Mister Bossy (Bad Boys in Love Book 4) Page 2

  My mother sighs despairingly and gives a tragic, little where did I go wrong? head shake. She’s been walking around on eggshells. Like this is a straight-up hostage situation. Like I’m some terrifying stranger who just blasted through the inn’s front door with a heavy body bag over my shoulder and blood splatter on my T-shirt, demanding room and board.

  They’re treating me like a stranger. That’s suddenly what I’ve become. A stranger.

  Do they not remember that I’m their son? That I lived on this very property for decades before getting locked up? I guess this is what our relationship is going to be like from now on.

  If my family keeps tiptoeing around me like this, no doubt it’ll be easy living up to my new reputation as the Kingston family asshole. They’re driving me crazy.

  Despite them looking after my daughter these past couple years, I can’t help but resent them. They had all this time with her, when I didn’t.

  It’s not fair. Not much is. Not anymore, at least.

  Some days, I think this is life’s way of punishing me for having shit too good. I was running the family business. I was married to a beautiful woman, and had an adorable baby girl. My little family never wanted for anything. Money was rolling in, and we were happy. We had it all.

  Until we didn’t.

  Three years ago, I pled guilty to a laundry list of white-collar crimes. I surrendered my dreams, my plans, my future at the prison gates and let a concrete building swallow me whole.

  Less than twenty-four hours ago, that same concrete building spit me out. Into a lonely parking lot, under a gray sky, with no one waiting for me. And all I could think about was getting back here, getting back to my daughter, and picking up the pieces of our broken life.

  Now I’m here, ready to start over. But judging by this awkward-as-hell breakfast at my parent’s kitchen table, my family is not going to like hearing my plans.

  Time to bite the bullet.

  I clear my throat. “I’ll be taking Callie back to the house tonight,” I announce. “It’s time to get back to normal, and that starts with her living with me.”

  Ma’s fork clatters to her plate. Dad’s coffee mug hits the table with a thump.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Eli,” Dad says warily, his voice tight.

  Excuse me? “What do you mean, it’s not a good idea?” I crack my knuckles, anger already building up in me.

  My brothers share a look.

  There’s restraint in Cannon’s voice when he speaks. “Callie’s a great kid but sometimes it takes her a little while to warm up to people.”

  I shoot him a glare. “I’m not ‘people’. I’m her father.”

  He huffs out a breath. “You know what I mean.”

  I sure as shit don’t.

  Ma grips her cloth napkin between her hands, twisting it as she speaks. “We just think doing that would be too disruptive for Callie. She doesn’t know what’s happening, and we were thinking that maybe it would be good to move slowly on this. Introduce you two and slowly build up to her moving in with you full-time.”

  My neck rears back. “Introduce?” It’s starting to sound like my parents want to keep my little girl all for themselves.

  Not gonna happen.

  I rise to my feet abruptly, my chair scraping across the hardwood floor and then wobbling behind me. “This is my daughter! And if she doesn’t know what’s going on, it’s because you’ve kept her from me. The only way to get back to normal is to move forward.”

  My parents look back and forth at each other, carrying on a silent conversation.

  Mom tries again. “If you’ll just sleep on this, I think you’ll see that we—”

  “No, Ma. No.” I stomp and the antique china cabinets rattle behind me. “She is my daughter, and this is my decision. You’re not going to keep her from me.”

  “Son.” My dad’s voice deepens as he rises out of his own seat and meets my eyes from across the table. If he’s trying to intimidate me, it’s not going to work.

  Jude pushes his chair back, ready to jump in and play peacemaker.

  As for Cannon? His expression says he’d readily taser the fuck out of me if I start to get out of line. I wouldn’t put it past him.

  Cannon was always the ruthless one. Don’t let the ridiculous man-bun fool you.

  “I’ve sacrificed too much. So sorry, Father Dearest. There’s no way I’m going to just fade into the mist and leave my kid behind again.”

  Dad’s jaw ticks. “No one is trying to keep Callie from you. But let’s be honest—it’s not really your decision. You know it’s more complicated than that.”

