Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Bailey
W e’ve been living together for over a week and neither one of us has ended up dead yet. It’s still early and I’m not making any promises, but things haven’t looked so bad. I call it a win so far.
Maybe it is the fact I’ve avoided him as much as I can, spending most of my mornings at HoneyBees and my nights at Stingers, locked up in my office, letting Jase man the bar for once. There’s no avoiding him tonight. I’ll be home and I’m sure at some point he’ll be here, too.
I took the day off to mentally prepare for being back at my parents' house. Tonight’s their much awaited anniversary party but for me, it’s just another day I’ll be forced to play nice with the people of Crossroads who still have it out for me—my parents' congregation. The group of judgmental creeps who always had so much to say to me when they saw me around town are going to be lit up tonight when they see me in the dress I’ve chosen for the occasion. And it’s not the one my mama gave me.
Unlike the bland beige dress my mama chose for Brynn and me, or the replacement she got me thereafter, the dress I bought —with the help of Monroe and Billie, of course—is exquisite. Fire engine red silk, fitted in all the right places with a floor-length skirt that has a high slit on one side. I’ve paired it with my favorite pair of black heeled boots and a leather jacket to cover the tattoos they all love to judge.
I accessorize the look with some of my favorite mixed metal chains over my neck and matching rings on almost all my fingers. My gold hoops hide behind my blowout waves, and I’ve gone for bold lips with a cool-toned red lipstick and more subtle eyes with a soft shimmer and winged liner.
Fluffing my hair in the mirror, I let it cascade down my back in a blanket of gold. Last time I was at the salon, my hairdresser Sally called it old money blonde after I showed her the photo I’d pulled off the internet for inspiration.
Content with the way I look, I step out of my room, not expecting anyone to be home, and run straight into a hard wall of muscle as Nash turns the corner toward the guest bathroom.
“Shit,” I yelp as I nearly twist my ankle in the boots. Excruciating pain shoots up my leg and threatens to knock me to the ground if I don’t hold on to what’s in front of me. “Oh fuck,” I gasp. Scratch that, I definitely sprained something.
Nash’s hands fly to my waist to hold me up as my leg gives out on me and my body nearly folds in half. “Woah, there, B. Take it easy,” he says, trying his best to hold me without forcing his hands in places they have no business being. “Let’s get you over to the couch.”
Lifting my head as much as I physically can, I look over at the couch, which looks so far away, and urge him to take me back into my bedroom instead. “No, my bed. Please take me to the bed.”
He chuckles, the deep, daunting sound making me increasingly aware of how close he is. “As you wish, Angel.”
Realizing what I said and the way it sounded, I reach out to flick his arm but groan as my foot touches the edge of the bed. “Oh God,” I cry out and this time when Nash laughs harder, I smack him upside the head, clearly understating his insinuation. “Shut it, Bishop, or I’ll kick you with my good one.”
As he sets me down on the edge of my mattress, I look up at him for the first time in days, immediately regretting it when my breath gets caught in my throat. His eyes are bluer than ever under the soft gleam of light coming in from my bedroom window. It’s still light out, but the blackout curtains I keep in here make the space feel darker than it is.
He grins, noticing the way my eyes drink him in. “Just teasing you, B.”
I momentarily flick my gaze away from him and back to the throbbing on my ankle. “What are you even doing here?”
He releases his hold on me for a moment, enough to walk over to turn on the bedroom light, and I must say as he walks with his back to me and those dark blue jeans fitted tight around his ass, all sorts of things happen inside me.
“We had some pipes burst as we were fixing the plumbing in one of the downstairs bathrooms. Dirty water everywhere. I figured I’d take a break and head over here for a shower while Monty went out to the hardware store for the rest of the supplies we need.”
My gaze drops and I suddenly notice his white T-shirt is soaked and clings to his hard, muscular torso, the dark ink on his skin visible through the nearly transparent fabric.
Nash follows my gaze to his chest and reaches a hand behind his neck. In one slow and steady tug, that makes it almost seem as if he’s moving in slow motion, his shirt up and off his shoulders.
I don’t berate him for being shirtless in my room. I can’t when my mouth goes completely dry as I take in every ridge of tan muscle that flexes as he breathes.
“Where are you off to in such a hurry anyway?” he asks as he lowers to his knees before me.
My heart beats rapidly in my chest at the gesture, which looked way more erotic in my head than it was, as he continues to move in slow motion. Long, careful fingers reach for the zipper of my boot, careful not to touch my skin. He quickly unzips it and shimmies it off my foot. I’m completely mesmerized as I watch him work so delicately as to not hurt me.
