Bossy: An Alpha Collection

by Levine, Nina

  She holds the album close to her chest. “No, I’m not letting this go until I absolutely have to.”

  I chuckle because she actually looks panicked at the thought of giving it up. I’m about to leave the kitchen when a sudden wave of fuck-it washes over me. A moment later, she’s in my arms, and our mouths are inches apart. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?” I demand, my breaths quickening.

  “Luke, what are you doing?” She presses her hands to my chest as if she’s trying to push me away, but there’s no force behind her movement.

  I ignore the shake in her voice. Instead, I focus only on my need. I’m a complete bastard in this moment, but fuck, I want Callie so damn much, and with each passing minute tonight, I’m less sure I can do as she’s asked.

  Resting my forehead against hers, I say, “I’m trying here, Callie.”

  We cling to each other for a few more minutes until eventually I let her go and stalk into the lounge room. Pushing out some harsh breaths, I attempt to get myself under control.

  The divorce will be filed soon.

  Not fucking soon enough.

  “Luke…” Callie’s hesitant voice fills the room.

  I turn to find her staring at me with the same turmoil I’m feeling. Raking my fingers through my hair, I say, “This is going to be tougher than I thought. Keeping my hands off you is something I’m going to have to work harder at.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  I frown. “Why are you sorry? This is all on me.”

  “No, it’s not. You’re not with your wife anymore, and you’re getting a divorce, so really we could be together. That’s what society does these days. I get that. But, I’ve got these old-fashioned beliefs about love and marriage, and I hold them sacred. I mean, what if you decided you really did love Jolene and could forgive her anything? I wouldn’t want to stand between a husband and his wife.”

  “While I appreciate what you’re saying, and really fucking respect you for those beliefs, I want you to know it’s crazy talk to even suggest I would forgive Jolene for what she did.” I move closer and cup her cheek. “And I need you to know I’m invested in this, Callie. I don’t love Jolene anymore. You’re the woman I want in my life.”

  She sucks her bottom lip into her mouth and bites it for a moment. “Okay,” she says softly. The hesitation in her voice kills me. This was why I wanted to have my messy life tidied up before I pursued a relationship with her.

  My mouth curls into a smile. “Right, so where’s this roast you promised me?”

  Her eyes widen. “Oh, God, the roast!” She makes a mad dash into the kitchen, and I hear a lot of cursing and banging around as she deals with the roast.

  By the time I make it into the kitchen, she’s pulled the roasting pan from the oven and has it sitting on top of the stove. Her back is to me, and she’s staring down at the dish, her shoulders slumped in what looks like defeat.

  “All good?” I ask.

  She doesn’t move except to shake her head. “No. It’s bloody burnt.” At that, she swings around to face me. “I’m really fucking annoyed too because I spent hours over the past few days practicing. I even had my neighbour show me her way of cooking.”

  She looks so disappointed that I want to wrap her in my arms. I don’t dare do this, though. Instead, I take a look at what we’re dealing with here. “I think it’s okay.” Taking the carving knife and fork from her, I begin slicing the burnt parts from the meat. She’s cooked roast beef, which is my favourite, and I wonder if she already knew that, just like she knew my favourite beer.

  “You’re just saying that to make me feel better,” she mutters.

  “No, I’m not. Look here,” I say, showing her the meat that’s good. “It might be a little dry, but that’s nothing a good helping of gravy won’t fix.”

  She covers her face with her hand, shaking her head. I sense another Callie-meltdown coming. Eyeing me between two parted fingers, she says, “I forgot to buy the gravy mix. We should have just gone out. Or ordered take away. Or had mac and cheese.”

  “Mac and cheese?” I do my best not to laugh. Fuck knows that would not go down well right about now.

  “I’m a pro at mac and cheese. You’d be assured of a meal that wasn’t burnt.”

