Mister Bossy (Bad Boys in Love Book 4)

by Cassie-Ann L. Miller

  A ringing phone cracks through the silence of the room, startling me. It takes me a second to realize that the sound is coming from the ancient device buried in my back pocket. The prison guards handed it back to me in a sealed envelope, along with my keys and wallet, when I was released. I’m shocked to realize that this piece of crap can still receive calls. I figured it’d be completely outdated by now.

  By the time I manage to fish it out of my pocket, the ringing has stopped. I glance at the screen of my phone and realize that the call came through on WhatsApp. All the buildings on the family property are on the same wifi network so I’m guessing the phone must have automatically connected.

  A notification pops up, alerting me that I just received an audio recording from my mother. I hesitate a second and draw in a deep breath before hitting play on the file.

  Mom’s tender, soothing voice pours through the speakers. “Eli, dear, I know that things didn’t go too smoothly this morning at breakfast but we really do need to finish our conversation. I’m cooking a family dinner tomorrow night. Six o’clock.” She pauses. “I know that you’re angry. And we have a lot to work through as a family. But please tell me you’ll be there. Your father and I would really like to see you again.”

  Apprehension tenses the back of my neck. After the way breakfast went, sitting around the dinner table for another meal with my family is the last thing I want right now.

  My brothers are winning at this ‘life’ thing. They’ve all settled down with good women. Walker runs the most successful farm in the area. Jude is a star tight-end for the best pro football team in the league. As for Cannon, he’s a freaking billionaire.

  And then, there’s me. I’m the family disappointment. The convict. The one who fell from grace in the most spectacular way. The one no one trusts.

  There’s no way I’m subjecting myself to family dinner.

  Powering off the phone, I pause in front of my bedroom. It was right inside that sterile, lifeless room that my marriage first started to crumble. My foot connects with my bedroom door, kicking it hard against the wall. Too many bad memories in there. I’m not ready to face them yet.

  I turn and travel down the hall, feeling the weight of my past thirty-four years bearing down on me. I growl. It physically pains me to count the years, months, and days since I’ve sunk into the slick, tight warmth of a woman. Hot anger needles my chest when I remember how Gabby used to employ sex as a tool. A weapon to punish me when I didn’t meet her expectations. A reward to compensate me for bending to her will. A hacksaw to disconnect my brain from common sense, allowing her to carry out her manipulation.

  Despite my current animosity toward the whole female gender, I want sex. I need it.

  The nanny’s face flicks into my memory. That pixie of a woman, with those large doe eyes and that dark hair long enough to wrap around my fist at least three, maybe four times. She is fucking sexy. This morning, I made a sincere effort to ignore the way her athletic body looked in that candy-pink dress but my cock sure took notice.

  She’s probably just another female who’s out to castrate me, though. No, thank you.

  All women are rotten. Liars. Cheats. All of them.

  But then, there’s the woman who wrote to me in prison. Monica. She floods my mind. Christ, how that woman teased me. With just her written words, no less.

  Maybe she wouldn’t try to chop off my balls at her first opportunity. Maybe she might actually care. She has no idea how many cold nights she got me through, how many nights I fisted one of her naughty letters while fisting myself with the other hand.

  I didn’t get the chance to write to her when my lawyer told me I was getting out. Maybe I should drop her a line, let her know that I’m out, pass along my home address.

  What the hell are you thinking, dumbass?!

  Getting laid should be the least of my priorities. Callie is my number one concern from here on out.

  My baby girl is terrified of me. It shows in every tentative word that leaves her little mouth. I’ve got to fix my relationship with my daughter before I can even consider patching the other areas of my life back together. Because without her? Nothing else matters.

  I step into Callie's old bedroom, my heart beating in fast, nervous thumps.

  With clammy hands, I push her tiny toddler bed away from the dingy walls and unscrew a rusty old vent behind the headboard. Paranoid as ever, I throw a quick glance behind me. Then I pull the grate off and shove my hand deep into the hole in the wall, hoping my fingers don’t make a quick snack for the rodents that might well have taken up residence in there. I breathe a sigh of relief when my fingertips connect with nothing but polyester. I yank out a dusty duffle bag.

