I forgo knocking, simply opening the screen door and poking my head inside. “Hello, hello,” I sing. I step into the living room.
And there’s babies. Babies everywhere.
Lexi is trying to wrestle a sock onto Baby Diana’s foot as my niece attempts to speed-crawl her way across the hardwood floor.
Walker is in the middle of the room, vigorously bouncing about with one fussy newborn in his arms.
Meanwhile, Penny rhythmically rocks her glider chair back and forth with their other twin latched to her boob.
And Iris? She’s crouched down on the floor next to Penny, taking instructions from the new mom. Diapers and burp cloths and baby socks are flying around as she frantically digs through a diaper bag.
It’s sweet, sweet chaos.
Euphoria hits me like a train. I step into the room and I don’t even know where to start.
I mindlessly drop the bag of cookies onto the coffee table. I squat down next to Baby Di. “Hi cutie! Hi!” I pinch her chubby cheek, eliciting a hiccuppy infant-giggle from her.
I sweep toward Walker and take a peek at the tiny squirmer he’s trying to soothe. The little guy is wearing a bib with the name ‘Luke Elliot Kingston’ embroidered into the pale blue fabric.
Aww. I coo and press a hand over my stomach.
My ovaries are really gonna need to chill out with all that exploding and stuff. The cuteness is too much.
I float off to Penny’s side. “How are the adorable bundles of joy?” I gush, hunching down beside the rocking chair.
Penny gazes adoringly at the baby in her arms. His bib says ‘Mayor Walker Kingston’. “Wonderful. They’re just wonderful.”
“We are, too. Thanks for asking,” Lexi sasses from across the room, still struggling with Diana and her socks.
“You, hush,” I say, shooing her away with my hand. “I see you all the time. Besides, you know I’m a sucker for kids. Babies just make me all gooey inside.” So precious. So innocent.
My sister sticks her tongue out at me, while Iris laughs.
Penny burps one child then she and Walker expertly swap newborns like baby-juggling pros. Penny pulls out her other boob without hesitation. Well, that was an eyeful. After a tiny bit of bumbling, the newborn eagerly latches on.
I inch closer to Walker and beam down at the one in his arms. “Can I hold him?” I ask the exhausted-looking new father, almost coming out of my skin with excitement.
The growly farmer frowns at me like he recognizes my face from a ‘Wanted’ poster he just saw on the grocery store bulletin board, but I flash him a grin.
“Just so you know, Mayor and I are gonna be best friends eventually so we might as well start getting to know each other now.”
Walker scowls harder.
“Oh come on!”
Silence. Dead silence.
I try again. “Just think, you’ve practically got a built-in babysitter,” I say, wiggling my eyebrows and jabbing both thumbs into my chest.
At that, he pauses, eyes narrowed on my face. “Fine.”
Carefully, the oldest Kingston brother places his new baby in my hold. I grin wider.
I knew he wouldn’t be able to turn down a free babysitter. He and Penny are still very much in the hot-for-each-other phase of their relationship and soon they’re going to need some time for themselves.
Penny smiles lovingly at a yawning Walker, who’s now busy propping her legs up on a foot stool. “Why don't you go take a nap, Big Man? The girls can help me with whatever I need. Your battery is gonna need to be fully charged to handle the middle of the night diaper changes in a few hours.”
After putting up a brief fight, the protective new dad eventually sulks and shuts himself in their bedroom at the end of the hall.
Still smiling, Penny shakes her head and speaks to us in a whisper. “I don’t think he’s slept a wink since the babies popped out. And he gets so damn cranky when he doesn’t get his beauty rest.”
Iris laughs when her cousin says that. “Jude is the. Exact. Same. Way.” She peeks into the paper bag and grabs a cookie. She hands the bag to Lexi.
“Cannon, too.” Lexi grins and rolls her eyes. She grabs a cookie before handing one to Penny.
“Must run in the family,” I mutter, carefully cradling Mayor as I lower onto the couch next to Iris. “Eli is a cranky turd, too.”
