The Bad Boy of Bluebonnet (Bluebonnet #4.5)(21)
Author: Jessica Clare

Luanne answered on the first ring. “I can see the Spooky Squad vans in front of your house, and I’d like to say just one thing. If you’re calling me to tell me you’ve reconciled with That Man, as your sister, I love you and support you, but I’m not thrilled.”

Emily giggled. “Actually, I was wondering if Hank was busy.”

“Oh, he’s out playing patrol cop. It’s a quiet night. What’s up?”

“I seem to have a lot of uninvited guests at my house.”

Luanne made an excited squeal in the back of her throat. “Oh my God, can I please please please send him over to throw everyone out?”

“What are sisters for?”

Within an hour, Luanne had called Hank Sharp back from his patrol and sent him on to the Peppermint House, just in time for Emily and Jericho to pull up on Jericho’s motorcycle.

She waved at Hank as she pulled her helmet off.

When he approached, Hank gestured at her now-dark house. “You sure you want to do this? All the lights are off. They might be asleep.”

Emily looked at the Spooky Squad vans in her parking lot. “If I know my ex, they turned off the lights because they’re having a taping session against my wishes. The dark makes things more dramatic, you know.”

Hank adjusted the night stick on his belt. “All right. Want me to go in first?”

Emily shook her head and smiled at Jericho. “No, that’s my job.”

She went up the porch steps and pushed open her front door…and nearly tripped on a tangle of extension cords that crossed the threshold. Anger flared in Emily’s mind, but she forced it back. “Watch your step,” she said, familiar with this sort of thing. “Just like I thought, they’re filming and they have cords everywhere.”

They stepped carefully through the house, past scattered equipment that had likely been unboxed the moment Emily had left the house. Sure enough, she found Braden at the base of her attic stairs, just about to head up, a cute Spooky Squad assistant hovering close by. He had his EMF meter in hand and the assistant was filming with a handheld camera.

“Caught red handed, I see,” Emily said drily and flicked on the hall light.

Braden squinted in her direction, and then his gaze focused on the extremely tall police officer behind her. “Emily, what’s going on?”

“I’m getting the police to toss you and your crew out of my house,” she said, and was surprised at the vindictive thrill she felt saying those words. “I don’t want you back, I don’t want you here, I most certainly do not want you filming, and for the last time, I do not have ghosts. I had possums.”

“Nine of them,” Jericho added. He crossed his big, tattooed arms and looked rather menacing. She liked that.

Braden’s eyes narrowed. He rushed forward, pocketing his meter and waving aside his assistant. When he got to Emily, he tried to pull her aside, but Jericho stepped in front, blocking Braden’s view. That was sweet of him.

“It’s okay,” she told Jericho. “I’ve got this covered.” And she did, she really did.

“Please tell me you’re not kicking me out because of something this felon said,” Braden hissed at her in a low voice.

“I’m not,” Emily said easily. “I’m kicking you out because I asked you time and time again not to film here, and the only reason you’re here is not for me, but for your show. You’ve always put it above what I wanted, and this time, I’m getting what I want. And what I want is for you to get out.”

“You can’t make me,” Braden said. “My name is on the mortgage too!”

Hank stepped forward, all nearly-seven-feet of him. His stern face looked ominous even to Emily. “If I’m understanding Miss Emily correctly, you forfeited the house when you were divorced two years ago. Is that correct?”

Braden’s face flushed.

“If that’s so, then I imagine your contracts were amended and your name taken off the mortgage. Am I still correct?” Hank’s tone was mild but he placed a hand on the pommel of his nightstick.

Braden said nothing.

“Then I would assume you have no claim on this house anymore,” Hank said. “Now tell me again that you aren’t going to leave this house.”

“I’ll start packing,” said Braden’s assistant, her eyes wide.

“I thought so,” Hank said. “And I’ll just stick around to make sure you all don’t trouble Miss Emily.” He crossed his arms and stood in the hallway like a sentinel, waiting.

Braden looked back at Emily helplessly. “Please, baby—“

“Not your baby,” she said sweetly. “Not any longer.”

He scowled and stormed away, grabbing a camera off of a nearby tripod and beginning to dismantle it, shooting her glares as he did.

An arm went around her shoulders, and Jericho drew her against him. “That was awesome. I’m really proud of you.”

“I’m rather proud of me, too.” And she was. It was her house and her life, and she’d live it however she damn well wanted.

“It does bring up a point, though.”

She looked up at him, all tattooed and pierced and fierce and so utterly gorgeous. “What’s that?”

Jericho gave her one of those sultry looks that made her panties wet. “If you’re not going to be his baby, will you be mine?”

She turned and put her arms around his neck. “Abso-fucking-lutely.” And she pulled him down to her in a sweet, possessive kiss.

They were still kissing when Braden left.

The End