  When my old gym bag is safely on the floor in front of me, I unzip it and breathe a heavy sigh of relief. A tiny bit of that weight comes off my shoulders.

  I had a feeling I might need a backup plan. I was right.

  I thumb through the many, many stacks, mentally counting the cash I hid before being arrested.

  My ass hits the floor and I drop my skull against the wall. I run a palm down my face in relief and clutch the bag to my side. It’s all here. Thank fuck. It’s all here.

  6

  Eli

  I barge into my family’s inn, determination and grit in each step. I’m exhausted from scrubbing every inch of my house over the past two days but I hold my head high.

  Today is the day.

  I’ve waited long enough, and it’s past due time for Callie to come home with her father.

  I spent all of yesterday and this morning throwing out all the old rugs and shit that couldn’t be salvaged. I put extra care into fixing up my daughter’s bedroom, purchasing her a larger, more age-appropriate bed. I even sprung for new bedding adorned with the same cartoon character I noticed on her pajamas the other day. She’s going to like it. I hope.

  A deep, earthy aroma fills the hallway. It makes my nostrils tingle and my mouth water. I find my mother at the stove, sprinkling herbs into the bubbling pot that my dad is stirring.

  Her eyes beam when she sees me stepping into the kitchen. “Oh, good. Eli, you’re here. You’re a bit early but the food is almost ready and your brothers should be getting here soon. I’m trying my hand at chicken curry. You like chicken curry, right?”

  Fuck. The family dinner. That’s tonight.

  Now, I feel even more urgency to get this over with.

  “Where’s Callie?” My voice comes out harsher than intended. I lower my tone, attempting to sound friendly when I continue. “I’m here to pick her up.”

  “W-what?” Ma stammers. “Now? Today?”

  The tinny sound of laughter filters through the closed windows. A quick glance out the spotless slider glass above the sink answers my question. I see the nanny darting around the endless yard as Callie chases after her with a toy wand. The sight of my little girl grinning and playing sends a ripple through my chest. I need to take her home.

  Dad shoots a stern look my way. “I thought we came to an agreement on this, son.”

  “No,” I state, my words firm and slow to be sure I make myself clear. “You guys made your demands, and I disagreed.”

  “That’s not how this family works,” my father argues, raising his voice. “This is something we need to sit down and discuss. Rationally.”

  Shaking my head, I hold my ground. “I’ve tried that. The time for talking is over. Callie needs to start getting comfortable in her own home, and you guys are just delaying the inevitable. For your own selfish reasons.”

  My mother drops down onto the nearest stool, fanning her face and mumbling to herself. “She hasn’t even had dinner yet. What will she even eat?”

  My blunt fingertips scrape the back of my neck. “I think I can handle meal time, Ma,” I mutter. “I was on kitchen duty in jail, stirring up potato flakes for a thousand inmates. I think I can handle cooking for two.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Jude entering the kitchen, a sm
itten-faced blonde crazy-glued to his side. Iris Merlini. She hasn’t changed very much since I last saw her. Only difference is now she’s on my brother’s arm and she looks over-the-moon happy.

  Jude approaches cautiously. The smile drops from my youngest brother’s face. “Hey guys. What’s going on…?” He warily sets down a bottle of wine on the counter.

  Overdramatic as always, my mom fans her cheeks and sniffles. Like I’m taking Callie halfway around the world instead of a five-minute walk away. She’s uttering a stream of worried little mumbles. It seems like she’s talking to herself, so I don’t bother with answering.

  “Hey now,” Dad drapes an arm around his wife’s back. “You don’t understand what we’re going through. We've been raising her all this time, so you need to see how hard this is for us, too. How hard it’s going to be on your mom.”

