Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Nash
W alking into Stingers, for the third time this week—third time in the five days I’ve been back in town—I’m not exactly sure what my plan is.
I keep telling myself I’m here to see Jase, and finally have those conversations that are long overdue. Yet the moment I walk in and see her, I know that’s a goddamn lie. My gaze is drawn to her instantly—not that there are enough people in the bar for me to overlook her. Though it’s as if I’m unconsciously seeking her out the moment I step foot inside. Past the locals dancing about to the country music playing over the speaker or the groups of men sitting in booths tossing back shot after shot, Bailey stands out above the masses. It’s impossible not to notice her, and as I look around the room, I know I’m not the only one who agrees.
I’m realizing Stingers Tavern is a town staple. Regulars coming in for a drink and taste of comfort after their long workday seems to be the norm around here. Though more than just a dive bar, the live music and crowds joyfully dancing in the middle of the room adds to the ambience. Not to mention the aroma of real southern comfort food coming from the kitchen is insane.
Familiar faces greet me as I walk through the bar, not bothering to give me a second glance. After coming in for three days straight, it looks like I’m no longer a town phenomenon. Running a hand over my beard, I draw in a deep breath and continue my path toward her yet again, reminding myself I didn’t come here to see her. I’m here for Jase, who I’m sure is blatantly avoiding me.
The bastard has returned none of my calls, surely aware that I’m back in town. However, I’m determined to see this plan I have through. I won’t be leaving again without trying to make things right between us—the way I should have tried harder to do before I left in the first place.
If being back in Crossroads has taught me anything, it’s that I caused way more damage when I left than I’d realized.
I could have fought Jase on it. Shouldn’t have betrayed his trust to begin with and broken the unspoken code between brothers, a set of rules I knew better than to break. If I’d thought things through, he wouldn’t have been forced to ruin our friendship and throw away five of the best years of my life. Because believe it or not, I would have done the same thing if I were in his shoes.
The thought of him or anyone else doing to Monroe what I’d done to Bailey makes my blood boil in anger. Yet I did that to him. It’s why I never outright blamed him for the way he reacted or the things he’d said and did in the heat of the moment. Because I knew I deserved all that and more.
My gaze follows Bailey around the room as I make my way to the bar to order a drink. The slow and sensual sway of her hips as she makes her rounds. I’m fucking salivating as I watch the way her skin-tight blue jeans fit perfectly around her perky ass and thick thighs, and the sliver of smooth, milky white skin which peeks out from underneath her miniscule top. Even from a distance, I can see the toned muscle of her abdomen which proves she does more than just watch what she eats to keep her figure but works out to ensure her body is as tight as can be, and fuck me it’s paid off. The woman is unmatched.
However, Bailey’s been off for the last few nights or is simply doing everything she can to avoid me. I didn’t ask around about her, didn’t want to make it obvious that I can’t get the girl out of my mind, but I’ve heard my fair share of town gossip on Crossroads’ most eligible bachelorette.
Apparently, after Bailey suddenly went from prim and proper princess and became this sultry and sensual seductress, there was a lot of shit talking. Mainly because the most beloved girl in all of Crossroads, the epitome of a sweet and Southern Belle, had suddenly become someone entirely unexpected—a woman every other woman in town hoped to one day have the balls to become. They hated her for it. Resented her for having what it takes to do what she did, and give a big fuck you to all the cynics who lived to judge and criticize the choice she made.
On the other hand, every male over the age of eighteen was obsessed with her, including all the assholes in this bar who currently have their eyes on her and look fucking smitten.
I don’t blame them, but fuck does it make me want to shove my face into their smug faces. Trying my best to hold back, I grind my teeth together as I watch a group of burly old men at a table in the far left corner whisper to themselves as she passes them by on her way back behind the bar.
Bailey’s completely oblivious, or simply doesn’t give a fuck, about the way every male in the room has their lewd gazes on her and that perfect ass I want to sink my teeth into.
I’m mesmerized by the woman, completely caught off guard by the way my body, mainly the dick between my legs, reacts to just the sight of her. Then there’s that spitfire attitude she’s developed that surprised the hell out of me that first night. All it did was further fuel my desire to provoke her in order to watch the blaze in her eyes burn brighter.
