The Bold and the Bullheaded by Willow Aster

Chapter Twelve

Emma

I force myself to go on one more date with Rocco, AKA Mr. October. What the man lacks in brain cells, he appears to make up for with his impressive abs. It’s his claim to fame and that’s as deep as he goes. We’ve been out twice, and both times his body has been the focal point of conversation. The man would be donning a crop top if the guys at the firehouse wouldn’t give him shit for it. I kid you not, he told me this on date number one when he spent thirty minutes describing Ariana Grande’s risqué lace crop top that she recently wore to an event. The man takes his midsection far too seriously. I may have dozed off twice on our last date, but I’m no quitter.

And Spence Taylor looked awfully cozy with Tabitha the temp. I seethed the whole way home after seeing them together. It makes no sense. I wanted him to go out with her.

I also wanted to slap her obnoxiously hot pink manicured hand away from his.

I wanted to call her out for having a giant mint leaf stuck to her front tooth when she thanked me for setting her up with Spence.

Note to self: remind Allen and James to chop those leaves up. There’s no reason to have a freaking garden salad on your tooth when you go out for a cocktail.

But I’d be lying if I didn’t admit I was happy to see her with the green garnish covering her pearly whites. She’s too perfect. I don’t like it. And Spence is too … everything. So sexy and strong and … solemn. How long can Tabitha the temp hold his attention? She’s a temp, for God’s sake. That, by definition, means she’s got commitment issues. She’s a short-term player, not a stage-five clinger. But the way she was all nuzzled up against him seemed like she was creating a new definition to all up in his business. The way his icy eyes locked with mine—why does he have to be the one man who consumes me? He’s also the only man who can hold his own with me when it comes to witty banter, something no one else has ever been able to do.

Which brings me to exhibit A.

I stroll into Mean Mug, only to find Rocco talking to three girls, his T-shirt is hiked up to kingdom come as they take him in. I groan and make my way over to him.

“Sorry, ladies. My girl is here. This is all hers, if she wants it.” He winks at me, and it has no effect on me.

Aside from making my skin crawl.

Come on, girl. Get your head in the game.

I wanted to start dating again so I could forget about Spence Taylor.

The way he makes me want to burn everything around me down just to have one more kiss.

But somehow dating the hot, narcissistic firefighter has only managed to make it worse.

All I can think about is that horse’s ass Spence.

He’s probably halfway down the aisle already with Tabitha the temp. I’m suddenly angry at Mya for setting them up, even though I was all for it. And why the hell did she tell him it was my idea?

The three ladies wave at me before making their way to the bar, and Rocco stands and kisses me on the cheek.

“You can put your shirt down. Show’s over.” I drop down on the barstool across from him and force a smile.

Rocco appears to like the fact that I’m unimpressed by him—hell, I can barely stay awake when we’re together. It’s probably some deep-rooted Mommy issue that the poor bastard has because he keeps coming back for more. And to say he’s struck out twice is putting it mildly. I haven’t even allowed Mr. October to graze his lips against mine.

Nope.

The last man to do that was Spence, and I’m not kissing some self-centered, too tanned, Ariana Grande-loving, man-child just because I need to get over my weirdness with the enemy. I’m not attracted to Rocco that way, to both of our dismay. I order a glass of Chardonnay and my date orders another rum and Diet Coke.

Apparently you don’t get his abs from drinking real sugar.

“Ah, babe, don’t let those girls make you feel threatened. They just wanted a little look-see. They have the calendar hanging up at home and I’m their favorite flavor of the month.” He does a wagging eyebrow thing that makes me want to bolt.

Did I mention I loathe being called babe?

“Well, you certainly couldn’t deprive them of the goods.” I smirk, but Rocco doesn’t speak sarcasm, so he completely misses it.

“Right, babe.”

My skin prickles as a hand lands on my shoulder, and I know who it is before I turn around. Yes, I may have had ulterior motives when Rocco called for date number three and I insisted on coming to Mean Mug. Spence is a regular here, and I wanted to see if he and Tabitha would be out tonight. Coming alone would have looked pathetic, so here we are.

