Mister Bossy (Bad Boys in Love Book 4)
Page 12
Love pours out of her. I see the woman love on my daughter every moment of every day. The kind of love a mother is supposed to have for her baby.
Jessa’s eyes flick to mine, like she senses me in the doorway. Our gazes hold. Still, she doesn’t budge, doesn’t loosen her nurturing grip on my scared child.
Callie glances up and sees me. The little girl takes over my whole wide world, cutting me off at the knees with just one word. “Daddy…”
She stretches out her arm, reaching toward me.
I rush to her side just as lightning slices through the sky again. She whimpers and buries her face into my chest. Her little arms encircle my neck. Without hesitation, I climb into her bed, squeezing in next to the girls.
“It’s okay, baby. I’m here,” I whisper into her hair over and over again. “I’m here.”
I am shredded to pieces. I hate seeing my little girl tremor with so much fear. Yet still, I’ve been waiting for years to hold her like this, to be able to offer her the comfort that only a dad has to give.
My baby needs me.
When Callie calms and settles herself comfortably in my hold, I exhale, awash in peace. Her breathing evens out and I’m pretty sure that she’s asleep.
I glance up and find Jessa staring at me. She’s looking at me with equal parts admiration, curiosity, relief, maybe even a hint of heat. I’m definitely no expert on reading women, though, so maybe I’m mistaking the shadows in her eyes for something else.
She breaks eye contact and focuses on my daughter for a split second. Then she starts to stealthily peel herself out of the bed. It doesn’t work.
Callie stirs, her eyes still closed, and she murmurs, “Don’t go, Jessa. Stay please.”
The nanny exhales hard before leaning down to kiss the top of Callie’s head. Her mouth is so close to mine, I can smell the minty toothpaste on her breath. Suddenly, I remember in detail what it’s like to kiss her. And now, I want to get even closer.
“Of course, sweet girl. I’m here,” Jessa says softly before snuggling back down next to my daughter. She doesn’t even look to me to ask my permission. That almost makes me smile. Knowing that she’s going to do whatever is in Callie’s best interests, whether or not I approve. That’s some unconditional devotion right there.
The bed is impossibly small, but the three of us make it work. Jessa lies on her side, her back pressed up against the wall. I pull Callie’s sleeping body over my chest, so I can lay flat on my back and give us a couple more inches of space. But it kind of backfires on me, because now, I can feel the heat from Jessa’s body radiating right next to mine. My legs are hanging over the foot of the mattress and Jessa’s knees are tucked up against my calves.
Her big eyes find mine again, glittering like fireflies in the darkness. I wonder if she’s thinking about the last time our bodies were this close—the night when we kissed—because that’s all I can seem to think about. But more than anything, I can’t help but wish she was more than just Callie’s nanny. She already loves my daughter. Now, she’s getting under my skin, too. I can’t help but think that this could be so easy with her.
The question, though, is how do I label these things I’m starting to feel for her? The soothing warmth in my chest each time she smiles at Callie. The strong ripple in my gut every time our skin accidentally touches. The sharp ache in my dick whenever she cuts her eyes at me or stands up for herself or puts me in my place. Everything she does reminds me that I’m alive.
Calm the fuck down, buddy.
What is wrong with me? The woman is the nanny. Not my mail-order bride. And after the way I’ve treated her, she probably can’t even stand me.
Jessa’s doe eyes flutter shut. I watch, bewitched, as she drifts to sleep.
An almost foreign sort of peace sweeps over me. It isn’t long till I’m sleeping, too.
21
Eli
The nurse rubs a soothing hand on my grandfather's back as he swallows a colorful cocktail of pills and washes it down with a glass of cloudy water.
Hovering over his bed, I fluff up a deflated pillow and glide it behind the old man’s back. He grunts and leans his head back on the pillow. I’m pretty sure that’s as close to a thank you as I’m going to get and I’m okay with that.