Unable to think straight, I blink rapidly, turning away from his naked chest and remembering the horrible pain I’m in. My hands clutch the comforter beneath my fingers, and I bite my tongue to suppress the scream I want to let out.
“It’s my parents' anniversary dinner.” I answer his earlier question, though for a moment he looks confused, like he forgot what he asked me. Maybe he’s just as distracted as I am.
Nash looks up at me through thick dark lashes, his face suddenly blank at the mention of my parents. I know he and my dad never got along, so it’s no surprise he’s not eager to hear about them or their celebration.
The moment my foot comes into view, my boot falling to the ground with a soft thud, I can see the bold swelling around my ankle. The skin looks red and raw and hurts just as bad as it looks.
“Yup, it’s sprained,” he says, looking down at my swollen ankle. He softly presses his thumb into the raw skin and it sends a sharp sting of pain through me.
“Fuck, don’t touch it, Bishop,” I cry out, throwing my head back in agony.
“I need to check that it’s not broken.” He sounds almost apologetic, but I’m in too much pain to not give him some sassy remark.
“So what, you're also a doctor now?” Realizing I’m acting like a total bitch when he’s only trying to help, I shrug off my unease at his closeness. Trying not to focus on how good his touch feels, I apologize for my tone. “Sorry. It’s fine. I’ll ice it when I get back. Now put my shoe back on so I can get out of here.”
He quickly jumps to his feet but doesn’t put my boot back on like I asked. “Great. Let me grab another shirt and I’ll take you down to the hospital.”
I straighten up and try to stand, though I let out another shriek and fall back onto the bed when my foot touches the floor. “Oh no, no, no. You’re crazy.”
Nash scoffs, incredulous. “What? You don’t want me to put a shirt on? Bailey, I think poor Maggie down at the reception desk is going to have a stroke if she sees all of this.”
I roll my eyes at his exasperating personality that drives me mad. “Asshole, that's not what I meant. I mean, so I can get to my parent’s dinner which I am already so late for. You're crazy if you think I'm going to the hospital.”
His brows furrow as the playfulness in his eyes fades to nothing but seriousness. “Bailey, you need medical attention.”
“I’m going to need a coroner if I don’t get my ass to the King Estate in the next five minutes.”
Not content with my answer, but also too visibly exhausted to fight me, Nash has no choice but to drop it. “Suit yourself.”
“Thank you.” Though he doesn't slip my boot back onto my foot like I thought he would.
Unbuttoning his jeans that are already sitting dangerously low on his hips, giving me the perfect view of the V-shape that disappears into the waistband of his boxers, he heads to my bathroom.
“Give me five minutes to take a shower and I’ll drive you.”
“What?” I shriek, a lot more high pitched than I expected. “There’s no way you’re going to drive me up to my daddy’s ranch.”
“What are you, twelve?” He asks, clearly not amused. “I’ll pretend to be the Uber driver.”
“Ha, that won’t fool anyone. You drive a fucking motorcycle.”
“Then we’ll take your car.”
Not the worst idea he’s had tonight, but no, it definitely won’t work. “No, I’ll just put on some flat shoes, and I’ll be fine to drive.” I try to stand again, but the moment my foot touches the floor, I nearly fold over and hit the ground in pain. “Oh, fuck me, that hurts.”
Nash rushes to my side in an instant, his arms back around me before I can even finish screaming. Strong hands hold me up by my waist, fingers digging into me as he lifts me back into the bed and settles between my open legs. Slowly, he folds one leg back, my dress hiking up my leg as he does, settling in a scrunched up mess on my upper thigh.
Warm, calloused fingers caress the soft skin of my calf down to the swollen, tender skin around my ankle.
“This is how it’s going to go,” he says, with no hint of humor in his tone. The hard muscles in his jaw flex as his gaze lowers to my chest and the incredible amount of cleavage this dress gives me. It was one reason I bought it. It makes my tits look good. Tits I know he enjoys staring at since I’ve caught him plenty of times glancing down my top. He slowly leans forward enough for me to smell the hint of sweat mixed with his fading cologne. “I’m going to take a quick shower. Five minutes tops. I’ll throw on some clean clothes and drive you to your parents' little dinner. You’ll tell them you’re injured, show them your clearly swollen foot, and I’ll drive you to the hospital.”
“But,” I complain, but he shushes me with a long finger against my lips. The urge to stick my tongue out and lick it is so strong, but I clench my teeth to hold back.
