hot friend: Come on, Em. You’re a girl, and girls seem to know this shit days in advance.

  Sweet-thing: Considering you only asked me out to dinner a few hours ago, that’s kind of impossible, wouldn’t you say?

  My ridiculously hot friend: True. But can you at least give me an idea?

  Sweet-thing: Ugh. Something pinkish.

  My ridiculously hot friend: Something pinkish it is. I’m looking forward to seeing you tonight.

  I’m looking forward to seeing him too.

  Sweet-thing: I’ll be ready when you get here.

  Why can’t I just say what I truly feel?

  I’ve spent so many years guarding my heart, I don’t know any other way.

  I’m a bundle of nerves by the time five thirty rolls around. When the knock on the door comes, I take a quick stock of myself in the mirror before answering. Carla did a great job prettying me up. My long hair is down, the soft curls cascading over my shoulders. My makeup is light, and the pink lipstick matches my shoes. I hope Ashton likes what I’m wearing.

  My hands smooth over the soft silky fabric of my dress before I grab the pink clutch Carla lent me. Once I shove my phone, lipstick, and some money inside, I head toward the door.

  The butterflies in my stomach take flight as my trembling hand reaches for the handle. It’s been a long time since I’ve been out with a man—or anything that slightly resembles a date—yet, I can’t remember ever feeling so jittery.

  Ashton’s sparkling sapphire blue eyes lock with mine the moment I open the door. My breath catches in my throat as a sexy smile curves onto his gorgeous face. His gaze travels down the length of my body, taking in my appearance. “Em,” he breathes as his attention lingers on my bare legs.

  “Does this look okay?”

  His eyes snap back to mine. “You look beautiful… really beautiful. Good enough to eat.”

  My stomach does a flip-flop at his words. “Thank you. You look nice, too.”

  Ashton’s dressed smart, yet casual, in white designer jeans and a button-down top that fits snuggly against his broad chest. It’s paired with a light blue blazer, which makes his eyes pop. He looks like he’s just stepped off a runway.

  I resist the urge to lick my lips.

  He looks good enough to eat too.

  Stepping for
ward, he invades my personal space. The delicious scent of his expensive cologne envelops me.

  My body ignites when his lips lightly brush with mine. “This is for you,” he says as he withdraws back a step, bringing his hand around from behind him.

  I suck in a huge gulp of air when my eyes lock on the small clear box resting in his palm. “Oh my God, Ashton.” Tears sting my eyes. He’s brought me a corsage. Because Kyle Sanders didn’t think enough of me to do the same. “I—”

  His finger comes up to rest against my mouth. “You deserve all the pretty things, Em.”

  “It’s beautiful… I… I’m so touched.”

  “You don’t have to wear it, just know the sentiment is there.”

  “No, I want to wear it,” I say, extending my arm out in front of me. “It’s the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me. And the first time anyone has given me flowers.”

  “It’s a first for me, too,” he says, chuckling. “I’ve never bought flowers for a woman before. That’s if you discount the ones my assistant sends my mother every year on her birthday.” The fact that I’m the first woman outside of his mother to get flowers from him pleases me. A lot. “These, though, I picked out myself. You deserve all the pretty things, Em.”

  Oh, my heart.

  Ashton opens the clear container and removes the delicate pink bouquet, placing it around my wrist and tying the satin ribbon. When he’s done, he brings my hand toward his mouth, pressing a soft kiss on my knuckles.

  This is why he wanted to know what color I was wearing.

  He put thought into it.

  “I love it,” I say, turning my hand from side to side, admiring the pretty flowers that now adorn my wrist.

  His smile is bright as I step forward, wrapping my arms around him. It’s just a brief exchange, but electrifying nevertheless. “Thank you for being so thoughtful. It means so much.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “So, where are we heading?” I ask as we drive south along the Pacific Coast Highway.

  “Rancho Palos Verdes. My parents have an estate there.”

  I gasp. “Your parents?”

  “Yes.” Ashton’s eyes briefly leave the road, meeting mine.

  “We’re dining with your parents?”

  “Yes, sweet-thing. I didn’t mention that?”

  “No, no you didn’t.” I would’ve remembered if he had.

  My brow furrows when I see a smile tug at his lips. “My bad.”

  “Oh my God…” I reach out, punching his arm.

  “Ouch, Em. What was that for?”

  “You deliberately left that part out, didn’t you?”

  “Maybe,” he replies, chuckling.

  “I can’t believe you. And I was starting to think underneath all that arrogance was a nice guy.”

  “Emma,” he says, reaching across the center console, taking my hand in his. “I’m a nice guy.”

  I roll my eyes. “No, you’re not.”

  “Would you have come if I told you where we were going?”

  “No.”

  “Hence, why I may have forgotten to mention that part.”

  I shake my head. “Why would you want me to meet your parents? It’s not like we’re dating.”

  He shrugs. “We’re friends. Gray’s met my parents… many times.”

  “That’s different. You’ve known him a lot longer… we’ve been friends for five minutes.”

  “It’s been more than five minutes, Emma,” he says with annoyance in his voice. “I bet you’ve met Carla’s parents.”

