The Bold and the Bullheaded by Willow Aster

Chapter Two

Emma

I almost didn’t come up here when Jesse suggested we crash his brothers’ place for pizza. My run-in with Spence Taylor earlier—in the elevator, no less—has me feeling a little more on edge than usual. That man is the epitome of annoyance. I hoped he’d be gone by the time I got here. Which makes no sense, but one can dream. I haven’t had much time to hang out with Mya due to a big case that I’m finally leading. Monday will be the first official case that I’m handling alone and I’ve worked overtime for weeks to make sure I get it right. Tonight’s the first night I feel like I’ve prepared enough, and I need to unwind before I lose my mind.

“You know, for someone who hates me so much, you sure seem to come around a lot.” Spence stares at the television while he spews his ugliness.

He’s so predictable.

I study his profile.

The man is so good-looking, it infuriates me. Strike one. Thick, dark wavy hair begging to be tugged and ocean blue eyes that are perpetually scowling at me, yet manage to see into my soul every time we’re alone. Strike two. And don’t even get me started on his body. My thighs clench together every time I look at the cocky bastard. He’s tall, chiseled, arrogant, and uptight. So delicious that being in his presence is painful. Strike three.

I don’t do feelings, and when I’m around Spence, I feel all the things. This guy has so many strikes against him, he’s completely out of the ballpark.

“I’m not going to explain myself every time I come hang out with my best friend. Perhaps you should check yourself at the door if you think everything is about you. I can assure you, that is not the case.”

He turns to face me and his eyes go ice cold, the color of hell freezing over. I square my shoulders because I know what I’ve said has made him mad. I’m prepared for whatever he wants to throw my way. Hell, I’ve been wearing armor my whole life … bring it on, Spence Taylor.

“I think it’s more about me than you want to admit. Never would have taken you for a coward.” He smirks. Smirks. Like he’s got it all figured out. He doesn’t have a damn clue.

I push to my feet, needing space from the man. He makes me … uncomfortable. Agitated. Irritated. Horny.

Where did that come from?

Hey, I can despise the man and still think he’s sexy. I’ve got eyes, and a working vajazzle, so obviously it’s possible.

“Keep feeding that ego until your head’s too big to fit out the door,” I hiss as I walk past him. My legs brush against his and my mouth goes dry.

I definitely need space.

“That’s all right. I’ll just use your high-powered bitchy broomstick to force my way out.” He laughs and I cover my mouth with my hand because I will not give him the satisfaction of knowing that every now and then he can actually pull off a joke.

I move to stand in the kitchen by my best friend. This apartment is larger than Mya and Jesse’s as it’s a three-bedroom, and the layout makes it easy to have a group of people here, but somehow I still feel like the walls are closing in around me with the ice dog near.

That whole saying—keep your enemies close—is not true when it comes to this man.

“Hey, I’m going to head out. I’m tired.” I reach for my purse. I’m in a foul mood now, just like I always am after I see Spence Taylor. But I’m a masochist and I keep coming back for more torture.

“What? No. Are you sure? We can leave and head downstairs,” Mya says, covering my hand with hers.

“Don’t be silly. I want to go make sure Dad had dinner. He’s probably still working.” I grab my jacket off of the chair and say goodbye to Jesse, Caden, and Gus.

“Always a pleasure,” Gus says as he pulls me into a hug. The man would flirt with a corpse, it’s just his nature. But I don’t miss the way Spence’s gaze locks with mine when I glance in his direction.

“Don’t forget your hat,” he yells out.

I frown.

“The black pointy one that goes with your broomstick.”

I pretend to laugh and then go stone cold. “Don’t forget that there are support groups for assholes and they’re always looking for new members.” I hug Mya and everyone laughs. It wasn’t my best work, but it’ll have to do.

Once I’m out of the building, I can breathe again. I decide to walk the five blocks to where I live, because the breeze has died down and it’s actually a perfect night for a walk. The streets are busy with people moving in every direction carrying their pumpkin lattes, and it smells like Fall.

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.