“Look what the cat dragged in,” Lexi, the bartender who’s so graciously given me the boot for the past couple of nights, says the moment she spots me approaching them.
The girl’s grown sweet on me, though she pretends I’m nothing more than a nuisance. An incredibly sexy nuisance, if the fuck-me eyes I’ve caught her point my way on more than one occasion, are anything to go by. I may use it to my advantage, hoping she’ll eventually give in and give me the information I want on Bailey.
Meanwhile, I’ve actually gotten to know a little about her and how she ended up here working for Bailey. It’s true what they say about bartenders being the best people to talk to when you want someone to listen and not try to solve your troubles. Though I have shared nothing about why I’ve been in here all week.
Bailey’s body goes still, her back straightening and going rigid like she knows I’m the one Lexi’s talking about. Slowly, she turns to meet my gaze, giving me a perfect view of her incredible body and curves I damn near want to beg to feel beneath my fingers. Bailey King looks fucking delectable, and I want to trace my tongue over every single tattoo that shocked the fuck out of me when I first saw them splattered along her skin. Her hair is up in some sort of messy updo with a few wavy strands of gold hanging out that somehow only make her look sexier.
Yet it’s her eyes, bright blue hidden behind the dark eye makeup she wears, that stand out against her pale complexion. Bailey was always beautiful beyond comparison, but this woman what she’s become is sinfully sexy, and it completely throws me off my game.
How the fuck am I supposed to act nonchalant around her when all I want to do is bend her over the bar top and fuck her until neither one of us remembers the last ten years?
My dick strains in my jeans and I clear my throat, feeling it close up the longer I stare at her perfect tits and the cleavage showing over the dip of her top. Fuck, those tits are incredible. “Bailey, fancy seeing you here again,” I say, giving her my best smile.
Her shocked expression hardens, and she casts a frosty glare in my direction, no longer baffled by my being here, but reminded of how much she hates I am.
“I own the fucking bar, Bishop,” she snaps with a spark of fire, grabbing a bar towel and wiping the already sparkling clean counter just to keep her hands busy. “Not that you would know, since you’ve been gone all this time.” There it is again, her constant reminder of how long I've been gone. My smile grows at her purposeful dig that gives so much away.
Her plump lips turn into an adorable pout. “You sure love to remind me how much time I’ve been away, and you say you didn’t miss me,” I mock and fuck do I love the way it riles her up.
My dick strains even more against the zipper of my jeans when her cheeks grow a pretty pink flush. She bites her tongue and stops herself from saying what she really wants to say, instead deflecting and changing the subject.
“I hear you're the one hanging around my bar in hopes of seeing me.” She smirks, a little too sure of herself, but it’s fucking adorable to see. Though I can't let her get the wrong idea about why I’m here.
“I’m here for Jameson,” I tell her and immediately her confident smile drops. Back in its place is the scowl she’s perfected and seems to only have when I come around.
It’s really something, seeing how this new persona she seems to have taken on shifts back into the girl I’ve always known when I’m around. According to the same rumor mill, Bailey’s still the sweet girl she’s always been, unconditionally caring for and looking after the people of her town who turned their back on her. But with me, all she’s shown is this cold exterior she wants to make me believe is equally matched on the inside.
Throwing the towel over her shoulder, she moves over to the touch screen tablet mounted up on the wall and enters the total amount for someone's tab, printing out a receipt and slipping it onto a small, black clipboard.
“Well, my brother’s not in. Hasn’t been for four days now. So if you see him before I do, please, by all means, tell him I’m looking for him too.”
Bailey picks the pen out of her hair, and a mass of thick blonde waves delicately fall along her shoulders and down her back. It’s like the woman is moving in slow motion or I’m just that fucking entranced.
Running an eager hand through my hair, I look away, trying to regain my composure. I hear Lexi chuckle as she swipes the check and pen out of Bailey’s hand. “I’ll go take this to Jenkins.”