It’s been a pretty uneventful past few days since Jessa got back from her time off and put me in my place. She’s kept our conversations to a minimum and made damn sure to stay out of my way. I hate the wall she’s built between us but I get it; she has every right to be pissed at me after the way I’ve behaved.
The tension in the house was too much today so after dealing with the water that seeped into the house after last night’s rainstorm, I decided to pay my grandfather a visit, something I’ve been delaying, knowing full well that seeing him after all this time and in the state that he’s in, could end up being emotional. I glance at the feeble, confused man in the bed. My parents warned me that he’s been deteriorating fast but I didn’t expect it to be this bad.
I follow the nurse across the room to the corner where she's making notes in her chart. "Is he always like this?" I ask in a whisper from just over her shoulder.
"He has his good days and his bad days," the silver-haired woman says without looking away from her notes. "Some days, he's coherent and he spends hours grumbling about his troublesome grandsons and the problems in his company.” She chuckles then her expression drops. “Some days he stares blankly at a wall for hours on end. Other days, he's just downright grumpy.” She sets down her pen and smiles wistfully at her sullen patient. “It's all normal with his condition."
Wordlessly, I stare at Gramps. Seeing him like this is hard, man. Right before I left for jail, the Alzheimer's had just begun sinking its claws into him. But he'd still come to the office on occasion. He'd still play mediator between Dad and me when we couldn't see eye-to-eye on executive decisions. But now, he's in this nursing home and he's just a shell of the man he used to be.
He glances at me and I can’t tell what he’s thinking. His eyes seem to be asking where the hell I’ve been, what I’ve been up to, why I haven’t come to see him in so long. But that could all be wishful thinking on my part.
This wretched disease has crippled the man’s cognitive abilities. I can't even count on him to recognize my face, let alone give me some grand nugget of wisdom that will bring clarity to my murky situation.
The nurse smiles at my grandfather and promises to see him again at dinnertime. Then she walks out the door, leaving me alone with the old man.
Gramps leans his head back and closes his eyes. I drop into the chair beside his bed and I just long for the days when I’d tell him my problems and he always had some sage advice for me. So, I decide to pretend that everything is like it used to be. I pour it all out. All the pain and anger and resentment I've been clenching onto with all my might.
I tell him about my time in jail and the bitter tale of how I got there in the first place. Then, I tell him about Callie, about how smart and sweet and wonderful she is and how she doesn’t know what to make of me. I tell him about Jessa and how great of a nanny she is and how much I can’t control the way I feel about her. Finally, I go into detail about Cannon and how pissed I am at how things turned out with the company even though I’m beginning to realize that none of it is really his fault.
When I'm done dumping it all out, I hunch forward and drop my face into my hands, feeling completely overwhelmed.
I sit like that for a while until I hear a gravelly voice scratch out next to me. “Buy the kid an ice cream cone, kiss the nanny, run the damn business with your brother and stop complaining my ear off, will ya?”
My head shoots up. I glance over at my grandfather.
His eyes are bright with amusement and he’s looking at me with a devious half-smile I haven’t seen in years. “Always so serious about everything. Have some damn fun, boy.”
“Wha…?” My mouth opens and closes. I’m looking for the right words to say.
Gramps and I talk and talk and talk for what feels like hours. To be honest, I’m the one who does most of the talking. At times, he struggles with his thoughts. Sometimes I lose him for a few moments. But each word he utters is as precious as gold, every minute of our exchange is so damn incredible. When the nurse comes in to wheel him down to the dining room for dinner, she nearly has to pry me off the bed railing because I just don’t want to say goodbye, not knowing if or when I’ll be able to speak with my grandfather like this again.
On the drive home, I’m grinning the whole time. I just have this inexplicable feeling of optimism alive in my bones. Gramps’s words replay in my head.
Buy the kid an ice cream cone, kiss the nanny, run the damn business with your brother and stop complaining my ear off, will ya?