  Ma touches my hand. “Your father’s right, dear. We have to work with the system, and you know that takes time.”

  A feral sound escapes my chest. “I’m aware of how it works.” I grit out tersely. “But since you’re family, I assumed you’d do the right thing until we could sort out the legal stuff.”

  Jude opens his mouth to throw in his two cents but a giggling flash of pink and yellow darts into the dining room. The flash comes to an abrupt halt when she sees the room full of people.

  Time seems to stop around me, as I take in my daughter. My heart literally stutters at the sight of her tiny face.

  Christ.

  I’ve seen pictures, but she looks even older in person. It’s been more than three years since I’ve laid my sights on the girl. Those big, innocent eyes still hold the essence of her youth, as do her little hands. But her cheeks no longer squish up like the used to. She’s outgrown that cute, pudgy toddler phase, and now she’s so stinking tall—bird legs and all—wearing pajamas with some cartoon character splattered across her little belly. And I’d recognize that mess of blonde curls anywhere.

  Callie’s widened eyes dart to her grandparents before returning to me. “D-daddy?” Her voice is hesitant. Almost as though she’s afraid...of me.

  My arms are aching to wrap around my child, to pick her up and squeeze her tight, but she looks like a nervous baby deer. She looks like she’s about to run. I don’t want to scare her.

  I’m bigger than I was a few years ago, bulky muscles cording my shoulders and biceps. Think that the movie cliché of jailbirds working out all day is just a bunch of bullshit? Well, let me tell you—when you suddenly find yourself with eighteen hours of free time each day, you put your body to work. And I’m sure my scruffy beard and tattooed forearms don’t exactly give off cuddly teddy bear vibes, either.

  I drop to my knees on the floor in front of her. My heart thuds in awe as I take in every detail of her, examining her pretty face, noticing that same old freckle on her cheek and that little crease between her eyes. As gently as possible, I reach up and brush her wild hair back from her face.

  She’s simply perfect.

  When I was in prison, my parents refused to bring Callie to see me. It’s no environment for a child, they’d tell me. Especially a little girl.

  I hated that they made up their minds without giving me a say. As her father, it should have been me making that call. Not them.

  But when I stare into my daughter’s eyes, I know deep down it was the right decision. I’m glad she didn’t have to see me in there. In that dark, dingy place, where the only colors around were gray concrete and orange jumpsuits.

  I’m about to answer Callie. To tell her that—yes, I am in fact her daddy—when a big laugh and tiny woman burst into the room. “Callie-Cal! Where are you?”

  My attention snaps over to a teeny brunette with glittering brown eyes and a larger-than-life grin. Even this early in the freaking morning.

  Her thick, long hair drapes down over her perky breasts, flowing almost to her tapered-in waist. She wears white sneakers with a fluttery, little pink ruffled dress that looks obnoxiously modest even while expertly highlighting her slim waist and athletic thighs. Throw some wings on this sparkling woman’s back, and she’d be a goddamned fairy.

  My cock twitches.

  I don’t like her. Already.
>
  The miniature woman drops her attention to where I’m kneeling on the floor with my daughter.

  She freezes in her tracks the moment our gazes lock.

  3

  Jessa

  My canvas sneakers squeak to a cringe-worthy halt in the middle of the kitchen. I’m sure everyone in the room can hear my heart pounding. But my hammering pulse has nothing to do with all the running I’ve been doing, chasing Callie around the house. My erratic heartrate is all about the man on bended knee brushing the little girl’s hair from her face.

  It’s him.

  Oh, my god. It’s him.

  Eli Kingston.

  Tall and dark-haired with wide shoulders—but minus the twinkling smile. Rough beard taking up residence on his strong jaw. That body looking even more powerful in the plain black Henley sweater than it had in the business suit he wore in the photo on Callie’s night stand. The sleeves are pushed back to his elbows, revealing muscled forearms and ink.

  Bad boy edge? Check.

  Big dick energy? Double-check.

  And—holy shit!—before I’ve even heard his voice, my panties are already disintegrating.