  I want to do nothing other than make her feel good, but a quick look around the kitchen tells me this is going to get worse before it gets better. “Right, so I can make gravy. What veggies were you thinking of cooking besides roast potato?” The potatoes aren’t looking so good—they’re overcooked and dry.

  Keeping her eyes on mine, she takes a deep breath and exhales it slowly. Reaching for her Vodka Cruiser, she waves in the air as she says, “Whatever you find in the freezer would be good.”

  I can’t help it. I laugh. Placing my hands on her shoulders, I guide her to the small table in the kitchen. Pulling a chair out, I order, “You rest your feet while I finish this off. I imagine they’re sore after being on them all day slaving over this food.”

  Her lips twitch. “Yes, so damn sore.”

  I spend the next twenty minutes cooking the peas, broccoli and cauliflower I find in her freezer while also making gravy from the pan juice. Callie’s eyes track my every movement. I know this because she talks non-stop the entire time, telling me how her mother could have forewarned me that this dinner would be a complete failure. She also tells me how her sister, Melissa, is everything her mother ever wanted in a daughter, while she is a big disappointment to both her parents.

  When I finally place the meal on the table, I say, “It would have been a lie if your mother had told me this dinner would be a failure because I’m having the best time I’ve had in a long while.”

  She sighs as she spoons peas onto her plate. “How do you always say the exact right thing, Luke Hardy?”

  I chuckle. “You never used to think that way.” I take the dish of peas off her as she passes it.

  “Well, that was before I got to know the real you. And something tells me that there are so many layers to the real Luke, that I’m only just getting started.”

  After we finish loading our plates with food, I ask, “How many times did you practice cooking this?”

  She pulls a face as if she’s pained to tell me. “Three times.”

  “Fuck, Callie. Roast is expensive, and you can’t afford that at the moment.” While I’m annoyed she wasted that money on me, my body is alive with want. Actions speak louder than words, and Callie’s actions scream so loudly. This woman wants me enough to give up something precious.

  “I can afford whatever I choose. I do have savings,” she says a little snappishly. And then her voice softens when she adds, “I wanted the first meal I cooked you to be perfect.”

  “Perfect is overrated. I prefer real,” I murmur.

  “Well, you got real. This is the real me. I can’t cook for shit and I’m no domestic goddess, but I can keep indoor plants alive, am always on time and can play any song you want on the guitar. If none of those things are of any use to you, feel free to bow out now.”

  I grin. “You can’t get rid of me that easy. Besides, I think guitar skills are an underrated commodity in this world. Making people smile should be at the top of everyone’s priorities, and I’m fairly sure most people smile when they listen to music.”

  “Shut up, Luke. Stop talking, because seriously, you’re just digging yourself deeper into my swoon cave, and I might pass out from all that swooning.”

  “What the hell is a swoon cave?”

  “That is secret women’s business. Now, be quiet and eat.” She is too damn cute when she tries to boss me around.

  We eat in silence for a good minute before she starts talking again. I figured it wouldn’t take her long to break her own directive—I’m convinced Callie could talk under water.

  “How did you know I love Ron Pope? I know you said you pay attention, but when? When did I ever bring him up?”

  “Do you remember that time you and Avery went to see that loc
al band? The one that does covers of his songs?”

  She’s quiet while thinking. When she finally remembers, her eyes light up. “Yes! But that was like seven or so months ago.”

  “So?”

  “So, you’ve remembered that all this time?”

  “I have a good memory, Callie.”

  Her eyes narrow. “What else do you know about me that I don’t know you know?”

  “Fuck, that’s a riddle.”

  “Well?” She watches me expectantly, as if she doesn’t think I know anything.

  I put my cutlery down and rest my elbows on the table. Holding her gaze, I say, “For reasons unknown to me, you love Taylor Swift; you’re a Netflix addict, with comedy, crime and documentaries being your favourite; you love going to see live music; you love visiting the markets on Sundays and especially love churros from there; the beach is one of your favourite places in the world; you love going to the movies and also to art galleries; surprisingly you love both country music and heavy metal; and you prefer to support indie artists rather than mainstream. You don’t back down easily when you’re passionate about something or believe you’re right, but you will begrudgingly admit when you’re wrong. You have a fantastic sense of humour. You like to go out a lot, but you also seem to be a homebody at times. You hate wearing heels but will put yourself through hell to impress a man. Oh, and you ask a lot of fucking questions. All the time.”