Bailey looks away from me and at her for just a second, but when her gaze flicks back to me, there’s something different in her eyes that wasn’t there a moment ago. The same desire coursing through my veins is visible in the blue depths of her irises as they trail up and down my body. She’s checking me out and isn’t even being shy about it. Either that or she can’t help the reaction her body has to my presence.
Bailey was never good at hiding the way my closeness made her feel.
The night we slept together for the first time wasn't the only time I almost gave into temptation and it sure as fuck wasn’t the first time I found out Bailey King had a crush on me. The girl could never hide the blush that crept up her neck when I came around, nor the giddy smile she got when I talked to her, unable to meet my gaze head on. I kept my distance as much as I could because I could see right through her and knew if I allowed myself, I’d get both of us into a boatload of trouble.
However, that night, Bailey caught me off guard when she slipped her dress off her shoulders and stood bare fucking naked before me. The vivid memory flashes in my mind and I have to reach out to the stool in front of me to steady myself as a burning need courses through me.
“Well, since I’ve already come all this way, how about a stiff drink to take the edge off?”
Just as she’s about to answer, Lexi walks back over and deposits the cash tip into the front pocket of Bailey’s waist apron. Bailey clears her throat and pretends she wasn’t just eye-fucking me, her cheeks turning the prettiest shade of pink when? I’ve caught her red-handed.
“Lexi here will get you what you need.”
“I doubt that,” I mutter under my breath, and her expression shifts from annoyed to intrigued. Flickers of curiosity spark within her and only further push me to continue toying with her.
“What was that?” she asks, raising a brow and placing a hand on her jutted out hip. My eyes lower to the curve of her hips that dips at her waist.
I let out a small chuckle because I know she heard me and is suddenly feigning innocence. It’s fucking adorable on her and reminds me so much of the girl I used to know. “I meant the drink for you, Angel. Looks like you could use a drink to loosen up.”
She furrows her brows in discontent. “I’m perfectly loosened up Nash, don’t you worry your pretty little head about me. Instead, why don’t you tell us, are you on your way out of town yet?”
My lips turn up with joy, enjoying this far too much to stop. Taking a seat on the stool in front of me, I lean forward across the bar, lowering my voice slightly so only she can hear me. Our faces are so close I can hear the soft hum of her unsteady breaths.
“Why? Are you already missing me?”
Bailey’s eyes widen at my brazenness, a soft gasp leaving her slightly parted lips. “Goddammit, Nash,” she shouts, trying to brush off her clear arousal that has her all flustered. “Can you just quit with the nonsense? Why are you here?”
By now we’ve garnered quite an audience. A few heads have turned our way, clearly waiting for the shoe to drop and whatever fiasco Bailey has in store. Settling back onto the stool, I give her a half truth. Being so close to her was intoxicating—the sweet scent of her perfume, the same one she’s always worn with hints of vanilla and citrus and something I can’t quite make out, nearly made me forget about the rule I set for myself.
Don’t fucking touch Bailey King .
One simple touch would be the gateway to becoming addicted to the sweet as sin angel. A complete juxtaposition, but one I completely understand. “Told ya, I’m here to help Monty fix up the ranch in order to sell it before my father’s debt catches up to us and we lose everything.”
I know that’s not what she’s asking, but I don’t have the answer she wants to hear, so I avoid her question altogether. Because truth is, I have no fucking idea why I’m here in her bar, standing across from her and having all these inappropriate thoughts about what I’d do to the woman if I so much as got my hands on her. I have no reason to be here, drooling over the sexy as fuck bombshell she’s become, and toying with her after everything I’ve done.
Yet I can’t get myself to walk away and leave her alone.
She rolls her eyes in exasperation, busying herself with stacking some clean glasses on the row of shelves at her waist level. “Not here in Crossroads? Although, I’m sure you could be helping Monty out from literally anywhere else.”
She pauses only to refill the glass of beer for the gentlemen to my left, who’s trying his hardest to pretend he’s not one hundred percent invested in our conversation. Setting the beer in front of him, she gives him a sweet smile while he whispers a soft thank you. The anger that bubbles inside me at the fact this fucker has done nothing to deserve her smile, yet here I am, getting nothing but her indifference or fury.