Okay. I pretty much just threw that out there without preamble. Oops.
“So, I guess you ran into Eli at the guesthouse, huh?” Penny asks with a cringe. She takes a nibble of her cookie then turns her attention back to her baby.
“Yes, he was there for breakfast this morning.” I feel a big pout on my face.
“Sorry,” my sister says, feeding a bite of her cookie to Baby Di. “I tried calling you last night to give you a heads-up, but I think your phone was off or something. It went straight to voicemail.”
My gut churns. Another oops.
Last night, I powered off my phone when I pulled out Eli’s dirty love letters. It’s super distracting when you’re mid-orgasm and get a phonecall from your sister or your parents. I’ve made it a habit to stay ahead of that by turning off my phone before I get down and dirty after dark.
“I forgot to plug it into my charger,” I lie, my cheeks hot from guilt.
I hate lying to my big sister but I can’t exactly say, “Oh right, I turned off my phone so I could jill off in peace to the smutty letters I’ve secretly been exchanging with the father of the kid I nanny for because that’s what I do on the nights when I’m not up until three in the morning digging around in his court files and trying to learn everything I can about the guy,” because that sounds kind of nutty, y’know?
Penny’s rocking chair halts. Her green eyes go wide. “He showed up at the hospital last night,” she tells me. “Straight out of jail. He shocked the hell out of us.”
“Yeah, Jude spent the whole night pacing after he got the call.” Iris nods and her blonde flyaways flutter around her face.
My sister looks concerned. “Cannon didn’t sleep, either. He was really anxious all night.”
Yup—my girls all caught ‘Kingston Fever’ at some point over the past two years. The result? Lexi, Iris and Penny have all ended up wifed-up by a different one of the Kingston brothers. Cupid is such an ironic bastard sometimes.
Lexi lowers her voice. “Any idea why he got out early? I thought he had a few more years in his sentence.”
Penny shrugs. “Apparently, it was because of overcrowding or something. They released him for good behavior.”
Well, that’s definitely a whole lot less sexy than my prison break fantasy. But much more plausible—and legal—I’ve got to admit.
“So, how’d this morning go? When you met Eli for the first time?” Penny asks, gently rotating the baby to latch him onto her other boob.
My gaze darts around the living room to avoid making eye contact with her nipple yet again. “Not the greatest,” I admit.
Despite the unpleasantness of my first interaction with Eli, I still feel this strange urge to cover for him. Although he was a complete jerk this morning, bad-talking him somehow feels like a betrayal. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’ve been lusting over the man for months and when we finally meet in person, he barely even acknowledged my presence.
Even still, I don’t want the girls to think he’s a monster. I’ve heard less than favorable comments around town about him over the time I’ve been living in Crescent Harbor.
Eli’s already the black sheep. But from everything I’ve learned about him through his letters and my snooping—er, research—into his case, I don’t think that’s fair. Something in his case doesn’t add up. I can’t shake the feeling.
Anyway, guilty or not, he’s still a person. A human, worthy of grace and respect.
“He’s ready to take his daughter home, but the Kingstons disagree on the timing,” I say, drastically downplaying the dining room blowup from this morning.
Iris and Lexi
nod, seeming to agree with Callie’s grandparents.
Penny eyes the baby in her arms. “I couldn’t handle being apart from my children. Especially for so long. I’m sure that’s been hard on him,” she says.
“What do you think, Jessa?” Iris curls her legs up on the couch and angles herself to look at me. “You’re with Callie the most. What do you think is best?”
Wow. That’s a loaded question. I shrug. “I’m not sure. It’s going to be a difficult situation for everyone either way. Selfishly though, I’m just scared I’ll lose my job working with Callie. Eli doesn’t want a nanny,” I add, failing to hide my own disappointment. “I’m about to be out of a job, guys.”