  But what is he doing here? When did he get out? He still has years left on his prison sentence. At least that’s what my research into his case turned up.

  Did I misread the court documents?

  Or did a judge overturn the verdict?

  Did he knock out a prison guard, dig a tunnel under the jailhouse and make a run for it?! I had a dream about that once. It was sexy as hell.

  Wait—am I even awake?!

  I curl my fingers into my palm. I need the bite of my fingernails to confirm that this is not just another dream.

  Because Eli Kingston is clearly not behind bars. He’s here in the family kitchen of the Kingston guesthouse. Kneeling not six feet away. Glaring at me like I’ve got my finger on the execution button, about to flip the switch on his electric chair.

  Tension in the air is thick. I’m not sure what Callie and I just interrupted, but I’m starting to doubt we should be in here.

  I titter nervously. “Oh, sorry,” I address the room. “Our hide-and-seek went sideways, and I didn’t realize anyone was in here.”

  “Jessa…I’m hungry,” Callie whimpers in her soft, tiny voice as she skitters out of her father’s grasp and comes to latch herself onto my leg.

  I’m hungry, too. I throw a longing glance at the coffee pot. I’d do something pretty indecent for a cup of coffee right about now. But I take the little girl’s hand, ready to back up out of the room because I’m woefully unprepared to participate in whatever is going on in here. “Sweetie, we can wait. Until the grownups finish their conversation.”

  But Diana Kingston comes and puts a palm on my shoulder. “No, dear, it’s good that you and Callie are here.” With her signature sugar cookie smile, she’s ushering me even closer to the danger zone.

  Now, my heart really gets going. Jesus—my mind is racing.

  Dithering words spill out of me as I take klutzy steps alongside Diana. “We’re not in a hurry,” I insist. “We can wait. And a late breakfast is better, anyway. Have you heard of intermittent fasting? It’s great for your digestion. And digestion is so important. We shouldn’t underestimate…” My words trail off, because everyone is staring at me with grave expressions on their faces.

  That’s when Eli rises to his full height, and whoa!, the man is a freaking tower. Tall and broad and solid.

  I’ve spent months studying his picture. But he’s even more handsome in the flesh, in spite of the hardness he exudes. Or maybe, it’s because of it. And don’t even get me started on those prison tats. I’ve always been a ‘neat, no-stubble, combed-over, buttoned-up white knight’ kind of girl. And Eli Kingston is clearly no white knight.

  But lordy lord, is he mouthwatering.

  My cheeks burn with the memory of what I did last night in the privacy of my bedroom, thinking about the very man. I can feel a blush blossoming on my cheeks.

  Lucas Kingston turns to Eli. He aims a cautious look at his son. “This is Jessa. She's been helping us take care of Callie.”

  Eli glares some more. But I refuse to let my overzealous smile wobble. In fact, under the scorching spotlight of his stare, I grin wide like an alligator. I’m pretty sure I’m showing off wisdom teeth here.

  Then Mr. Kingston turns a kind—albeit, exhausted—smile my way. “And Jessa, this is—”

  “Eli,” I interrupt. Crapsters. I wince, silently cursing my blabbermouth for getting carried away. As always. “I mean, Mr. Kingston. Well...y'know...um, Callie's dad. I just...I've seen pictures of him—you—around the house and—”

  “You guys have a stranger taking care of my kid?!” Eli’s eyes flash with anger. He looks right past me, his laser-red gaze focuses on his parents before snapping over to his brothers.

  “Remember? We talked about this—Jessa is Lexi's sister,” Mrs. Kingston explains. “She's no stranger in this home.”

  Eli raises a single brow, looking impatient and unimpressed. “Lexi?”

  Cannon makes a feral, growly sound. “Lexi is my wife,” he snaps, seemingly losing his patience.

  Eli growls right back. “Sorry, brother. I haven’t been able to keep up-to-date with the goings-on in your life. Seeing as I was busy being incarcerated and all.”

  A tug on my sweater alerts me to Callie, who’s still gripping my leg, using me as her personal shield and desperately trying to hide behind me. It breaks my heart. But I know she has nothing to be afraid of. Her daddy might look and sound scary, but judging by the cards—to his daughter—and the letters—to me—I know underneath is a gentle, wounded man.