“Why are you here in my bar for the fifth time this week? And don’t you bullshit me again by saying you’re supposedly looking for Jase, because we both know he wouldn’t be happy to see you either.”
God, her sudden brazenness is fucking alluring and sexy as hell. The girl I knew would never be caught dead speaking to me or anyone in that way, yet here she is calling me out on my shit and not falling for a thing I’ve said to her.
“You're saying you’re not happy to see me, B.” I deflect, giving her the run-around I know she hates so much. Leaning back, I let myself indulge in the beauty of watching her so riled up. This woman is fucking dangerous. I don’t think I’ve smiled this much in the ten years since I’ve been gone.
She huffs out a deep breath, and it’s so goddamn cute. “God, you’re infuriating Nash, you know that?”
I simply nod in agreement. “I’ve been told a time or ten.”
Flipping her hair over her shoulder, she grabs two empty glasses and sets them before me. “Forget it, I don’t care,” she says, quickly putting together some fruity cocktail complete with a wedge of lime and one of those little decorative umbrellas. “Have your drink. Come here every day if you have to, but just steer clear of me Nash.”
I grab one drink out of her hands and bring it to my lips, licking the salt from along the rim and loving the way her gaze instinctively drops to my mouth. Though it’s not salt, it’s sugar, and when I take a sip from the rim, I cringe, immediately spitting it back out. Too fucking sweet.
“And why would I do that?” Fuck, I don’t know why I’m pushing her on this. I should do exactly what she says. Staying the fuck away from Bailey King if I know what’s good for me. Yet the small wrinkle that forms between her forehead, the same one I used to love seeing when she’d scowl at me when we were just kids, makes me want to keep the teasing going.
Unfortunately, I’m not able to because we’re interrupted when a tall, blonde and good-looking son of a bitch slides onto the stool beside me. The fucker slams a hand down on my shoulder, digging his fingers into me as he turns me around to face him.
Familiar icy blue eyes meet mine, so many questions, thoughts and feelings swirling inside them as they search for the same in me.
Why am I here? What have I come for? When will I leave?
Jameson King looks exactly the same as he did the last time I saw him nearly three years ago. Contrary to what I’m sure Bailey believes, things between her brother and me aren’t as black and white as she thinks.
“Nash fucking Bishop,” Jase says, releasing his grip on me just enough to pat me on the back. His hair is slightly shorter, a mess of loose dark blond curls, not the usual neatly combed mane he’s kept.
I bring my glass up to him in a salute. “In the flesh.” Jase doesn’t seem quite thrilled to see me, but I’m relieved at least his welcoming isn’t a fist to the face like the last time I saw him.
It was a coincidence he strolled into the bar I was currently occupying with a few of the guys from the Disciples crew. I had on their distinctive cut most people were smart to stay away from, but Jase hadn’t seen it when he threw a beer bottle at my head, following it up with an uppercut to the jaw. A full on brawl broke out, but I luckily put an end to it before things got completely out of control.
The Disciples aren’t men to be messed with and although I’m not officially a member, their crew is loyal and took Jase’s assault as a direct hit.
Jase scoffs, shaking his head in utter disbelief. “I didn’t believe Pete down at the barbershop when he told me you’d gone in for a cut. Thought the old fucker had finally lost all his marbles or his one good eye. I never thought I’d see the day when Nash Bishop returned to Crossroads.”
What he really means to say is I didn’t think you were stupid enough to come back to town.
“Yeah, well, neither did I. But some things you can’t run from.”
Bailey lets out a derisive scoff, annoyed her brother isn’t assaulting me and instead keeping a conversation. The sassy blonde turns away, stomping her heels on the way to the same back room I’m now certain is her office.
Something in Jase’s expression shifts as she walks away, and it throws me off completely. He’s not angry like I’d assumed he’d be, at least at first. Jase seems sort of sad. Like there’s something weighing down on him that frankly has nothing to do with me or the situation of our past revolving around his sister. I think about how Bailey seemed pissed he’s been gone for a few days and wonder if it has anything to do with that and the trip I remember Penny telling her he was on.