  “Actually, I haven’t. Her parents are assholes. She doesn’t even speak to them.”

  “That’s a shame. Has she met your dad?”

  “Maybe.”

  His smug smile grows wider. “See… friends meet parents. No big deal.”

  “It’s a big deal to me. You should’ve told me.”

  “I’m telling you now.” When we’re only minutes from our destination. “When do I get to meet your dad, Em.”

  “Never.”

  “Never’s an awfully long time.”

  “Who else is going to be there?”

  “The Hendersons, they’re old family friends.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Yes. Harold, Maribelle, and… umm… Willow.” His jaw ticks when he mentions the last name.

  “Who’s Willow?”

  “Their daughter.”

  “No… who’s Willow to you? I saw your body language change when you mentioned her.”

  He sighs. “Someone my mother is trying to set me up with.”

  “Ah,” I say. “The plot thickens.” I can’t deny his confession stings.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Ashton’s eyes leave the road again, landing on me.

  “You’re using me.”

  “I’d never use you, Emma.”

  “You’re only bringing me tonight as a decoy. I don’t like being taking advantage of, Ashton… or mislead. That’s a shitty thing for you to do.”

  “Em, it’s not like that.” He blows out a long breath. “Okay, maybe a part of me was hoping that having you there would get my mother off my back. But more importantly, I want you there… with me.”

  “Right,” I say, tugging my hand out of his grip.

  “It’s the truth.”

  Crossing my arms over my chest, my gaze moves to the passenger side window. Any expectations and hopes I had for tonight evaporate in an instant.

  Bastard.

  Chapter Fifteen

  ASHTON

  Emma doesn’t speak a single word for the rest of the drive. I feel like an asshole for misleading her now. She’s right, it was a shitty thing to do.

  When we reach the large black wrought iron gates, I’m completely second-guessing myself. This night is more than likely going to blow up in my face.

  Winding down my window, I punch in the code. My eyes move to Emma, who’s still staring out her window. I release a lung full of air as I wait for the gates to open. I texted my mother earlier and told her I would be bringing a guest but didn’t say who. She’s going to be shocked, but I know she’ll love Emma. How could you not?

  “I’m sorry for misleading you,” I say, placing my hand on her leg.

  Emma eyes the hand resting just above her knee before moving to my face. The sadness radiating off her hits me right in the chest. Her anger I can deal with but melancholy Emma not so much. I feel like a cad. The last thing I wanted was to hurt her. After everything she told me about her past, she must think I’m an insensitive prick to do something so underhanded. I guess I am, but I don’t want to be that type of man for her. I want to be the good guy, the one she can always count on.

  When the gates finally open, she turns her attention back to the window. “Do you want me to take you home? I can call my mother and tell her something came up.”

  “We’re here now,” is her only reply.

  I drive up the long tree-lined driveway of my parents’ vast estate. I watch Emma as we near the circular driveway situated in front of the house. Her eyes are huge. I’ve never given my family’s wealth a second thought or felt uncomfortable by it, but at this moment, that’s exactly how I’m feeling.

  She already thinks I’m a snob for insulting her about where she lives, so seeing this place—an eight-bedroom, ten-bathroom, fifteen thousand square foot home that sits on four perfectly manicured acres of land atop of the Palos Verdes Hills, with a sweeping unencumbered view of the Pacific Ocean—isn’t going to help my plight.

  My parents actually downsized when they moved here.

  I shouldn’t have brought her.

  Damn my impulsive behavior.

  “This is where your parents live?” The shock in her voice is evident.

  “Yes.” We come to a stop next to the enormous multi-teared fountain that sits in the center of the driveway. The Hendersons’ shiny new Bentley is parked in front of us.

  “Maybe you should take me home,” she says as her hands t
wist together in her lap. “I don’t belong here.”

  “That’s bullshit. You belong beside me… wherever that may be.”

  She huffs. “You’re definitely not meeting my father now.”

  “What? Why?” I ask as my brow furrows.

  “My childhood home looks like a tiny shack compared to this,” she says, waving her hand around in front of her to emphasize her point.

  “Emma.” I turn in my seat to face her, reaching for her hand. “It doesn’t matter how small your father’s home is, or how big my parents’ is for that matter. They’re just material things.”

  “We don’t belong together, Ashton. Can’t you see that? This just proves it. We’re from two different worlds.”

  “It proves nothing. We’re not from two different worlds, Emma. I believe we both live on earth.”

  “You know what I mean,” she says, rolling her eyes. “I’m not good enough for you.”

  She bows her head. “Em…” I place my fingers under her chin, drawing her face back to mine. “You don’t really believe that, do you? If anything, I’m not good enough for you.”

  “Right,” she scoffs. “You’re Mr. Fancy Pants, and I’m just… poor Emma.”

  “I don’t care how little or how much money you have. All I care about is you… as a person. I’d hope you’d afford me the same.”

  “I’d never judge you solely on your wealth.”

  “It kind of sounds like you are.”

  She sighs. “You’re right, I am. I’m sorry. It’s just… look at me.”

  “I’m looking at you… you’re beautiful.”

  “Look at how I’m dressed.”

  “Again, Em… beautiful.”