Okay, I’m not as much of a cold-hearted bitch as that sounds. I told Rocco after date one that I didn’t see us going anywhere. Date two, he said he’d buy me dinner for another chance. I was hoping that I’d read him wrong on the first date, but nope. And before tonight, I told him he wasn’t getting any, he said he’d change my mind, and I said not happening, but here we are. I’ll have to get firm once this little rendezvous is over … or maybe I could set him up with Tab the Temporary Distraction.

“What’s up, Queenie?” The sound of my favorite voice has me perking up.

Leastfavorite voice.

I laugh. Yes, I laugh at the ridiculous use of my nickname because I’m so happy he’s here.

Showtime.

“Hey, there. This is a surprise,” I say, turning to face Spence.

“Is it? I’m here a couple nights a week; it shouldn’t be too surprising.” He smirks, one brow raised, and he looks so sexy I have to squeeze my thighs together to keep myself in check.

“Are you? I hadn’t noticed. I guess I’ve been in a daze lately.” I can’t stop smiling as I turn to my date. “This is Rocco. Rocco, this is Spence.”

He is on his feet and reaching for Spence’s hand. I don’t miss the way Rocco flexes and squares his shoulders, as I try not to laugh. This is the one time I don’t mind the attention whore behaving this way. Pour it on. Show him what you’ve got. Make Mama proud.

Spence is a few inches taller, and Rocco gazes up at him, mouth slightly gaping.

“Wow, man. Do you work out?” my date asks, and it takes all I have not to slap the stupid right out of him.

Spence looks between me and want-to-be Magic Mike who has decided it’s the appropriate time to flex and do these ridiculous bodybuilder poses.

“I’m a developer, so I get my hands dirty laying floors and putting up walls. I guess that’s a workout in itself,” Spence says and his gaze doesn’t leave mine.

“Yes. I have a very physical job too,” Rocco says, as he begins patting Spence down. From his shoulders to his arms to his abs, and if I could throat-punch this son of a bitch right now without letting my Spence know, I most certainly would.

I mean Spence. Not my anything.

“Damn, dude. You’re rock hard,” Rocco says.

“Thank you.” Spence looks so pleased with himself that I close my eyes for a second, hoping that will make them both disappear.

Thankfully, the server appears with some chicken fingers for me and a side of lettuce for Mr. October.

“Food’s here, Rocco.” I cock my head to the side, demanding he stop feeling up that jackoff of a goat and take a seat.

“You two have fun,” Solemn says over a chuckle while I seethe. Since when is he so chipper?

“Oh, we will. We always do.” I bite off a piece of my chicken tender and chew. “Where’s the temp?”

This is not going how I intended. And my heart is in some sort of crazy overdrive TikTok dance that I always skip over when on Instagram.

If I want TikTok, I’ll go there.

If I want heartbreak, I’ll go to Spe—fuck me. No.

He does not have my heart. No way in hell. Never will.

“I’m meeting up with her later.” He flashes his cheesiest smile and my hands fist at my sides.

“I’ll be with my boyfriend later,” I say, and I sound so petty I want to kick my own self for going there.

“Babe. It’s official? You’re my girl?” My fake boyfriend says over a mouthful of lettuce.

I need to shut this down, pronto.

“Have fun with that, Queenie.” Spence salutes me and moves to the bar and I cringe.

What an epic fail.

“That dude is such a badass. Man, I’d love to watch him work and study his moves,” Rocco says, as he picks up another lettuce leaf and shoves it in his mouth.

Get in line, Mr. October. You and me both.

“Where do you stand politically?” I ask suddenly, because I need to keep this conversation going and I can’t handle talking about his body for one more minute. And if the only other thing he’s willing to talk about is Spence, then I’m tapping out early.

“I stand with the people.” He takes a sip of his rum and zero-calorie mixer.

“What people?”

“All of them?”

“You don’t have a party?” I ask, because I developed my political views at the young age of eight, when Dad and I attended our first rally in the city.

“I love a party.”