I’ve always been good and reading people, but it only further developed the longer I was away and on my own. Contrary to what Bailey seems to believe, the last ten years have been exhausting. From moving from town to town, to spending nights out in the middle of nowhere while on a job, I’ve been living life out on the open road with no true purpose—a true fucking outlaw up to no good.
“I heard about your dad,” Jase says, his tone low and unemotional as he rounds the bar, grabs a glass and pours me two fingers of whiskey.
I take the glass from him and take a sip, savoring the bitter taste but appreciating the subtle citrusy notes in this variety. Definitely better than the shit Bailey concocted that was nothing but sugar. “Yeah, well, that’s life.”
It’s odd to be standing face to face with a man who once knew everything about me, but now feels like a complete stranger. Ten years is a long time and somehow Jase doesn’t seem to be upset that I've returned, despite his threats of what would happen if I ever did. Maybe there’s a decade long statute of limitations and I’ve served my sentence. Whatever it is, I’m taking full advantage of the fact the man hasn’t shoved his fist into my face.
Or maybe he witnessed my interaction with Bailey and realizes there is no threat because his sister hates my fucking guts?
Jase serves himself a glass and throws it back all at once. “I know you guys haven’t had the best relationship with him, but…”
Bingo. That’s it—he found out my father’s dying and suddenly that’s enough punishment. I can see the unease in his expression as he refuses to meet my gaze. He doesn’t know what to say and I don’t expect him to say anything at all. Not about my father and how much it sucks that the bastard who’s hated me my entire life is on his well deserving deathbed.
I don’t say that. Afraid of sounding too much like a complete asshole telling him Franklin Bishop, taking his last breath, is a blessing in disguise.
So I go for a lie instead. “It still sucks, yeah I guess that’s true. Especially since he’s about to leave my brothers and I with a shit-ton of debt.” That part is true. I hate the bastard and the only thing keeping me from wishing he’d just cross over to the other side is the deep hole he’s left my brother and sister in. I don’t need the money from the ranch, neither do Beau nor Theo, who are doing pretty well on their own. But it’s Monty and Monroe who will be the ones affected by its loss.
Monty put the degree in architecture he earned online while raising Monroe to good use, and has made his own fortune, keeping whatever part of the ranch alive and building his own construction company from the ground up. Montgomery Builds is a well-established construction firm servicing the entirety of North Carolina down to the southern border of South Carolina. He’s kept busy working alongside Monroe, who takes care of all the design elements of the interiors of their builds, but the ranch was their home. I know Monty has always dreamed of one day returning to it and calling it his. He’s a good and true cowboy at heart.
“That bad, huh?” Jase asks, though I know he knows more about the situation than he’s letting on.
Bismarck King has his eyes, ears, and hands in every business in this town, and I’m nearly certain he’s had a hand in my father’s downfall. Not that Franklin, the deadbeat, alcoholic, gambler, doesn’t deserve what he's been dealt, but the deeper I look into the men my father owes money to, the more I see Daddy King's name pop up. The self-righteous prick who doubles as mayor has the entire town and his own family fooled, but I saw through the bastard the moment he offered me money to get out of town and never return.
“Not even close to bad. It’s fucking terrifying the amount of repairs, time and money it’s going to cost us to get the place back to a livable standard. On top of that, we have to make sure it all gets done and sold before the bastard croaks or else we lose it. There’s a lot of money he owes that will be taken out of the estate if we don’t put the deed under Monty’s name.”
Jase nods in understanding. “My pops mentioned it to me earlier this year. He’d heard Frank owed a lot of people money.”
Yeah, I’m sure he did. I finish up the whiskey and grab the bottle, helping myself to another drink. “That's why I’m here. There’s no way Monty’s gonna be able to salvage any part of the ranch to make it buyable without some help. Frank not only ran himself bankrupt, but the ranch itself is falling apart. Rotted wood, trash build up and junk everywhere. It’s fucking bad.”
Jase stiffens, his expression going bleak. I can see he’s suddenly anxious, shifting back and forth on his feet, and twiddling his fingers as he taps the counter. “So you’re not here because of her?” he asks nervously, and I can’t help but laugh at his expense.