“Or we go to the hospital now and your parents can eat without you. It’s your choice, Angel.”
I swallow the lump forming in my throat at the pure, carnal need this man incites within me. The way he’s so close to me yet still so far away makes me want to reach for the shiny silver chain around his neck and pull him in closer to me, only to crash my lips to his in a fervent need.
“I’ll call someone to come and get me,” I whisper so low I’m not sure he can hear me. The corners of his lip turn up and I clear my throat, swallowing away my lustful thoughts. “Or take an Uber.”
Nash runs both hands through his hair in exasperation, tugging at the semi overgrown strands up top. The muscles in his arms strain as thick veins wrap around in a thorn like pattern. His Adam's apple throbs as he swallows back the desire coursing through him when his eyes once again meet mine.
“Goddammit woman, you’re infuriatingly stubborn.”
I let my eyes move lower to the fabric along his crotch and fuck me, it was the wrong decision. I can see the growing bulge straining against the zipper of his jeans, and I’m nearly salivating. “Yeah, well, you're infuriatingly bossy.”
His smirk continues to tease me as he lowers his hands and steps closer to me, fitting perfectly between my open legs. I’m stuck in the same position he left me, unable and unwilling to move. “Oh, you ain’t seen bossy yet, Angel.”
Straightening up, I tug my dress down while his eyes fixate on the visible skin of my legs. “I’ll call someone to come get me. Though everyone’s already back at the house.” I whisper the last part to myself.
He gives me a look that screams I told you so, and it’s annoyingly sexy. Why the hell is everything he does so fucking sexy?
Trying to distract myself from his allure, I open my phone to find two unread text messages from just a few minutes ago. The first one’s from my little sister and I can almost hear it read out to me in her voice.
Brynn: Bailey! Where the hell are you? Don’t you dare ditch me and leave me here all alone!
I notice Brynn’s message came in a group chat we have with Billie and Monroe.
Monroe: Yeah, B. We texted you twenty minutes ago, and you said you were on your way out.
I type up a quick response, letting them know what happened, yet trying not to freak them out at the same time.
Me: I had a little emergency. Sprained my ankle on my way out of my bedroom.
I look back at Nash and find him hovering over my shoulder, reading my texts, so I decide to fuck with him.
Me: Crashed into some idiot who lives in my home.
The replies trickle in almost instantly.
Monroe: Oh my God, are you okay?
Brynn: Do you need us to go get you? Please say yes!
Billie: You’re telling me you fell into the arms of Nash Bishop? Lucky bitch.
Nash laughs as he continues to intrude on my private conversation.
Me: More like I fell into the arms of the devil because he was lurking outside my bedroom like a creep.
Me: And no, Nash said he’d drive me.
Monroe: Nash is coming? Bailey, are you crazy?!
Yeah, I might be. Maybe somewhere along the way I hit my head without knowing and have a concussion?
I move my phone out of his line of sight, not wanting him to be privy to the rest of my conversation with my friends because regarding him, there’s no telling what they’ll say.
Me: I can barely stand on my foot, let alone drive. He’s only dropping me off.
Me: I’ll text you when I’m there so Brynn can distract mama and my dad.
Billie: You sure you don’t need a hospital instead?
Of course, Billie would be the voice of reason. She and Bishop would appreciate that about one another.
Brynn: She’ll be in the hospital if she misses mama's beloved party. Hurry, I’ll stall for now but you better come, B.
My sister understands exactly why I can’t risk a visit to the hospital instead of attending my Magnolia King’s party.
Me: I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.
Nash is back over my shoulder, shaking his head as he looks at the fifteen messages the girls and I typed back and forth in a matter of minutes.
“What is it with girls and the need to send so many individual texts when it can all just be typed out as one message? A phone call to explain everything would have been quicker.”
“Aren’t you in need of a shower?” I try to stand, but he pushes me back down and holds me in place. His heavy body hovers over me and it brings back so many memories, memories of that night I want to forget.
“Stay.” He orders before stepping out of the room. I hear him rustling some things in the kitchen before he returns with a bag of frozen chicken nuggets. “You have no vegetables in this house, woman. How do you stay so thin?”
I roll my eyes, annoyed. It’s one of my least favorite things when people comment on my weight and make stupid insinuations about my eating habits. I eat fairly well, though I don’t starve myself or limit my indulgences in sweets. I own a fucking bakery cafe, for God sakes. But I keep a healthy fitness routine and have always worked with a quick metabolism.