  She’s stopped eating and is staring at me in shock. When she speaks, her voice is shaky. “Where the hell have you been all my life? Even the guy I dated for years probably didn’t know all that.”

  A rush of possessive dominance hits me. The thought of another man with his hands on her twists in my gut. But I have no right to say the things I want to say to her about other men because she has to deal with my past more than I have to deal with hers. So, I change the subject instead. “Your mother? You’re not close?”

  All the energy blazing around her dissipates when I bring up her mother. Her body slumps, and it’s clear this is not a topic she likes to discuss. “As far as my mother is concerned, I’m average at everything I try in my life. I’ve never measured up to my sister. Melissa is good at every-fucking-thing and was into all the same shit as Mum. She’s like a bloody clone. They both love the same fashion, music, TV shows, movies… Fuck, Melissa probably hates sex just as much as my mother for all I know.”

  “So I take it you’re not close to your sister either?”

  She shakes her head. “No. I mean, I wish we were, but that never happened for us. Mum took away any opportunity we had at an amazing friendship.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Anytime I started to get close to Mel, Mum swooped in and dragged her away. She took her shopping or to the beauty salon or some other girly thing she knew I wouldn’t be interested in. I was always invited, but I’m convinced Mum knew I’d say no.” She leans forward. “As well as never being smart enough for Mum, I’ll never be girly enough for her either.”

  “Callie, I’m a man, so I have no fucking clue what women classify as girly, but as far as I’m concerned, you’ve nailed it.”

  A smile sparks in her eyes and travels to her lips. “You can come for roast dinner anytime, Mr Hardy.”

  I smirk. “Should I cook it at home first?”

  She scrunches her face up at me. “That would be acceptable. And you can also do the dishes, smartass.”

  As I sit laughing, I pray that I will one day be this woman’s everything. Though, when your life has been turned upside down in ways you never imagined, and you’ve lost most of the hope you ever had, it’s hard to believe a prayer will be answered.

  10

  Callie

  “I bought you gifts,” I say as I step through Avery’s front door.

  “Coffee and Chupa Chups. Best friend ever,” she replies as she swipes them out of my hands.

  Exhaustion clothes Avery today and my worry over her intensifies. I follow her into the lounge room and am surprised to find a huge mess of products and packaging supplies scattered across the floor. Avery is usually OCD about her setup.

  She waves at the mess and mutters, “Sorry, we’ve got some sorting out to do first.”

  I narrow my eyes at her. “What’s going on, A? First, you cancelled on me the other day for this, and now you’re in a mess, and you’re never in a mess. Is Helena worse?”

  Avery stops and stares at me blankly as if she’s fighting through the jumble in her mind in order to answer my question. “My family’s falling apart. More than we already had. Dad’s been diagnosed with Huntington’s Disease, Helena’s depression has spiralled into a dark place and Beth is fucking self-harming.” She blows out a long breath. “After sixteen years of looking after them, I’m not sure I have it in me to cope with all this. Not all at once. I could have done each one on its own, but fuck, for it all to land on me this week, it’s too much, Callie.” Her voice breaks and tears slide down her face.

  I wrap my arms around her and hold her tightly in a hug. “I’m so sorry.”

  She clings to me, and I hold her until she lets go. We don’t speak. Avery and I don’t need words. We just need to know each other will be there, and in the three years we’ve been best friends, we’ve never let the other down.

  Wiping madly at her tear-stained face, she says, “This is going to sound awful, but I feel like I lost my life to my family the day my mum died.” Her face crumples as more tears fall.

