by Willow Aster
I see the light on in Kingsley’s Auto Shop. My father has owned this place for longer than I’ve been alive and I stay in the small apartment above the shop. My dad lives two blocks away in the apartment that I grew up in.
“Why are you still here? Have you eaten?” I ask when I stroll through the door.
It smells like gasoline and Irish Spring soap, which always reminds me of my father.
“Hey, kiddo. Stop checking up on me. You have better things to do with your time,” Dad says as he slides out from beneath a car and pushes to his feet. He moves to the sink to wash his hands.
This man has been my constant. He’s been both my father and my mother. My protector. My teacher. My cheerleader. My everything.
“There she is,” Fish comes around the corner and pulls me in for a hug. “What’s up, Queenie?”
Everyone here has a nickname. Fish is my dad’s best friend, John Fisher. Everyone calls my father, King, short for Kingsley, which in turn made me Princess. At the age of seven, I demanded they stopped calling me Princess, because I didn’t like what it represented. I remember looking the definition up in the dictionary and I didn’t appreciate being called the daughter of a ruler. I much preferred being called a female ruler, and I’d marched into the auto shop and demanded a new nickname. The guys thought it was hilarious, and Queenie was born.
These men have been family to me, and they’ve each played a role in raising me, one way or another.
“Not much. Just finished up for the day. Where’s Stinky Pete and Little Joe?” I ask, as I move to sit on the stool beside my dad.
I chuckle when I look down at my black stilettos and how out of place they look against the filthy cement floor. This sums me up in a nutshell. My outside has never matched my inside. I can put on my superhero suit and play the part of a savvy attorney by day, but at night, I’m just Sam Kingsley’s little girl, and I couldn’t be prouder of that fact.
I always maintained straight A’s in school growing up, but I could also go toe-to-toe with anyone in our neighborhood. Boys or girls. I threw down a few times as a young girl growing up in the city, raised by a bunch of burly men who didn’t take any shit, and I established early on that I was not someone to be messed with. I guess you could say I was born with street smarts, which I easily mask, to this day, behind the fancy suits and five-inch heels.
“Stinky Pete left early. The old man can’t maintain these ridiculous hours that King keeps.” Pete is my godfather and he’s worked for my dad for as long as I can remember. The stinky part had been the name I picked for him because the man always smelled like parmesan cheese. My dad called it stinky cheese, so Pete became Stinky Pete. And twenty-some years later, it’s what we all call him. Little Joe is Pete’s son and is like a brother to me. He’s training to be an EMT and works for my dad part-time.
“Little Joe has a date. We razzed his ass about it all day.”
I crack up at that. If someone’s admitting to razzing, it’s been a long, hard day for Little Joe. These guys are not an easy crew, and you have to have a thick skin to fit in here. This has been the one place that I’ve always fit in just fine. I was born with thick skin, being the daughter of Sam Kingsley.
It didn’t destroy me when my mother left us, because I didn’t allow myself to fall apart. Never have and never will. My father taught me at a young age that pain is weakness leaving the body and to this day, I live by that mantra.
Dad has had a whole lot of employees come and go over the years, and he has a slew of younger guys working here now, as Kingsley’s Auto Shop is one of the oldest and largest in the city, renowned for being the best repair shop on the East Coast. I like to hang out here after work with my dad and his best friends who usually stay late to help him. Sometimes I bring my files here and work, the noise making me feel at home more than the quiet apartment upstairs.
I shoot Little Joe a quick text.
I want all the deets about the date when you get home.
He answers right away. Not going so well. She downed three shots within the first hour.
I cover my mouth to keep from laughing as I stare down at my phone screen. Little Joe is the nicest guy I know and he seems to attract some interesting women. His last serious girlfriend left town with his heart and his Ford Mustang. She robbed him blind and he never saw it coming. His heart is pure, and if I ever lay eyes on her, I’ll kick off these heels and teach her a lesson.
“Do you guys want me to go grab you some hot dogs next door? Are you hungry?”
