Mister Bossy (Bad Boys in Love Book 4)

by Cassie-Ann L. Miller

  His shoulders heave on a heavy exhale. “Please,” he adds on, no sincerity in the word. He makes a sweeping motion with his hand, gesturing toward his car. And there it is. That subtle hint of amusement in his eyes as he waits for me to get moving.

  I fumble for a moment longer, wanting to play the tough girl, but it quickly sets in that I have no other reasonable options and my dad really needs my help today. So, I hop to it, dropping my car hood closed, shouldering my purse and climbing into my boss’s car.

  After I reluctantly provide Eli with the address of my dad’s future repair shop, we spend the long drive to my hometown in complete silence.

  When his eyes are distracted by the road in front of us, I steal glances his way. Why does this beautiful man have to be so cruel? I have so many questions. So many things I’d like to ask about his court case. My curiosity swells like a balloon filling up with helium. But I know I can’t bring it up. To him, I know nothing. And in turn, Eli knows nothing about me. Not that he’s aware of anyway. He only knows Monica. Sexy, adventurous, desirable Monica. Not me.

  I notice the subtle way Eli tenses and grips the steering wheel tighter as we drive past the trailer park. “You grew up here?”

  “Yeah,” I say sheepishly. A flush sprints up my neck to my cheeks.

  “Hmm.” He doesn’t comment further on the hellhole but he looks…surprised.

  I sit next to him, trying to take up as little space as possible, silently reminding myself that in just a few minutes he’ll drop me off and go about his business and I’ll finally be able to take a breath.

  When we pull up outside my father’s new store, I utter a quick “Thank you,” and scramble out the passenger door to meet up with my parents where they’re standing in front of the building, analyzing the brick facade. That was the longest, most tense hour of my life, and I’ll definitely be finding alternate transportation for the drive home tomorrow.

  Instead of immediately peeling off like I expect him to, Eli shocks the hell right out of me. His car door flies open and he steps out. Then, he’s rounding the car, climbing the curb and introducing himself to my parents.

  “Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Robson? Eli Kingston, Jessa’s boss. Nice piece of real estate you have here.”

  My lips twist to the side. What on Earth is he doing?

  My wide-eyed mother beams at me over Eli’s shoulder, shooting a discreet thumbs-up my way. “So handsome,” she mouths, while Eli is busy shaking Dad’s hand. Now the men are talking zoning laws and square footage.

  Oh, God. What is happening?

  I stand on the sidewalk, eyes darting back and forth, awkwardly waiting for my boss to leave. Only he doesn't. He and my Dad are laughing and chatting like long-lost bros while Mom is melting into a swoony pile of cartoon-hearts, costume jewelry and hairspray on the side of the road.

  Charming, friendly, nice. Who the heck is this version of Eli Kingston? I thought I had met them all.

  The man shields the sun from his gorgeous eyes, gazing up at the crumbling brick building in front of us. My jaw lands on the concrete when he squares his shoulders, pushes back his sleeves and asks, “So, where do we start?”

  23

  Eli

  It’s well into the evening when I say my goodbyes to the Robsons. They’re one quirky couple, but they both seem nice and down-to-earth. I’m not sure I understood half the things Douglas rambled about his electronic repairs, but he seems like a smart man, so I respect that.

  It definitely was not the day I’d expected when I was awoken by Jessa’s deafening rust bucket this morning, but seeing what we accomplished at her dad’s soon-to-open shop, it feels really satisfying. It made me feel purposeful.

  The Robson’s locked up the building and took off in their two-seater pickup truck just a few minutes ago, leaving Jessa and me to follow behind them. Mrs. Robson invited me over for a home cooked meal tonight, but I need to get back to Crescent Harbor and pick up Callie from my parents’ house. Jessa is still off work the rest of the night and tomorrow. In the meantime, I’m looking forward to a little alone time to bond with my daughter. I just hope she doesn’t have any meltdowns while the nanny is away.

  The plan for right now is that I’ll drop the woman off at her parents’ place and she’ll find a ride back to Crescent Harbor tomorrow. Maybe I’ll take a peak at her car and see if I can figure out what’s wrong while she’s gone.