  I throw the child a little wink to assure her that everything will be okay. A bit of my own tension fades when she tentatively grins back at me.

  “Jessa is practically family,” Jude supplies, trying to reason with his brother.

  Mrs. Kingston wears a soft, pleading smile. “And she's been doing such a wonderful job with Callie—”

  “Well, that's just great, but I'm home now,” Eli interrupts, his voice dryer than the neglected toast and waffles sitting on the dining table. “We won't be needing a damn nanny anymore.”

  Callie squeezes my leg a little tighter.

  “Language, Eli,” Mr. Kingston loudly scolds his son.

  The men continue their argument, voices raised, tempers flaring. Mrs. Kingston does her best to mediate the situation. Callie’s anxious grip on me tightens whenever her name gets volleyed back into the heated conversation.

  I peer down at her. She’s enthralled with the action before us, her eyes flicking between her father and her grandparents. I know I’ll have to answer a question or two about this conversation later. Reaching back to my second-year psychology course, I mentally prepare how I’ll navigate that.

  This whole deal is totally inappropriate to carry out in front of a socially-developing five-year-old. I momentarily consider taking her out of the room until the adults settle their beef but I’m not convinced the protective father would just let me saunter out of here with his kid.

  “Callie's been thriving with Jessa.”

  “It's really in the child's best interest to stay here for now.”

  “Y’know, you should stay here, too. Until you get back on your feet and all.”

  Eli's family tries in vain to reason with him, but I’m quickly realizing that he may be the most stubborn among the Kingston brothers.

  Finally, the man snaps. “I have my own house!” His booming voice echoes with finality. “And the ‘child’ you’re referring to is my kid. So pack up her shit. She's coming home with me.”

  Gasps ring out around the room, but Eli doesn’t stick around to offer apologies or bandage anyone’s bruised feelings.

  He brushes past me—lighting my arm on fire as he goes—and storms out of the room.

  4

  Jessa

  After Eli marches out of breakfast, I spend the next few hours on edg
e, anxious for the other shoe to drop. My insides are all tied up over the fact that the man could come back at any moment and take his little girl away.

  He’d be well within his right to do that, of course. He’s her dad, after all. But I can’t imagine what it would do to her grandparents if Callie were suddenly taken away. And I’m attached to her, too. More than I should be. I’d miss her like crazy.

  As an additional wrinkle, I’d instantly be out of a job. I cringe when I imagine myself on the doorstep of Jittery Joe’s, coffee-stained apron in hand, butt looking like a pancake in those uniform khakis, making Oliver Twist eyes at my ex-boss, grovelling for my old barista job back.

  Crescent Harbor is a quaint 5000-person tourist town on the coast of Lake Michigan. It’s nearly impossible to find work outside of tourist season. Given that it’s now only the beginning of spring, if I lose this job, it could be weeks, maybe months, before I land new employment.

  But as of lunchtime, there’s been no sign of Eli back at the family inn. Still, I can’t let my guard down because at this point, anything could happen.

  I get Callie down for her afternoon nap, and the day’s events have my thoughts spiraling. I need to get out of the house.

  I tie my sneakers and stroll down the dirt path to Penny and Walker’s cabin to see if they’re back from the hospital yet. Penny just gave birth to healthy, adorable twin boys. Callie and I paid them a quick visit at the hospital where they were born yesterday morning. But I can’t wait to go spend some quality time with the newborns as soon as they get home, to nibble on their itty-bitty fingers and toes.

  I’m not sure if the little family is accepting guests right now so I’m bringing a paper bag of fresh-baked cookies I snatched on my way out of the guesthouse’s kitchen. I’m prepared to use the cookies for bribery, if necessary.

  As I’m approaching the tiny house, I see Penny’s new minivan parked next to Walker’s beat-up truck on the gravel drive. Iris and Lexi’s cars are here, too. Looks like I wasn’t the only one excited to get another peek at the little ones.