“Thanks, Queenie. We ate already. I’m heading out.” Fish kisses the top of my head and slaps my dad on the shoulder.
I wave goodbye as I move to my feet.
“How about you? Have you had any dates lately? Whack Jack is always telling me how you catch those lawyers’ eyes over there at the firm,” Dad says, and I roll my eyes. The other best friend that rounds out the foursome my dad grew up with, and the only one who doesn’t work at Kingsley’s, is Jack, one of the partners at my firm. Jack went a different direction, hence the name Whack Jack, but they’re still just as close.
“Whack Jack needs to keep his trap shut.”
Dad chuckles. He knows I treat Jack with the utmost respect at the office, but outside of work, Jack’s family too.
“Well, is he wrong?” Dad asks.
I shake my head, struggling with this conversation. We do not talk about boys or men or any of that stuff. If my father had it his way, I’d be living in a nunnery.
“You really want to talk about my dating life?” I tease and raise a brow in challenge.
“Not particularly. But I just want to make sure you’re happy. I know Mya is with Jesse now, and I thought maybe you’d be ready to settle down too.” He wipes his hands on a towel and we both walk toward the door.
I chuckle at his crazy talk. “Coming from the man who has never settled down?”
Dad pauses before he flips the lights off. His blue eyes match my own and his face grows serious, which is out of character. Serious talks are like formal events … he avoids them.
“Listen, Em. I did settle down once. And out of that came the best gift I’ve ever been given—you. So don’t let my track record keep you from being happy.”
The theme song to The Twilight Zone plays in my head.
“Who are you and what have you done with my father?”
He cocks his head to the side. “Just a man who wants the best for his little girl. Don’t let fear hold you back, kiddo.”
He turns off the lights and I follow him outside. My heart is racing all of a sudden and I have no idea why.
“Fear does not hold me back. You know me better than that. I’m not afraid of anything.” I hold my shoulders high when we pause outside the building before I go upstairs.
“It doesn’t make you weak to admit that you’re afraid of things. It makes you weak if you avoid those things because you let fear win.” He leans over and kisses my forehead.
“I’m happy, Dad. I promise. Love you.” I unlock the outside door leading to the stairway to my apartment.
“See you tomorrow, kiddo.” His words echo in the stairwell and I push inside to my own little oasis.
Dad owns the building, so he let me do what I wanted to it before I moved in, and I’m living rent-free, so I have no complaints. I’m saving up to buy my own place someday.
I drop to sit on my cozy white couch and glance around the space. It’s contemporary, and I’m proud of the renovation I did in a short time, making it feel like home for now. Dad will rent it to someone when I move out. I think about his words, and a sharp pain lands in my chest. My father knows me better than anyone. I hate that he thinks I’m afraid of anything.
Or anyone.
Spence Taylor pops in my head and I curse his name.
I’m most definitely not afraid of that pig-headed egomaniac.
Annoyed, yes.
Afraid, never.
Chapter Three
Spence
When
I walk into Mean Mug, I’m second-guessing this idea. For one thing, I don’t know anything about this girl, and for another, this pub is sacred to the brothers and me. Okay, sacred is a bit of a stretch. But I should’ve asked to meet somewhere else just in case she’s a stage-five clinger or has stalker tendencies. She did show up at my door after all, which isn’t looking too great for her at the moment.
But then she walks in and appears to be fairly normal from a distance. I meet her at the bar and she smiles shyly up at me.
“Thanks for meeting me,” she says.
“Sure. What will you have to drink?”
Before she can answer, I’m bumped into from behind and turn around to see the tight, round backside of Emma Kingsley. Don’t ask me how I know it’s hers. She’s bending over to pick up something she dropped and is apologizing profusely as she stands up.
Until she sees that she bumped into me.
“You,” she spits.
“Seems to be our standard greeting these days,” I say, eyes narrowing on hers. “Looking for any excuse to get close to me, I see.”
