Page 4 of Bringing Home the Bad Boy

I stop, meeting his gaze head-on. "I don't like to repeat myself. So I won't."

His eyes narrow further, a flicker of something dangerous passing through them. "Fine," he says after a tense moment. "Just make sure Noel's not on your agenda. She's not interested, no matter how much money you throw around."

"You speak for her?" His eyes dart away before returning defiantly. No way is he speaking for Noel. If she had a problem with me, she'd tell me herself. "I didn't think so."

"I look out for my own," he replies, his voice low. "Just know that I'll be watching."

"Watch all you want. You'll find nothing but reasons to thank me once Arrow picks up and starts bringing in jobs. Jobs that mean more families and more cash flowing through your community. Think about that while you're watching."

We stand there for a moment, the cold seeping into our bones, neither of us willing to break first. Finally, Lowe steps aside, his gaze hard and unyielding. I walk into Big B without another word, but the store's warmth can't thaw my ice. The encounter left a bitter taste in my mouth. I grab the items I need and go, no longer in the mood for holiday decor. I wish I were on my bike, the adrenaline and cold air helping to clear my head. The roar of the engine, the sting of the wind—that's what I need right now.

When I get home, the sun is dipping low beyond the yard. I park the pickup and slam the door behind me. The house is quiet, too quiet. I toss my jacket over the back of a chair, running a hand through my hair to diffuse any lingering anger. It's been a long damn day, and I'm still pissed—at Lowe, at myself, at the whole damn situation.

"Daddy?"

Her small voice cuts through my turmoil like a beacon. I turn, and there she is—Jelena, my little girl, standing in the living room doorway. Her big brown eyes are full of curiosity and mischief, and her long, dark curls bounce around her face.Damn, Lowell straight to hell. I was supposed to pick up the gingerbread house supplies. She is not about to let me forget it.

"Hey, jelly bean," I say, a genuine smile tugging at my lips. I scoop her into my arms, enjoying her giggles and her tiny arms around my neck. Her warmth and innocence centers me in a way nothing else can.

"I missed you," she pouts, her lower lip jutting out adorably.

"Missed you more," I reply, peppering her face with kisses until she squeals with laughter. Her joy is infectious, chasing away the remnants of my anger. "Were you good for Auntie Rosalee?"

She nods vigorously. "We made cookies."

"Did you save me any?"

"Maybe," she teases, her eyes sparkling. She looks around. "Where's the gingerbread stuff? We need it tomorrow."

"I know Jelly Belly. Sorry, I forgot. I'll get it and bring it back in the morning. I promise." Thankfully, she just nods. Christmas is too distracting for her to focus on one thing. She's already made me swear we'll get a tree—just like in the movie—on Saturday. We could never fit one in our old apartment. I hated to deny her then, but I'd held a miser's grip on every penny until I set up Arrow Trucking.

I set her down, watching as she darts back toward the kitchen. Rosalee appears in the hallway, carrying a grocery bag. Her long dark hair is pulled back into a braid, and a tired but warm smile is on her face.

"Here, let me help with that," I say, taking the bag from her. "I was going to get the rest when Jelena jumped me."

"Were you," she laughs, adding, "And who jumped who?" We move to the kitchen, and begin unpacking.

"Everything go okay today?" I ask, glancing at her.

"Yeah. Jelena was an angel, as usual." I give her a look at that characterization before we grin. We both know Auntie Rosa would never say anything different.

"Good to hear." I pause, then add, "I appreciate you being here, Rosa. I don't know what I'd do without you. What I would have done without you." I don't tell her enough. But being here, uprooting our lives, charting a new future, makes it clearer.

She smiles. "We're family. We take care of each other."

An awkward silence settles between us. There's so much unsaid, so much history and pain. Trick, her husband, was killed in an accidental shooting. Six months later, Marisol, my sister, and her best friend was murdered. Losing both of them two years ago and so close together nearly broke us. Rosa moved in to help with raising Jelena, my sister's daughter. I felt guilty for sticking so much responsibility on Rosa, but she begged to help. Said she needed a reason to go on. She's been with me every since.

"Bandit called earlier," Rosalee says after a moment. "He wants to talk to you."

I roll my eyes, a wry smile forming. "Of course he does." Bandit, ever the overprotective brother. "I'll give him a call."

She hesitates. "He's just... concerned."

"I know." I place a hand on her shoulder. "I'll handle it."

She nods, her eyes meeting mine briefly before she finishes putting away the groceries. "Hey, where's the gingerbread items?"

"Getting them in the morning," I call over my shoulder, retreating to my study. I sink into the leather chair, rubbing a hand over my face. The confrontation with Lowe replays in my mind. Asshole got me in trouble with both my ladies. I hope Noel won't be the third.

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