  As we walk side by side toward my car, I drop my attention to my phone. I have another missed call from Jude and a text message inviting me to grab a couple beers with him at the bar. I’ll text him some excuse later, when my whole body isn’t on edge from being in proximity to Jessa.

  The energy between us has been charged all day. I liked the way she looked at me as I worked alongside her father, the way she blushed when her mother spilled her most embarrassing childhood stories.

  Distractedly, I rotate my shoulder, moving around the bones and sockets and whatever else is going on in there. I think I may have pulled something while helping Mr. Robson lift a particularly heavy box of machine parts.

  “You okay?” Jessa speaks softly, looking at me from beneath her lashes.

  Immediately, I drop my shoulder and straighten my back. “Yeah, I’m good.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yes. I’m sure, woman.”

  I know it’s dumb, trying to play off my pain when it hurts like a son-of-a-bitch, but when she looks at me like that, there’s no way I want to come off as weak. I want her to look at me like a man. Strong and infallible.

  She doesn’t seem convinced, though. But she doesn’t get the chance to question me further because as we step off the curb, headed to my car, someone calls out Jessa’s name. We both turn around to find a preppy, somewhat gangly guy on the sidewalk headed straight for us.

  “Michael!” she exclaims, eyes widening before she rushes over to hug the man. She wears the brightest smile.

  I don’t like it.

  When they slip apart, he pulls off his gold-rimmed sunglasses and glides them into his breast pocket. His eyes move up and down her body with an approving glint. “You look so good, Jessa.” He licks his lips. "What are you up to these days?"

  His emphasis on how great she looks makes my blood crawl.

  Standing a little taller, I stride forward, eyes narrowed on the stranger who’s checking out my nanny. I stop right at Jessa’s side. “Oh, this is my boss, Eli,” she tells the douchebag. She glances at me, “And this is Michael, my, uh, well…We used to date.”

  I force a small nod in his direction, but the ex in the three-piece suit pays me no mind. He thrusts his arm forward, absently shaking my hand while his gaze stays on Jessa. The way the asshole’s eyes slide over her body tells me he just deemed her single and available. I’m no longer the threat. I’m just the boss.

  “I’m babysitting Eli’s daughter at the moment, while I wait for a kindergarten teaching opening,” she goes on to tell him, and I don’t like that, either. What the hell? She’s looking for another job? How come I didn’t know this?

  Michael reaches into his pocket and hands over a crisp business card, letting his hand linger against her fingers. “Give me a call sometime, Jessie Babe.” He wipes his nose with his fist. “I can help you find your teaching job. And anything else you need,” he adds, his lips curving into a smirk. One that I’d like to punch off his pretentious little face.

  Jessa clutches the card, smiling sweetly as she always does. But I don’t miss the way she takes a half-step closer to me. For protection? “Michael’s a headhunter. A recruiter,” she says as she looks up at me, obviously feeling the need to explain his behavior.

  My jaw clenches. The asshole seems to be recruiting for more than just gainful employment, if you ask me. And that pisses me off to no end.

  The guy grins at me and starts babbling, clearly pleased with himself. “I only work with the top employers in the state. Top dollar, man. I love to spread that around, too. I don’t mind giving you the
friends and family discount.” He pauses to give Jessa a wink.

  Is this fucker for real?

  The fast-talker drones on. “Hey, where do you work at, Eli? Are you satisfied with your salary? Open to a change? I could definitely help you out.”

  I lift a brow, struggling to hide my amusement. I used to run a multi-million dollar corporation and eat whiney headhunters like this for breakfast. This kid thinks he can help me? “Doubt it,” I bite out.

  Michael grins and puffs out his little chest. “Oh, I work in all of the big midwest industries out there. I know I’ve got you covered, man. What are you in? Construction? Retail?”

  Boy, what a prick. What the hell did Jessa see in this kid?

  A huff of laughter escapes my lips. “I was just released from federal prison a couple weeks ago. You got a program for ex-convicts?”