She leans forward and I smell something sweet. Strawberries? Vanilla? Heaven?
“You wish you could be so lucky,” she says.
I groan and then feel a hand on my elbow, reminding me that I’m meeting someone for a drink. What was her name? Sadie? No. That’s not right.
“I’m Sophie,” she says, and I look over to see her introducing herself to Emma. Right, Sophie.
Emma grins at her and then glances at me coldly. She manages to be warmth and ice and everything spice all at once. “Hello,” she says. “I’m Emma. Emma Kingsley.”
“How do you two know each other?” Sophie asks.
And when I glance at Emma, her blue-green eyes shifting to mine, pupils dilating as the color on her cheeks turn a nice shade of rosy pink, I could swear that she’s remembering that one time we—
“We have mutual friends,” Emma says, cutting my train of thought.
And for once, she leaves it at that. No cutting barbs, no nasty looks. She waves at Allen, the bartender who’s always here, and he starts to prepare her usual—a glass of Chardonnay—while Sadie gives James, the other bartender, her order.
When Emma glances at me again, I don’t see the usual fire in her eyes. She’s almost subdued and something feels wrong about that. It’s unsettling.
“Hey, are you—” I stop myself from asking if she’s okay because, what the hell? We don’t have that kind of relationship, and I certainly don’t need to spiral down the dark Emma train while I’m getting a drink with Sadie.
“Have fun, you two. Nice to meet you, Sophie,” she says, lifting her wine glass to us before walking away.
Shit. Sophie, Sophie, Sophie.
I watch as Emma goes to sit down at the end of the bar next to one of the regulars, until Sophie clears her throat next to me.
“Are you guys a thing?” she asks.
“What? Me and Emma?” I snort. “No, not even close.”
She smiles and leans in. “Good.” Her tone is flirty, making it clear in no uncertain terms that she’s interested.
I smile back, thinking maybe it’s time I end this dry spell.
“So, tell me about yourself,” I say, before taking a long pull from my beer mug.
Unfortunately, the way we’re sitting allows me the perfect line of sight to Emma. Her shoulders are stiff, and my gaze travels down her long, exquisite neck as I study her profile. It’s not often that I’m in her presence and granted a moment to take her in. She’s usually hissing at me and I’m on the defense. Her skin is smooth and creamy, and my hands fist at my sides at the thought of touching her. Her beauty is intoxicating. The woman is clearly built to drive men wild with her hourglass figure and…
“Hello. Earth to Spence. Did you hear me?” Sadie asks.
“Uh, yeah, sorry. I thought I saw someone I knew. What were you saying?”
Focus, asshole.
“I was telling you that I’m a nanny by day, and I work at a sex club at night,” she says with a shrug, as if she’s discussing the weather.
I spew beer across the bar and cough to keep from choking. She laughs as she pats my back.
“Sorry. Just went down the wrong pipe.” I reach for a napkin and wipe my mouth.
She shakes her head, bites down on her bottom lip, and bats her lashes. I don’t miss the way she squeezes her tits between her arms, allowing them to practically spill out of her low-cut top and land on the table as her gaze locks with mine. The woman is a pro at the game of seduction, and clearly she knows exactly what she’s doing. Playing the shy, sweet card and then unleashing her inner vixen.
Game on, girl.
I’m rarely flustered by the opposite sex. But having Emma sitting just a few feet away while having this awkward conversation with a woman I’m fairly certain is determined to find her way into my bed—it’s got me all sorts of uncomfortable. And not in the best way.
“People are always surprised to hear that I take care of twin girls as my day job and work at The Black Hole at night. I guess you could say I’d be the perfect girl to marry. I can French braid hair, make a killer omelet, and then tie you up and whip your ass at night.” She pauses to lick her lips dramatically and then her hand flies up in front of my face. “You may just want to put a ring on it, Mister.”
What the actual fuck is happening?
This may just be the most interesting date I’ve ever been on, and I’ve had my fair share of bizarre, so that’s saying a lot.
