Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Nash
B ailey fucking King. A sinful woman in leather and lace. My fucking kryptonite.
Gone was the na?ve blushing girl who acted a fool anytime I looked her way, and in her place was a smoking hot bombshell with gorgeous blonde hair, devious blue eyes and curves that were made for rugged hands like mine to brand. And apparently a fuck you attitude she’d grown over night. Or at least in the last ten years since I’d seen her.
Since I’d taken what she so desperately and willingly gave me and never looked back.
I shouldn’t be standing here. I shouldn't have come to a place I knew I might run into her, but I couldn’t help it. When I heard her name back at the gas station convenience store, when some asshole was talking about the hot new owner of the bar down the road—a sexy babe with tattoos and an ass that looked damn good in leather pants—I had to come and see for myself. There was no way my sweet, innocent Bailey King was the same woman those assholes were talking about.
Yet here she was. In the flesh, standing just three feet away from me. They were right when they’d called her sexy as fuck babe who had a shit ton of tattoos—more than she’d had when I’d last seen her, which were none—and an ass that, fuck me, looked damn good in leather. Even behind the counter, I could tell those pants fit her like a damn glove, one I wouldn’t mind tearing off her with my bare teeth.
Bailey had curves, delicious and tantalizing curves that weren't there at eighteen, but damn if I didn’t want to feel every inch of them now.
Though it was the delicate black lace that peeped out from under her fitted tank that drove me crazy. The tops of her gorgeous, round and perky breasts looked fucking delectable and were tempting the fuck out of me. Her supple ivory skin was a stark contrast to the black lace, and the speckling of freckles across her chest made me ache to trace the patterns of constellations I had once memorized.
But I couldn't. That’s not why I’d come back. Not why I was once again stepping foot in Crossroads after swearing to never come back to the wretched town.
Ten years was all it took for the town who branded me a misfit to come calling. For him to summon me. My father—Franklin Bishop. The no-good son of a bitch was dying. At least according to my brother, Monty. That’s what he’d said when he got a hold of my new phone number from Beau.
Three decades of binge drinking, twelve of heavy liquor since the day my mama walked out on him, was all it’d taken to corrode his liver. I wasn’t going to come back. Hell, I couldn’t give two shits about what happened to the old bastard, but Monty sounded completely helpless when he’d called. Not because he gave a shit about the old man either, but because Franklin had run up a debt on the old ranch that would make us completely bankrupt if we didn’t run the books right and sell off the land before it was seized from him.
None of my brothers or my sister lived on the forty acre property. Monty and Monroe had been the only ones of my siblings to stay in Crossroads, but they’d moved off the ranch and closer into town the first chance they got. She was living with him since, as the oldest, he’d been the one to raise her when mama left.
Theo had taken full reigns of Nashville and was one of the hottest country singers of the century. Beau was out in California, currently running his own real estate development company, building and designing million dollar homes all along the west coast. Then there was me. I wasn’t amounting to anything newsworthy. I didn’t leave Crossroads by choice, though not that I’d have stayed much longer given the chance.
Some of us are just screw ups. We’re born that way and we die that way.
My siblings and I all received a small sum of cash when my grandfather, my mother's father, passed away. Though it wasn’t much, it was enough to set us up for a few years while we figured out what to do with our lives.
Personally, I invested it into a few businesses of a pal of mine whom I'd met down in Phoenix. My share more than tripled in the first two years and I was off to making a minimum of six figures from the various partnerships I’d made along the way.
They weren’t all legit by most people's standards, but it wasn’t technically dirty money either. I’d come across a club when I first went out to California to stay with Beau, about two years after I’d left Crossroads. Dexter, the club’s president, saved me from a nasty bar fight I’d had after nearly hooking up with some assholes' girlfriend. Not that I knew she was his girlfriend, since the girl was the one who’d come on to me. Regardless, the burly old fucker would have beaten the shit out of me if he hadn’t stepped in.
I ran with Prez, the name everyone called him, and his club, The Disciples, for a few years, though I made it clear I wasn’t looking for a permanent home. I was deemed the club nomad, grateful he liked me enough to allow me to tag along without the lifetime commitment the club required from its members. Maybe it was because he had his hands full with his sons, who were the next in line to take over leadership of the club.