  I sigh, reaching out to robotically pat Mom on the back. I don’t want to be a dick about this and the last thing I want is to see Ma hurt. Because my family knows as well as I do—if they hadn’t stepped in, Callie may well have ended up in the system when Gabby skipped town. The thought makes my stomach clench.

  “Ma, listen,” I try a softer approach to reason with her. I crouch in front of her. “I’m not taking her away. I know you guys have gotten close, and I’m not going to come in the way of that. I just need to rebuild my family, and Callie is it for me.” My heart tightens when I say that, when I admit that the third piece of our family puzzle is gone. Gabby is gone. She left and never looked back. Now, I’m in this on my own. I’m a single dad.

  I can’t fuck this up, dammit.

  Rising to my feet, I reclaim my full height, standing like a man, like the father Callie needs me to be. Ma lifts her head, wiping her nose on the back of her arm. Her teary eyes meet my hard stare. “I know. I know you love her, Eli. It’s just that we do, too.”

  She rises off her stool, lips firm with determination. This is it. I know it. She’s going to kick my ass out, and tell me to work with the courts. But…she shocks the hell out of me, instead.

  “I’ll compromise with you, dear. You can leave here with Callie.” I suck in a breath at her words. But then she goes and ruins it. “But only if Jessa goes to live with you.”

  “What?!” My shout bounces off the walls.

  Ma carries on, defiant. “Callie has wrapped herself so tightly around that woman, I think that’s the only way to help the little girl transition through all this.”

  Jude releases his woman’s hand. “That’s not such a bad deal. All things considered. It’s a reasonable offer.”

  I glimpse outside to where Callie and the nanny are still playing together.

  The woman pauses. Her eyes dart around like she’s about to dig up a body in the yard. Then she glances at Callie and holds a finger over her pursed lips. She rummages around in her sweater’s pocket with her other hand. Grinning conspiratorially, the nanny passes my daughter a piece of candy before popping a piece into her own mouth.

  The two of them throw back their heads, giggling.

  Pure glee. Pure, innocent glee.

  Oh god…

  Jude wobbles a step closer, a slight limp in his movements. “Consider the alternative, Eli. Court battles, lawyers, social workers. We all love the kid. Let’s not allow this to get nasty.” He claps a big palm on my shoulder.

  I watch my baby girl as I consider my mother’s offer. I want to be a part of her life again. I want to be her father. I haven’t even hugged my own child in three years, because the poor thing is terrified of me. I’m a stranger. I have to fix this.

  My focus hones in on the nanny. She’s wearing a fluffy yellow sweater that looks about three sizes too big, together with leggings. Sparkly leggings covered in grinning cat faces.

  I groan inwardly and pinch my eyes closed to keep from rolling them like a high school cheerleader.

  Do I want this perky, energetic, highly annoying creature staying under my roof? Especially when I’m trying to win my daughter’s heart and her attention? Especially when I’m in this foul, dark mood? No. Hell fucking no.

  But what I want is secondary to what Callie needs.

  I remember how Callie hid behind her in my parent’s dining room. My little girl is clearly comfortable with this Jenny woman. More comfortable than she is with me. Maybe…maybe this could work.

  I don’t know if the nanny would actually agree to live with me or if my parents will be able to convince her. All I know is…she’s the key. She’s the key to fixing everything with my daughter.

  If I’ve got to move her in with me, then so be it.

  I turn to my family and my jaw is tight like stone. “Fine,” I grit out. “If that’s what it takes, fine.”

  7

  Jessa

  I would have quit right there on the spot.

  When Mrs. Kingston told me that going to live with Eli was the only way to keep my job as Callie’s nanny, I would have quit right there on the spot. Because notwithstanding my monster infatuation with the man, since the moment he showed up, he’s been nothing but a surly, intimidating jerk.

  But one look at that little girl and my heart melted. He's her father and she loves him. But he's also a stranger and she's terrified. I couldn't leave her to face that alone.

  So now, here we are, following the broad-shouldered scoundrel up a weedy, secluded pathway in the woods. I gaze back in the direction of the Kingston’s inn. I can barely see the roof through the trees. Feels like were venturing farther and farther away from safety.