“I wouldn’t worry about that.” Lexi—who has finally conquered Baby Di and her socks—scoffs. “He’s gonna quickly realize that he needs help. Callie’s a precocious little thing.” Di grabs at the paper bag and sticks her whole arm inside before emerging with a cookie clenched in her chubby fist. My weary-looking sister manages to break the thing in half before her daughter splits her tiny face open trying to shove the huge cookie inside.
“Definitely,” Iris agrees. “He’ll have to keep you on. Especially when he starts working again.”
I exhale. “I really hope you guys are right because—sweet lord—I can’t go back to making cappuccinos for a living.”
The girls laugh. I force myself to join in.
The conversation moves on. Penny announces that Walker asked her to marry him last night and that the wedding will be in a few weeks. Excitement fills the room, especially when she asks us all to be in the wedding party. This engagement was a long time coming. Mrs. Kingston will be hosting a family dinner tomorrow night to celebrate. As happy as I am for my friend, I just can’t seem to stay focused on the conversation.
My mind drifts back to Eli at breakfast earlier. There was so much vitriol in his dark eyes when he glowered at me. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think the man was dangerous. He’s harboring so much anger. So much venom. I’m just not sure why that’s directed quite so squarely at me.
And more than anything, I wish I didn't feel such a strong pull toward him. Instead of withering and fading away, my attraction to the man only seemed to grow stronger with each tense second that ticked by in the dining room.
Maybe it's just the excitement. Maybe I like the thrill. Maybe it’s just morbid curiosity.
Maybe I’m freakin’ insane.
In any case, it’s clear Eli Kingston is no prince charming. He’s the bad guy in my version of this story, especially if he wants to keep me from doing the job I love.
5
Eli
I shift my weight back and forth, and the sounds of the creaky porch grate on my nerves.
My now-dilapidated house sits in a cove of old maple trees. Years of weathering and lack of attention have completely run down the place my little family once called home.
The floorboards that run along the porch—the porch I built with my own two hands before the wedding—are now rotted and moldy. The yard and flowerbeds are completely conquered by overgrown weeds and tree suckers.
There’s a small clearing with a view of the river. And judging by the ridges and debris in the driveway, it looks like the river has flooded at least once during my incarceration.
As if I didn’t already have enough shit working against me. Let’s just add Mother Nature’s additional fuck-you to the list.
They took my freedom. My wife. My kid. My job.
“You’re not taking the house, too!” I yell out into the emptiness around me.
The rumble of my voice reverberates in the quiet air. The dense copse of trees absorbs the sound. Thank God no one’s bulldozed any of the wooded area that fortifies my little section of the family property. Hell, I’m half-surprised my folks didn’t flatten the whole damn house while I was away. I’ve been secluded for years, but this…this is a welcome kind of seclusion.
I glance up at the decaying structure around me and the lush, thick forest fencing me off from the world. Home. I’m home.
Despite all the bubbling resentment about my circumstances, I sure am grateful to be back here.
My old cellmate, Rivers, was always encouraging me to get into gratitude, meditation, positive thinking. He was totally into all that New Age stuff. He was also into identity theft, bribery and embezzlement, mind you, so his credibility was definitely an issue. But I’ve got to admit the closing my eyes, deep-breathing and taking stock of all the things I could be thankful for did save me from more than one prison-yard scuffle.
Shaking myself out of my thoughts, I shove my key in the lock and push inside.
The front door creaks even louder than the rickety porch. That stale, empty house smell smacks me in the face immediately. The nostalgia punches me so hard, I’m surprised it doesn’t crack open my chest.
Nearly everything is untouched. Just the way I left it—if you don’t count the inch of dust covering everything the eye can see. There’s more than just some light dusting, sweeping and mopping on the agenda.
The carpet, rugs, and curtains…well, I don’t have the patience to shampoo and steam the stench out of those. I pinch the bridge of my nose.
Thankfully, someone came and threw some plastic over my furniture, so I can at least salvage that. It was probably Ma.
I doubt my brothers did a damn thing to help out around the place while I was locked up. I’m not sure why I thought Walker might send someone down to at least keep the ceiling fans going or mow the lawn in my absence. It’s like they all forgot about me when I was gone. Everyone’s lives kept on moving while I was sitting behind bars, my entire existence stuck on pause.