The various jobs I did for The Disciples and a few other associates were my primary source of income.
After the first year, I refused to dabble in the club's major affairs, the more illegal dealings, and stuck strictly to the buying and selling of luxury merchandise, cars and other goods. The last year and a half I spent in Phoenix hunting down an exclusive painting commissioned for a high-ranking member’s girlfriend. The payout was more than I could have expected and set me up for the next few years, but on my way back to Arizona, I was just supposed to just pass through Crossroads.
Though, that’s when I got Monty’s call. I couldn’t ignore the desperation in my brother’s voice. I knew him, and knew calling me after I refused to ever come back to visit took everything in him, and was surely something his pride could barely look past.
How could I refuse him and leave him and my little sister to fend for themselves?
One reason I’d walked away from here was to protect them. To ensure they didn’t end up the fucked up rejects I had. I couldn’t just leave without trying. Even if it’d cost me everything.
The last ten years came and went with rarely a second thought about this god-forsaken place. Despite what most people believe, I didn’t immediately leave Crossroads after what happened between Bailey and I. The night we spent together I let the gorgeous girl seduce me into taking her virginity. The moment she’d asked, I thought I was dreaming, or had died and, for some dire misunderstanding, had gone to heaven. I refused her at first, pretending to be offended by the offer, but in reality there was nothing I wanted more than to make her mine.
Since the day I met her, I knew Bailey King was special. There was no one in the world as intelligent, kind, and ridiculously na?ve as the beautiful blonde-haired, blue-eyed angel. But from the moment we locked eyes, I knew she’d never be mine. An innocence like hers should never be tainted. She was pure and angelic, and I was as corrupt as they came.
For years I steered clear of her, which wasn’t easy given I was best friends with her older brother, but I kept as much distance as I could between us. She was younger than us, only two years, but for Bailey, who’d been sheltered her whole life by her conservative, Christian upbringing, it felt like a lifetime between us. My playful teasing would rile her up and I’ll admit it was entertaining, to say the least.
Jase used to give me shit about how I was torturing the poor girl, who he claimed was in love with me, but I refused to believe it. Although it was embarrassingly obvious she harbored a huge crush on me.
I knew she’d one day outgrow it. Girls like Bailey King crushed hard and often. I was convinced her so-called crush would soon become something of the past she’d look back upon when reminiscing about the foolishness of her youth. I was her dirty secret. The rebellious bad boy, her parents, and everyone in town told her to steer clear of for her own good, which only made me more appealing.
Though I was too selfish to let the girl save herself. I took what she so freely offered, even if deep down I knew I’d regret it for the rest of my life. Not because I didn't want it, because trust me, there’s nothing more I craved than the feel of her lips on mine, her body under me as I tasted every inch of her decadent sweetness. However, when all was said and done and I finally came to my senses, it was too late. I’d claimed her as my own, ruined her for anyone else, and I knew that would be my death sentence.
Soon after, I realized the major fuck up, but there was nothing left to do about it. I told her it was a mistake, that I never should have taken advantage of her and asked her, more like demanded, she left. Eyes brimming with tears, she ran out of my room—a shitty hole I lived in behind my parent’s main house—and into the uncharacteristically warm summer night. I chased after her, only to ensure she would make it back to the party or home safely, but I didn’t make it past the front door before Jameson King blocked my path.
My best friend discovered what I’d done, and to say he was royally pissed was an understatement. Jase looked angrier than I’d ever seen him, but it was the disappointment and disgust that was etched into his expression that felt like a knife to the gut.
Mind you, I’d just used the same one to stab him in the back. He’d never outright asked me to stay away from his sister, but it should have been implied. That night I not only took advantage of Bailey, but I ruined my friendship with Jase. He’d called me all sorts of colorful names and threatened me with telling his father, a man who already needed no excuse to hate me, about what I’d done to his precious daughter. He’d demanded I leave Crossroads, something I always bragged I’d do, only I never expected being forced out, exiled.