  “You did. And it’s not awful for you to say the truth out loud. You were ten for God’s sake. And you took on the care for your family. I know he wasn’t coping, but your dad let you down, Avery. A parent is supposed to hold everything together when life screws up their family. That’s not a child’s job.”

  Her sobs grow louder, and she slumps against me again. My heart breaks for everything she’s been through. I wish I could take her burdens from her. Avery deserves the chance to chase her dreams. If I could give her anything, I’d give her that.

  When she moves out of my embrace, she takes a deep breath and says, “Okay, that’s enough complaining. We’ve got a shitload of work to do here today. I hope you’re up for it.”

  I know this is her way of telling me she doesn’t want to discuss her problems anymore. Avery hates going over problems incessantly. She’s a fixer rather than a grumbler, and I always respect that. I never try to force her into talking about something she’s not ready to tackle.

  I reach into my bag and pull more lollipops out. Smiling, I say, “I came prepared.”

  A smile slowly spreads across her face. “I love you.”

  We spend the next five hours sorting through her orders and packaging them up for shipping. Avery sells a wide range of women’s products from hair accessories to make-up tools, handbags, clothes and phone accessories. Over the last few years, she has amassed a large customer base and sources anything they ask for. If she didn’t have the expense of caring for her family members, she’d be able to live off her earnings from the eBay shop alone.

  “I think that’s all for today,” she says after collapsing onto the couch once we finish packing the last order.

  I join her. “Are you sure there’s nothing else I can do to help? I’ve got the whole day off.”

  “No, I’m all caught up now. Thank you so much for helping. It feels like a huge weight off my shoulders.” Her lips curl up into a smile. “What you can do, though, is tell me how things are between you and Luke.”

  “Oh, God, I tried to cook him a roast last night. Epic fail. And when I say epic, I mean fucking epic with a capital E.”

  Her smile morphs into a frown. “What, the date was a fail? Or the roast?”

  “The roast! You know I can’t cook to save myself. I don’t know what I was thinking when I told him I could cook.”

  She laughs and doesn’t stop. Tears are soon streaming down her face again, but these ones are happy at least. “This is too funny, Callie. Thank you for the laugh. I needed it.”
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  “I’m pretty sure Luke was holding his laughter back last night.”

  “So what did you eat instead? Or did you starve the man?”

  “He resurrected the roast and then cooked the gravy and veggies. It’s so embarrassing. I’m never cooking for a man again.”

  She’s still laughing. “It will go down in your history. You guys will remember this for years to come, and that’s something pretty special. But yeah, maybe let him cook in future.”

  I love the way she talks about our future as if it’s a given. “I hope we’re together that long for it to become a favourite memory,” I say softly.

  “Am I allowed to know Luke’s big secret yet?”

  Smiling, I say, “Yes. I asked him last night if it was okay to tell you. He was kind of weird about it at first; he muttered something about women having to know everything. But he did agree that so long as you don’t broadcast it around the bar, he’s okay with it.”

  Her eyes light up, and she practically bounces on the spot. “So spill!”

  I share everything I know about Luke and his family with her as she sits in complete silence. It’s unlike Avery not to butt in with questions, but she doesn’t. I think I’ve stunned the shit out of her with this story.

  When I finish, she says, “Fuck me. If you weren’t the one telling me that, I’m not sure I’d believe it. That sounds like something off a TV show more than real life.”

  “You’re telling me. It’s taken me ages to wrap my head around this. And besides the wife stuff, I was almost speechless when I met his son. Luke never struck me as a father.”

  “Me either, but I can see it now. He’s a bossy man. I can imagine him bossing a kid around.”

  My phone sounds with a text, interrupting us.

  * * *

  Luke: Are you free for me to call?

  Me: Give me a minute. I’ll call you.

  * * *

  Looking up at Avery, I say, “It’s Luke.”

  She moves off the couch. “You go, babe. I’m going to take a nap before I have to head over to Helena’s and check on her. Thank you so much for today.”