I take another pull from my beer. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” I keep waiting for her to say she’s joking, but she just keeps staring at me with those come-fuck-me eyes.
I glance up to see a guy standing in front of Emma, as she shakes her head, obviously letting him know she isn’t interested. I notice the way she squares her shoulders and her jaw clenches. He places a hand on her arm and I’m on my feet before I can stop myself.
“Take a fucking walk, asshole.” I grip his shoulder hard. The man is much shorter than me, and I’ve easily got fifty pounds on him.
Emma slaps the guy’s hand from her arm. “I’ve got this, Spence.”
It’s the first time she’s ever called me by name and her gaze softens when she looks at me. Seeing the she-devil retract her claws always does something to me. It doesn’t happen often, but when it does, I feel like I’m king of the world. Like I’ve earned something I’ve been working for my entire life. Which makes no sense, because I can’t stand the woman.
“Easy, tiger. I didn’t know she was taken,” the drunkard slurs, and James comes around the bar and nods at me, before escorting him off.
“You okay?” I ask.
“This is not my first rodeo, and I can take care of myself.” Her mask slips back into place. The woman gives me whiplash, she’s so hot and cold.
“Didn’t look like it from where I was sitting,” I say. Her leg brushes against my thigh and my dick is instantly hard.
Not from the woman who basically just offered to tie me up and make me her bitch, but from the woman currently shooting daggers in my direction.
I might have a sickness.
I’m attracted to a woman I loathe.
“From where you’re sitting?” she hisses. “Yeah, I’ve seen that girl around.” And the claws are back out. “Good luck to you with that one. I think she’s offering a little something to James right now in exchange for a free round.” She opens her mouth just a little and uses her fist to make the universal sign for a blow job.
My dick throbs against my zipper.
“You jealous, Kingsley?” I move closer, invading her space. I look over my shoulder and see my date leaning over the bar flirting with James, so I’m going to enjoy this moment.
Emma’s breathing is erratic, but she leans forward. Her mouth is so close to mine it wouldn’t take much to sneak just a taste.
“I’d have to care to be jealous.” She forces a fake smile before moving t
o her feet and sliding around me. “Be careful, Old Solemn. That one looks like she wants to sink her teeth into you and take a large bite.” She pats my chest and I grab her hand to hold her there.
“Don’t you worry about me and Sadie.” I raise a brow in challenge.
She yanks her hand away and glares at me. “It’s Sophie, genius, and I couldn’t care less. I’m going home.”
I watch the way her hips sway as she saunters away, and her peach-shaped ass captures the attention of every guy in the room. I growl, because everything about her aggravates me.
I look up to see my date smiling and she uses her finger to beckon me over. I’ve suddenly got a massive headache and I want to get the hell out of here.
“Hey, big guy.” She leans forward and grips my junk. If this night isn’t a reminder as to why I have lost my taste for this shit, nothing is. I’m not a horny teenager, despite what just happened, and I don’t like being treated like one. If I want a woman, she’ll know it.
But Sadie or Sophie or whatever the hell her name is, doesn’t do it for me. I wrap my hand around her slim wrist and tug it away.
“Let’s call this done, all right?” I pull out some cash and drop it on the bar.
“Oh, so we’re moving right to the fun?” She grins and then licks her lips in a way she thinks is sexy. I think I might be wrinkling my nose up and backing away while I’m watching her, but she doesn’t seem to be picking up what I’m throwing down. Reading social cues is not her thing, as the woman appears to have the social skills of a rottweiler puppy.
“I like the way you think,” she says. “I was just talking to James, and he’s down to take this party upstairs. They have an office, and I thought you might be down for a party of three?”
I laugh, because this night just keeps getting crazier.
“Listen, I’m not a man who shares. I have no need to. The women I take to my bed are more than satisfied. So no, I’m not interested in a party of three,” I say, and she shakes her head as if that isn’t the only offer on the table. “Nor am I interested in a party of two … with you.”