Yet that’s exactly what Jameson King did.
Saying nothing to anyone, not that anyone would care, I packed what little I had into a duffle bag and mounted my bike, intending to ride off into the night and never looking back. Though before I could escape, Bismarck King met me outside my door. I was angry at Jase for not even giving me the opportunity to leave before following through with his threat, but Mayor King admitted he knew exactly what happened the moment his daughter ran sobbing into her bedroom.
My encounter with Mayor King went just as you’d expect. The man hated me since the day I showed up unannounced to his home and threw their entire family into awkward chaos because their son was best friends with the son of the enemy. The rivalry between the Kings and the Bishops, the royal family and the scum of the town, was known in all of Crossroads. Although the truth of how the hatred between the two patriarchs began was as much of a mystery to me as it was to everyone else, there was no doubt it ran deep.
Which is why it was no surprise the same threats came from the mouth of Bailey’s father. Only his threats were not to be taken lightly. The entire town of Crossroads was besotted with the self-righteous fucker and deep down, I truly think even he believed he was a good man. However, if what my father used to tell us about the patriarch of the King Family had any truth to it, the man was as crooked as they came. Not that Franklin had anything to stand on against him.
From an early age, my brothers and I were labeled as trouble. No good, mischievous rebels who deserved the hell they lived in. Franklin was a deadbeat, while Delia was as neglectful as expected from a woman who’d gotten pregnant at eighteen by a man fourteen years her senior. It was no surprise she fled the relationship the first moment she could, although it was twenty years and five kids later.
I never had the urge to come back home, but now that I was here, I couldn’t just stand back, lurking from the outside. I needed to see her.
“Nash Bishop,” Oliver Wood, an old classmate of mine from Crossroads High, says as he pats me on the shoulder and slides into the seat next to mine. “It’s good to see you.”
This is what I was afraid of. Ten years and at the first chance, this town is going to remind me exactly why I didn’t hesitate to leave it.
“Oliver, wish I could say the same.” There’s an audible gasp from the woman behind the bar, a pretty young girl I don’t recognize, who probably has no idea who I am or the kind of guy I am—someone who’s never cared what people think of him and who is definitely not going to start now.
“Yikes, looks like you’re not in a good mood after your encounter with the not so sweet Bailey King.”
Oliver’s comment gets my intention. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I nearly growl.
Conversations in the bar once again come to a halt the way it did when I first walked in. Only the low hum of the music heard in the background. I take a moment to take in the room, something I hadn’t done when I first arrived since I was too distracted by a beautiful woman in leather. The bar is a large and open room with about twenty booths lining the exterior of the room and another ten on either side of the large dance floor. The floor is a deep oak hardwood that matches the color of the tables and other wooden furnishings. A pleasant contrast to the emerald-green leather seats, gold trim, and various paintings and memorabilia hung up on the walls. The bar is on the right side of eclectic with a hint of southern charm.
Oliver speaks, reminding me he’s still here. “Bailey King, the sweet, pretty little thing she once was is now a smoking hot babe with an attitude problem and a long list of men who are willing to do anything for a second of her time.” My blood runs scorching at his insinuation that he is one of those men.
“Keep talking shit like that if you want my fist shoved so far up your ass, it’ll knock out your fucking teeth.”
The fucker's eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets as all the blood drains from his face. “Woah, woah there, Bishop. I didn't mean to. Sorry man, I didn’t think you and Bailey were still…” He stutters and I know he’s damn near shit his pants. I may have been a troublesome punk when I left, but it’s nothing compared to the ruthless man I’ve become.
Ten years is a long time, and the life I lived during, was more than gossiping over sipping beers in a bar after a long day tending the ranch my daddy gave me. I slept in alleyways, got into more brawls with the men who claimed I stole from them more times than I could count. The scary fuckers I dealt with daily would make Oliver Wood, and every guy like him, drop to their knees and suck their cocks as he begged for mercy.
“Still what?” I ask, having interrupted him.