Oh, my shiitake mushrooms on a platter. There must be more in there.

“What party do you support? Red or blue?” Seems like Rocco will relate more to a color chart than big vocabulary words.

“My favorite color is fuchsia. My grandmother used to wear a lot of fuchsia.”

I nod. “Do you vote?”

“We aren’t allowed to. Against our policy at the firehouse.”

Now I’m enraged. That is most definitely not legal. “No one can take away your right to vote, Rocco. Who told you that?”

“No. It’s not like that. Chief wants to keep it fair. Otherwise, we’d all vote for ourselves.” He manages to chew lettuce like it’s the same consistency as a carrot and talk at the same damn time. His teeth are so white against his tan skin that they almost look neon in this lighting.

“For yourselves? What are you talking about?”

“Babe, you got to keep up. Aren’t you a lawyer?” He laughs and my jaw drops open. “The calendar. I was runner-up this year, but I’m training hard for next year. Mr. October will bring his girl the gold. Nothing can stop me and I won’t quit till I win it all.”

Would it be rude to ask him to quit talking? Because I really, really need him to or I can’t be held accountable for what I’ll do to him.

“I’ll try to keep up. I was actually talking about the presidential election.” Why do I even keep trying? I take another bite of chicken and glance over at Spence, as he pays his check and moves to his feet before leaving the bar.

“I don’t put my energy into what I can’t control. This,” he rubs his stomach and kisses his two biceps before looking back up at me, “I can control.”

“Listen, Rocco. This is not going to work out.”

“What? Where is this coming from?” He looks stunned. He can’t be stunned. We’ve already had this talk multiple times and we’ve only been out three times.

“It’s coming straight from my mouth.” I fold my hands together, put on my game face, and meet his gaze. I’m dead serious and he needs to know that.

Operation Forget Spence Taylor is not going to happen with Mr. October as my distraction.

“I’d like to put my cock in your mouth,” he says, and he dramatically licks his lips as if that will do the trick.

Oh, no, he didn’t.

I’m gonna attribute ninety percent of his obnoxiousness to alcohol and the fact that the man hasn’t eaten a carb since middle school, and that’s being generous.

“Yeah, you’ve really got to learn to read your audience, Rocco. When someone says it’s not working, you don’t pull out the dirty talk.” I move to my feet and drop a twenty on the table. It’s the least I can do.

“Babe. Tell me you don’t want this.” He stands and moves close to me before lifting his T-shirt to show off his bronzed abs as it’s his go-to move. But then he surprises me by grabbing his junk and thrusting three times.

Are you kidding me right now?

His sexy game is worse than his regular game.

This is a classic middle school move that I’m fairly certain my neighbor Robby Marani used on me before I punched him in the face. Mya is not going to believe this. Rocco is worse than her third POV sex-talking ex.

“I really, really don’t want it. But there are plenty of women that do. Take care, Rocco.”

“I can’t believe you’re breaking up with me.” He looks truly surprised, which makes it difficult not to laugh.

“It’s not a breakup. We barely know one another.”

“Babe, this is the longest relationship I’ve ever had,” he says, his eyes spinning hearts. It doesn’t faze me.

You don’t say.I bite my tongue because I’m not looking to humiliate the man. I just need this to be done.

“You’re Mr. freaking October. There are lines of women who would be dying to date you.” I smile up at him.

“That’s true. And you aren’t my typical type. Most girls sleep with me on the first date. But my girl was playing hide the cock-a-doodle-do, am I right?”

I laugh, because this just keeps getting crazier.

“You got me.”

He moves forward and wraps his arms around me. “I’ll miss you, babe. You don’t mind if I stay and hang out with those girls, do you? It’ll give me some closure. And all that cock talk has me worked up, you know?”

Am I being punked right now? How is this conversation happening?

“Goodbye, Rocco.”

He nods, and he moves toward the bar as I make my way out the door.

I’m so relieved to be out in the cool air. I’ve never broken up with someone that I wasn’t even dating before, but I finally relax.

I look up ahead and see Spence walking into his building.

And just like that, I’m tense all over again.