  Away from chicken curry.

  My belly grumbles.

  He could have at least waited until after the family dinner to whisk us off to his lair. But the man seems hellbent on being as unpleasant as humanly possible.

  Our excursion toward Eli’s house is tension-charged. He’s silent and broody the whole time, always staying at least five feet ahead with those long, long legs. I want to break the silence, but what do you say to someone who’s intent on hating you before they’ve even gotten to know you?

  I’m dragging one of my old, cracked suitcases, while Eli effortlessly carries the other. He’s also lugging all of Callie’s stuff and, in spite of my best efforts, the sight of this big, scruffy, inked-up man toting around a pink, polka dot backpack on his giant shoulder makes me a little mushy in the tummy.

  He’s clearly trying to be a good father, so he scores brownie points for that. But outside of that minuscule territory, he’s a complete neanderthal.

  Eli in the flesh is nothing like the guy I spent all those months exchanging letters with. Eli in the flesh is hard, cold, detached. What a disappointment!

  I’ve had my head in the clouds for too long, living in the fantasy world I built in my imagination. So this situation is an overdue reality check.

  I’m inwardly cussing the growly father out when his head suddenly snaps around. His slightly panicked gaze seeks out Callie, like he needs to make sure she’s still there. He seems to think his kid could disappear into thin air at any moment.

  And as much as I try to toughen myself up against him, when he looks at his daughter with such ferocious protective desperation, it melts me down like candlewax.

  He takes an obvious breath of relief when he confirms that his child is still there. Then, his eyes shift to me and his apathy is back. The look he gives me is piercing. Destabilizing. And now I’m on the defensive again.

  Callie’s apprehension seems to be melting, though. At least for now. Before long, she’s chattering nonstop as we venture into the unknown. She points out the different wildflowers and bugs trailing the path as we go. It’s impressive. She’s so smart. She truly is a special kid. The more she talks, the more she lifts my own mood.

  I start quizzing her on the occasional animal track we come across. “What do you think that one is?” I ask, motioning to a small track with five pointy toes.

  We linger as she examines it, but I only give her a few seconds before I’m trying to move her along. We have to jo
g to try and catch up with her in-a-hurry-for-no-reason daddy. “I think it’s a bear. A baby bear who really needs to cut her fingernails,” Callie decides proudly.

  I giggle. I love her way of thinking. “Hmm. Could be,” I say thoughtfully. “But what about a big, furry raccoon?” I ask, widening my eyes with dramatic flair. “Do you think it could be from one of those?”

  Her eyes light up and she hops along the path. “Yeah! It could be from one of those!”

  “You’re both wrong,” a blunt voice cuts in. “It’s a skunk.”

  I nearly trip over my own feet at the sound of Eli’s deep, gravelly tone.

  I didn’t even realize he was listening, let alone eyeing the animal tracks along with us.

  “No way!” Callie states confidently. “I don’t think it’s a skunk.”

  Eli half-turns and eyeballs his child from over his shoulder again. “How come?”

  Callie sort of tucks herself behind me. Her chin dives down to her chest and she blinks shyly at her father. “Skunks smell bad. Really bad. And I don’t smell anything.”

  Eli doesn’t argue back. Instead, he lets his eyes linger on the girl for a second longer. I don’t miss the awe, the fascination in his face, the slight curve that flashes across his lips before he turns his attention back toward the path.

  My pulse thrums. Compassion swoops in yet again. The guy really does love his kid despite all the other personality flaws he has working against him.

  Callie hums softly to herself for the rest of the walk, and I remain quiet as I trudge alongside her, taking in my surroundings. I’ve never been down this side of the Kingston estate before and when we finally break through the thick wall of maple trunks, I’m taken aback by the breathtaking structure before us.

  “This is beautiful,” I gush as we stand at the edge of the weedy walkway, staring up at the weather-beaten Craftsman bungalow.

  Eli shoots me a quizzical glance like he thinks I’m fruitcake-level nutty.