“Well, everyone knows you broke her heart when you left. The poor girl was in love with you and was a complete mess after you left. It was a tremendous shock to everyone when suddenly the Bailey we all knew was gone and this new version of her was covered in tattoos and a body built for worshiping. In all honesty, it wasn’t a surprise she reinvented herself after everything she went through. You would have loved it. Mayor King and his wife lost their shit.”
“Look Olly, I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume your fucking stupidity is the effects of having your head bashed into multiple times on the football field in high school.” I turn to face him, leaning forward so my scowl is at level with his stupid smirk. “You watch your fucking tongue, Oliver. People like you are exactly what's wrong with this fucking town, spreading bullshit about shit they know nothing about. You wouldn’t dare talk about Bailey like that to her face, so don’t fucking act all tough and keep her name, and mine for that matter, out of your goddamn mouth.”
My scolding gets the attention of more people than I’d hoped.
The idiot stands frozen, with a stupefied look on his face. Serves him right for running his mouth about shit he knows nothing about. He should be grateful that all I did was berate him and not make good on my threat to kick his fucking ass for the way he talked about her in front of me. Not that I fucking care about what happened to Bailey after I left, but no man should talk about a woman in that way—like she’s a fucking piece of meat. It pissed me the fuck off to see the lust in his eyes when he spoke of her.
“Nash Bishop,” the young girl behind the bar, Alexis as it says on the name tag clipped to her shirt, says as she nervously approaches me. She’s cute. Light brown hair and big brown eyes shoot wide as she blinks rapidly, looking between Olly and I.
I collect myself and wink at her, trying to lighten the look of utter terror that flashes in her eyes. “In the flesh, darling.” Olly scoffs and takes the opportunity of my distraction to walk away.
Alexis straightens her back and clears her throat before she continues, seeming a bit more sure of herself. “Sorry, but the boss says I’m to close out your tab, charge you extra for taking up space in her bar, and ask you to, in her words, “ get your ass out of my bar ”.”
I can’t help but laugh, picturing Bailey with her hands resting on her jutted out hip as a pretty little scowl crosses her lips. “Lexi, sweetheart. Can I call you Lexi?”
“It’s Alexis,” she replies without an edge of humor. Bailey trained her well.
No doubt Bailey hired this girl for good reason. She doesn't seem like the type to take any bullshit. I stand, leaning forward to rest my hands across the bar as I look Alexis in the eye. “You tell your boss, if she wants me out, she can come tell me herself.”
From the corner of my eye, I catch sight of something flickering in the right corner or the room behind Alexis. A camera is perched up at the corner, a white light shining while a red one flickers to alert it’s most likely on and recording. Looking directly at it and into the eyes of Bailey, who is surely watching intently from somewhere in her office, I wink and blow her a kiss.
“Look, Nash,” Lexi says. “You seem like a reasonable guy. I don’t know you, but given the looks you’ve gotten from everyone in the room, not to mention the earful you got from B, I’d assume you have a history here. Don’t be an ass and make me have you escorted out.”
This woman’s got grit, something I’m told Bailey has learned in the time since I’ve last seen her. My sweet angel owns a bar for fucks sake. She’s got tattoos and an attitude that made me weak in the knees, even though I know better than to get involved. I’m here for a short time, not a long time, and I’m not looking for a good time, though I know that’s what it would be to once again feel Bailey’s skin under my fingers. The curves she’s grown into, the smart mouth and sweet pout she gave me as I watched her walk away from me with an extra sway in her hips.
The girl was dangerous at eighteen, but at twenty-eight, she’s goddamn lethal.
I meet Lexi’s bewildered gaze as she tries to figure out what my next move will be. She won’t figure it out because I don’t have a fucking clue what to do about it. For one, I should listen and head back the way I came, avoiding ever running into Bailey or any of the Kings again. Though?, I want nothing more than to push the woman to see how much she’s really changed or if she’s still the girl I used to know. That is the more dangerous route, but if there’s one thing I’ve done the past ten years, it’s chase the thrill of danger.
Which is why I choose the latter. “I like you, Lexi, so I’ll make it easy on you and listen.” I shift my gaze away from her and back up to the camera pointed at me. “You tell your boss I’ll be back. She owes me another drink.”