The fucker was too scared to ask this whole time and instead feigned interest in my family’s tragedy.
I break out into a fit of laughter at his stupid insinuation, but his expression doesn’t change. All around us, the bar patrons watch us carefully, fully knowing there’s a history between Jase and me most thought was dead and buried. I’m sure it’s a novelty to see us here, making nice.
“Ten years, brother. You think I’d wait ten years to come and claim her if it’s what I wanted? Ain’t nothing you need to worry about on that front. Besides,” I say, when from the corner of my eye, I catch Bailey back out on the floor. She’s over at a table with a group of guys who just walked in and are ordering a round of drinks for the douche wearing an “It’s My Fucking Bachelor Party” sash.
The way his eyes dip low and take in Bailey’s figure in the dangerously enticing outfit she’s wearing makes me increasingly mad. Though, nothing like the way my blood boils when she twirls a strand of her hair between her fingers and gives the asshole a little wink before walking off with his order. Only to stop by another table and continue flirting with a different fucker, like she’s done every night I’ve come in here.
Her form grows stiff as she senses me watching her, and stops just before us, rolling her eyes and not bothering with a second glance. “Looks like she fucking hates me.” Jase chuckles in understanding.
“Yeah, and for good reason.” The voice comes from behind me, and there’s no way I wouldn’t recognize the snarky southern drawl in the woman’s tone.
My lips quirk up into a familiar smile. “Billie Cole,” I say, turning around to meet the fierce scowl on Bailey’s best friend’s face.
These two were as thick as thieves and as troublesome as it came when we were younger, though no one saw it but me. In front of everyone else, Billie Cole and Bailey King were innocent angels, the exemplary Southern Belle’s everyone was fooled into thinking they were.
I knew the rebellious side of them. The way they’d sneak out of their bedroom windows every Friday night and crash the parties my brothers and I threw. Then innocently sit in the church pews Sunday morning in their pretty sundresses, like they hadn’t been drinking the night away two days prior.
However, Billie was the rebel of the two and I’m pretty sure she’s the one who convinced Bailey to get into trouble more times than not. Aside from that, I’d heard they’d become friends with my little sister Monroe shortly after I skipped town. Billie and Monroe had always been friendly, and not that Bailey wasn't—just given our family history and the fact her family hated mine, left no opportunity for a friendship to brew between them. Not when Jase and I had such a difficult time keeping ours.
Besides, Monroe had a wild spirit unlike any I’ve ever seen. She was always unique as a little girl. Just as tough on the inside as she was on the outside, but that was the Bishop way. Growing up with four older brothers, there was no other way to be. She didn’t have a positive female role model to look up to, and after my mom walked out on us, she had no one. Being eight years older than her, Monty was the one who took on the role of guardian and gave her the father she had never had.
So, it’s no surprise that if Monroe hung around Billie and Bailey, her wild personality rubbed off on them. That much is obvious as I stare at the bright auburn and pink hair on the woman’s head covering the natural blonde. I take a moment to glance over the petite little thing and notice Billie’s full sleeve of tattoos, complete with a rose vine with thorns snaking up her right thigh that stands out under her short denim skirt, and looks oddly familiar to the one Bailey has wrapped around her shoulder.
“Nashiel Bishop,” she answers, her voice smooth as whiskey, but with a sharp bite, using the name she and Bailey gave me when they found out Nash wasn’t short for anything. Unlike my brothers, I was designated the four letter nickname at birth, and Nash is what’s written on my birth certificate.
Looking over at Jase, who looks awfully amused at Billie’s threatening stance, I can’t help but grin at the current scowl she wears, one she thinks makes her look dangerous only it’s sort of adorable given her size. I notice the similarity to the way Bailey looks at me. Like I have no business being back here. They’re both right, and as her eyes try their best to burn a hole through me, eliciting just a slight sizzle where they land, I know without a doubt Billie’s aware of exactly what happened between Bailey and me the night I skipped town.
Though, what they both don’t know is the King men gave me no other choice.