The advice is overly simplistic—and mostly illogical, of course—but I can’t shake it loose from my skull. Kissing Jessa again is out of the question. Judging by the razorblades she’s been shooting at me with her eyes, she definitely isn’t interested in being kissed by the likes of yours truly.
As for running the business with Cannon? Not gonna happen, either. My brother and I have never really gotten along and joining him on the executive board of Kingston Realties would only result in a power struggle. Our family is already divided enough as it is, and if people had to pick sides, I’m pretty sure who everyone would choose.
Hint: it wouldn’t be me.
So, I stick with the easiest suggestion on Gramps’s list. I stop at the ice cream shop on the way home and I pick up a tub of butterscotch ripple for my little girl.
When I present Callie with her bowl of ice cream after dinner, she bounces in her seat and shrieks with glee. Jessa gives me a reticent ghost of a smile as I hand her her own ice cream bowl. Her glittering eyes light up the space like fireflies. And it feels like a small victory for me.
Later on at night, while I’m lying on my sad, lumpy couch staring up into the dark, I hear the floorboards squeaking up above. I imagine the nanny, barefoot in her little yellow sleep shorts and low-cut white tank top, rummaging around the kitchen for more sugar. I feel a wistful smile on my face. Loneliness echoes around in my chest cavity. I just want to go up there. I wish I could. But that would be a terrible idea. No matter how much I’m craving female companionship.
Fuck—Monica never responded to my letter. I wonder what that’s about.
I pull out my phone. I call up my old cellmate from jail. Rivers. He was in and out quickly and he’s one of the few good guys I met in there. He’s a private investigator, or at least, he used to be before getting locked up. And despite his newfound commitment to the peace-and-love, namaste lifestyle, he may be interested in making a few dollars for a quick return to the shady side. I have some money to spare and right now, I need his expertise.
“Rivers,” I say when he picks up. “It’s Kingston.”
“No shit?” He laughs and some commotion bleeds through the line as he seems to move into a quieter room. “I heard you were released. Congrats, man. How’s life as a free man?”
I sigh. “It is what it is.” I cut to the chase. “Look, I need your help. I need you to find someone for me. This woman who was writing to me in jail.”
I share all the information I know about Monica, which isn’t a whole lot. But Rivers doesn’t balk at it.
“What’s your timeline?” he asks. “Is this a someday-maybe I want to find this woman and reconnect? Or is it more…urgent?”
I force a tight laugh. “Urgent. Definitely urgent.”
The bastard chuckles loudly. “Oh, I see…” he says suggestively. He knows exactly what I need this woman for, so if he’s any sort of friend, he’ll get me some answers. Fast.
I hustle him off the phone, shame bleeding like thick, black ink through my veins. Jessa’s face flashes in my mind like a neon sign. I’m at the point where I’m strongly starting to doubt that Monica will be able to steer my thoughts away from the nanny. That any other woman will.
I shut down my conscience, roll over onto my side and try to fall asleep.
22
Jessa
No. No, no, no.
I’m sitting behind my wheel, blinking cluelessly at my dashboard. I have no idea what any of the flashing signals mean but I know it can’t be good. The panel is lit up like an amusement park. I’m going dizzy just looking at it.
This cannot be happening. Not today.
I take a deep breath, cross my fingers and toes, and turn the ignition key again. The engine rumbles, screeches, clicks and backfires. Loudly. I have no doubt Mr. and Mrs. Kingston can hear it all the way over at the guesthouse. It sounds like we have a western shootout happening here in Eli’s driveway.
Crapsters.
Letting my shoulders fall, I climb out of my shitty car. Dad patched it up the last time I went to visit. What on Earth could be wrong with it now?
I grab the hood and struggle to pry it open. It takes a while to figure it out, but eventually the lid pops up, and I’m proud of myself. Smoke billows out from under the hood. Hands clasped over my heart, I stand there and squint through the smoke at the network of greasy tubes and rusty cylinders. I have no idea what I’m even looking for, but that’s just what people do when their old cars refuse to cooperate.