  At first he seems to think I’m just bullshitting him. But as his nervous eyes flicker over my tattoos and my stony expression, he finally catches up. The way the loser’s face falls is priceless. His grin drops and his skin turns ghostly in a heartbeat. I smirk.

  He fumbles around for a few moments, clearly unsure of how to respond. Then his shaky hand comes forward as he hands me another one of his business cards. “I don’t discriminate. M-my business card. In case you ever need help finding work,” Michael offers, not quite as confident as before, but still trying to redeem himself.

  I grab the card and shove it into my front pocket. “Yeah, I’ll keep you in mind.” My attention turns to Jessa. “We should get going.”

  I place my hand at the small of her back. I let my fingers spread out, touching as much of her warmth as I can reach. I don’t miss the way she shivers at my touch. I have to deliberately remind my overeager cock that it’s not an invitation to get all worked up. She said it herself—we’re attracted to each other. It’s a biological reaction. Nothing more. And it definitely isn’t something we have to act on.

  I direct her toward the passenger door and open it for her, standing protectively between Jessa and her slimy ex.

  Michael calls out an awkward goodbye. “Remember to call me, Jessie Babe.” He rubs his nose and sniffles.

  She promises nothing, giving him a weak wave with a distracted smile.

  After shutting her door, I level the man with a death glare that causes him to skitter off down the sidewalk. Then I climb into my car and take off, doing my best to keep my eyes off the beautiful girl by my side.

  24

  Eli

  Jude shows up in my front yard bright and early and unannounced.

  “You could have called,” I say as I’m dragging my trashcans to the curb. The garbage truck will pass by in the next hour or so.

  “And you could have not answered. Like you did the last half dozen times I called you.” I hear the smirk in my youngest brother’s voice as he follows me up the driveway.

  “I’ve been busy.” I stand on the porch and adopt a defensive posture in front of the door, feet shoulder-width apart, arms folded across my chest. I’m really not in the mood for guests this early in the day.

  With a shrug, Jude elbows his way past me and pushes through the screen door. “Well, now I’m here. Deal with it.”

  Goddamn—I’d forgotten how persistent my youngest brother can be. Frigging pest.

  And what is it with all my family members just popping up here whenever they want? I mentally add install electric fence to my to-do list.

  “Uncle Jude!” Callie shrieks. She jumps up from the couch, her cartoons long forgotten as she runs to him. “Where were you? I haven’t seen you in a long, long time,” she complains.

  “I was off playing football,” my brother tells her.

  Callie nods slowly and approvingly. “Oh, you were playing football, huh? Are you gonna be on TV again? Can we watch sports TV? Let’s watch sports TV and find out.”

  Jude chuckles and drops onto my sofa. He grabs the remote and flips to the Sports Broadcast Network. “Yeah, let’s turn on sports TV and find out.” Callie plops down beside him.

  I’m trying to be annoyed but I end up dropping my head and shaking it as I travel into the kitchen to wash my hands. I may be resentful toward my brothers but I do appreciate that they each took the time to cultivate a relationship with my kid when I was gone. It feels good to know that she had a whole band of people looking out for her in my absence.

  When I come back in a few minutes later with some water bottles for all of us, my daughter and her uncle are engaged in an epic round of smack-talking as they watch football highlights and yell at the television.

  “Calder is overrated, man!” Jude yells at the announcers. “Sad excuse for a linebacker. He’s like an umbrella trying to fight off a tsunami!”

  “Yeah!” Callie pipes in. “He’s like an umbrella trying to fight with a nanny!”

  “Do you see those clowns?!” my brother motions toward the television. “Tell them Jude Kingston is coming for them!”

  Callie roars like a lion cub. “My uncle Jude is coming for you clowns!” She looks at me and giggles like it’s the most amusing thing ever.

  I glower at my brother from where I’m sitting in an armchair off to the side of the couch. “Is this what you came here for?” I ask him. “To turn my kid into a hyped-up football maniac?”

  “Daddy, me and Uncle Jude watch ball together all the time,” Callie tells me. “All the time.” She grins her little teeth at me.