I hate being bitter about it but as I wander around, assessing the workload ahead of me—yet another heap of obstacles that I’ll have to tackle on my own, always on my own—it’s hard to assuage the resentment.
Feeling overwhelmed, I stalk toward the fireplace mantle, eyeballing the many knickknacks and picture frames Gabby placed up there. I spot a copy of my grandfather’s favorite book, Lessons the Successful Man Must Never Forget. Gramps gifted me with my own personal copy when I took over as CEO of Kingston Realties. I flip through the pages and come across the old man’s favorite quote.
To know who will betray you most devastatingly, look to the one you trust most ardently.
Yeah, tell me about it…
I set down the book and focus on the picture frames. There’s a photo of the three of us at the hospital when Callie was born. There’s another of the girls that I took as we walked by the river out back. There’s a few different wedding photos. My younger, clean-shaven, smiling face mocks me, pressed up against my ex’s.
Resentment builds in me until I nearly explode. I slam each and every wedding photo face down until I can’t see her deceitful face anymore. I bask in the sound of glass cracking, not caring that I’m only adding to the mess that I’ll have to clean up later.
I struggle to even put into words how I feel about my ex-wife right now. She used to be my sweetheart, my darling, my bae. Now, I can think of a few choice names for her, but Ma would probably have a fainting spell if she ever heard me utter them out loud.
After everything—after everything I sacrificed—Gabby still had the nerve to abandon our daughter. What part of ‘till death do us part was that? I would have willingly taken a bullet for that woman. What I didn't realize is that she was the one holding the gun to the back of my head.
Yes, it stings that she betrayed me, she left me, she slammed me with divorce papers instead of waiting for me like I expected her to. But it’s what she did to Callie that burns my blood.
What am I supposed to tell that sweet kid in a few years when she’s asking about her mama?
My fucking world is in shambles. All because of one selfish woman. Hell, I haven’t met a decent woman yet.
I step into my kitchen, hoping to leave some of my angst behind. There’s a giant spider web crisscrossing the light fixture above the
sink and a couple of water-stained glasses in the dish drainer, but I ignore them.
Moving over to the fridge, I brace myself. I don’t know what to expect. Creepy-crawly things slithering along the glass shelves? Strange-colored sticky stuff oozing through unsealed containers? Noxious fumes seeping from the cartons and plastic bags and three-year-old take-out containers? It’s bound to be a dystopian scene in there. Everything is well past its due date.
Holding my breath, I dare to pull the door open.
But aside from a box of baking soda deodorizer, the shelves are empty. Clean and dry. Looks like Mom cleaned that out, also.
My shoulders slump. I really was too harsh with my parents at breakfast. They’ve been taking care of my kid for years without expecting anything in return.
And how do I thank them? By yelling at them and acting like an ungrateful douchehat. I scrub a rough palm down my face. Carrying around all this bitterness is exhausting.
I didn’t always used to be this much of an asshole. My parents and I used to be close. For years, I worked every day, shoulder-to-shoulder with my Dad and Gramps in Kingston Realty Holdings, and eventually I took over as CEO. I was an upstanding member of the community. I was on the board of Crescent Harbor’s merchants’ association. Magazines used to feature me as an up and coming business leader. I used to volunteer at community organizations alongside Gabby.
But three years ago, I made decisions. Decisions that tore me away from my daughter and our home. I based those decisions on the information I had available at the time. In retrospect, some of the things I did were stupid. But dwelling on that won’t solve a thing. It’s time to pick up the pieces and move on. For Callie’s sake.
That starts with making our house liveable again.
I shove the window open to let in some of the fresh air billowing across the surface of the river. I stare out at the sprawling woods and the water beyond.
It’s not so hard to remember how beautiful this place used to be. Maybe I can make it beautiful again.
Mister Bossy (Bad Boys in Love Book 4) Page 3