My sister would know exactly how to handle this. Alexia is freakishly handy. In moments like this, I wish I’d spent less time indoors with Mom playing with makeup and more time in the yard with Dad and Lexi tinkering around with cars and old machines.
I’m blinking through the smoke, choking on the smell of oil and death when I hear the front door to Eli’s house slam open.
“What the fuck was that?” The man growls. He comes stomping down his newly built steps, mumbling about this being his only day to sleep in. Guilt hits me, knowing that Callie is enjoying a rare sleepover with her grandparents after they took her to play group yesterday afternoon. Looks like I just ruined my boss’s day off.
But you know what? My day off is ruined, too.
He stalks toward me, in nothing but some low-hanging pajama pants. I’ve seen those abs up close and personal before, but holy hell, they look delicious in the morning light. It takes a whole lot of effort not to drool. Cranky as he is, he’s adorable with his sleepy eyes and his hair sticking up all over the place.
He’s standing next to me now, leering down at the engine bay At least, I think that’s what it’s called.
“Your car made all that damn noise?” he grunts, glimpses at me.
I cover my cheeks with my hands, completely embarrassed. I nod. And so begins the nervous rambling. “I can’t get it to start. And I’m supposed to go visit my parents today. I promised my dad I’d help him set up his new store. He’s opening up a repair shop. Mainly for small appliances. I don’t want to disappoint him, and I know that if I don’t show up, he’ll just play Superman and try to do everything on his own and throw out his back again. I’d call him to come fix it but he’s not answering his phone. Alexia could probably figure out whatever’s wrong but if I call her this early in the morning I might wake up the baby. My sister will say that she’s not mad about that but Di is teething so I’m betting that she woke her parents up half a dozen times last night.” I suck in a deep breath, trying not to cry. I hate that I’m getting all emotional right now.
“You done?” my boss spits out, devastatingly unaffected by my panicked state. I stand there speechless, my mouth opening and closing without a word.
I watch in shock as Eli stalks back inside his house and slams the door.
What? That’s it? Good God. Could that man be any more ill-mannered?
The tears press heavily against the backs of my eyeballs but I’m determined to fight them off, determined to figure out my problems like a grown-up.
Five minutes later, I’m st
ill standing next to my car, scrolling through my phone, searching for a blog post or a YouTube video that might help me figure out what the hell is going on in the engine bay when the front door swings open again. My breath catches. Eli comes stomping back out, this time in work boots and a Henley sweater fitted to his muscle-carved torso.
“You really don’t have to be so damn mean all the time,” I spit out, glaring at him accusingly. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were raised by wolves.”
Ignoring me, he pulls keys from the pocket of his jeans as he walks past me toward his own car.
“You act like the whole world is against you but newsflash; sometimes a little kindness goes a long way,” I carry on, following him down the driveway with my eyes. “You can’t expect anyone to be nice to you if you go around being grumpy to every person you come across.” I feel like I’m lecturing a first-grader on the basics of good manners.
He doesn’t bother addressing my arguments. Actually, wait a minute—is the bastard smirking?! Like my frustration is funny?!
He yanks open his front passenger door. “Get in. I’m driving,” he grumbles.
I pause.
“W-what?” I blink in surprise.
His response is nothing but a long, drawn-out stare.
“I don’t think…You don’t even know where I’m going. My parents don't live in Crescent Harbor. No. It’s too far,” I ramble nervously. “And Cowersville is not the nicest town, either. You probably don’t want to drive your Audi out there. You’re bound to get a nail in your tire, especially in the trailer park. It’s the—”
“Get in the car, Jessa,” he deadpans, holding the door open for me. “I don’t have all day.”
My eyes narrow. My nostrils flare. The man is so rude.