  “Tell him, Cal!” He holds up a palm and she claps him with a high-five.

  I’m clearly not winning this debate so I drop into a chair and stretch out my legs as the sports highlights play. As frustrating as he is, I’m proud of Jude. I tried to watch his football games as often as I could when I was in jail. I was impressed—though I’d never admit it to the smug bastard. My brother is the best tight-end in the league. The Paragons are a solid team and they have the Super Bowl wins to prove it.

  When the show finally goes to commercial break, Jude looks at me with a grin. “Let’s talk, brother.” He motions toward the porch with his chin. Grunting, I follow him outside.

  When the screen door slams into me, I grip my shoulder and rotate it in the socket.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Jude points his water bottle toward my shoulder.

  “I think I pulled something helping Jessa’s dad at his repair shop.”

  By the way Jude’s eyebrow arrows up, I instantly regret my words. Fuck.

  “How come you were helping Jessa’s dad?” he wants to know.

  “Long story.”

  He drops down onto the porch bench. “I’ve got the whole, entire day, bro.” He grins. “Since when are you a handy man?”

  I take a seat next to him. “I got shut out of Kingston Realties. What else am I supposed to do with my days?”

  “Didn’t you just tell me you were too busy to take my phone calls and grab a beer with your youngest brother? But you have the time to drive out of town with Jessa and go do free labor at her dad’s shop?”

  I grunt. He got me there.

  Jude looks at me, clearly entertained. “You fucking like her.” He cackles. “You have the hots for the nanny. Well, I’ll be damned.”

  Yup—that electric fence is so gonna happen.

  “Can you tell me why you’re here so I can get on with my day?” I bark.

  Jude checks out my uncomfortable expression and chuckles. Then, he finally relents. “I just wanted you to know that I’m hosting Walker’s bachelor party,” he announces.

  Goddammit…

  “Good for you,” I mutter and bring my water bottle to my lips.

  “Showing up isn’t optional, Eli,” he states firmly.

  Momentarily, I close my eyes, frustrated and utterly unable to think of anything I’d like less than going to a damn bachelor party. But before I can build up my case, Jude speaks again.

  “You’ll be there, helping our brother celebrate the fact that he was finally able to find someone able to see past his horrid
farmer outfits and his bad attitude and give him her heart. You will smile and you will take tequila shots and you will laugh at all the terrible jokes and you will have a good time.”

  “I don’t know about that…”

  “Then, you’ll fake it till you make it, Eli.” He stomps. “I’ve had enough of your sulking and secluding yourself from everybody. You’re a free man, now. It’s time you start acting like it.”

  On those words of wisdom, my smartass brother gets up and pokes his head into the house and says goodbye to his niece. Then he jumps into his convertible and takes off, leaving me with a whole lot to think about.

  Callie is quiet for the rest of the morning while I spend some time tinkering around under the hood of Jessa’s car. As the day goes on, my daughter becomes increasingly sluggish. She barely has the energy to participate when I offer to let her help me stain the front porch. By the time evening rolls around, she is completely depleted and closed in on herself. Dinnertime becomes a struggle.

  “Eat up, honey. I thought you liked macaroni,” I speak softly to her as we crowd around the small dinner table. We’ve been sitting here for a while, but the little girl has just been pushing her food around her tiny plate.

  “I’m not hungry. This doesn’t taste right,” Callie responds petulantly, shoving her plate away.

  Huh…? That’s not like her. Especially when it comes to mac and cheese.

  I open my mouth to scold my daughter for her less than kind comment, but I cut myself off. I learned long ago not to be offended by a child’s food preferences. One moment, mac and cheese is their favorite thing in the world. The next, all they want is chicken nuggets.

  “It’s fine.” I lean back in my chair and observe the child’s lethargic movements. “Are you feeling all right?” I hold the back of my hand up to her cheek.

  She’s warm. She’s definitely a bit warm. “I don’t feel too good…” she murmurs and curls in on herself.

  I think back to what my mom used to do when one of us would start coming down with something. “Come on, kiddo. Let’s get you in the bath.”