“You sound like my mama. It’s called exercise, maybe even genetics. And not that it’s your business, but I do eat vegetables. I just rarely eat at home since I’m always on the go.”
“Whatever, I’ll be back. Don't you dare leave, Bailey.”
With that last order, he kicks off his boots and walks over to my bathroom, tossing his jeans out the door before he closes it behind him. Though I notice the door doesn’t click. The bastard thinks he can tempt me into sneaking in on him and watching him shower. Ha, he’s out of his mind if he thinks I’m at all interested in seeing all of that gorgeous muscle up close.
Trying to busy myself for the next few minutes until he’s out, I place the bag of frozen cooked poultry on my ankle, grinding my teeth in agony when the ice hits my skin. Leave it to me to fuck up my ankle when I don’t have time to be off my feet. It’s one of the busiest times of the year at HoneyBees, and although Billie and I hired a new baker to help with the bulk of the morning pastries, thanks to my mishap of sleeping in, it’s still not enough for the demand of our pastries.
Crossroads has a sweet tooth and a slight drinking problem, which is why a bakery cafe and a bar were the perfect options of establishment to open. Besides, I have yet to share with Billie my brilliant idea of hosting a mixer at the bar this month. Thanks to her rambling about how online dating is such a pain, not that I’d know given it’s been months since my last date, made me think about bringing back face-to-face communication and hosting a dating mixer over at Stingers. It would take the edge off of the daunting practice with live music, good food, drinks, and atmosphere.
Not five minutes later, Nash exits the bathroom yet again, naked, wrapped in only a towel. This one’s much smaller than the last and barely hides the package I know he’s packing.
He doesn’t say a thing or stays long enough to allow me to admire the curves of his back or the thick muscle of his calves. Instead, he disappears into the living room, returning two minutes later dressed in another pair of dark blue jeans and a heather gray Henley that wraps too perfectly around his chest, arms, and back.
“Now, to get you some different shoes.”
A nother five minutes later, we’re down in the parking lot, staring at my old Chevy Malibu that refuses to turn on and continues to ruin my already dreadful night. Much to my dismay, I had no choice but to let Nash carry me down stairs or risk falling to my death hopping on one foot.
“Sounds like it’s the battery,” Nash says as he leans over the open hood, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows like some hit mechanic.
The cool breeze makes me shiver slightly, though I think the goosebumps on my skin may have more to do with the gorgeous man currently leaning over the hood of my car. “Great, just fucking great.”
“I can take a look, but it might take a few minutes to figure out the problem and try to fix it. I can call us an Uber or if you want to get there quicker…” His gaze shifts to his motorcycle parked at the end of the lot. “We can take Daisy.”
“Daisy? Your motorcycle’s named Daisy.”
He shrugs like it’s not at all odd. “Seemed like a good enough name.”
I huff out a long breath, thoroughly frustrated with tonight’s turn of events. “Ugh, fine. I can’t be any later than we are. My mama’s going to give her toast in…” I look down at my phone and see it’s almost six o'clock. “In twenty minutes. Just bring your bike over, but don’t you dare kill me Nash Bishop or I swear to God…”
With the slam of the hood, he brings his finger to my lips, shushing me before I can continue to toss out threats. Why on earth does he keep doing that? Better yet, why am I finding it increasingly sexy?
Nash has me caged in against the hood of my car, one hand on either side of me, forcing me to arch my back to keep some distance between us. “Do you ever stop talking, Bailey King?”
I can almost taste the spearmint on his breath and have to bite my tongue so I won’t be tempted to. “You act like you don’t know the answer to that.”
“I might have once, but this girl…” He pauses, his eyes raking over my body and making me tremble in his arms. “This woman, I can’t quite figure her out.”
“It’s not your job to figure her out. You don’t have the time to. You’re leaving, remember?”
A dark, husky sound leaves his throat as he chuckles at my expense, his lips now practically touching mine. “Yeah, I’m leaving.”
Without warning, his hands reach under me and once again he hoists me up into his arms. “Nash, what are you doing?” I ask, but the bastard ignores me.
“By the time I walk you over to the bike, we’ll be an hour late.”
His long, languid steps with me in his arms make me incredibly anxious, but as promised, we reach his bike in no time. Setting me down on the seat to straddle it, the cold leather against my exposed thigh makes me gasp in response.
Another low chuckle leaves him as he grabs a helmet hooked underneath the seat, places it over my head and fastens it, bringing his face so close to mine. Though he still says nothing. His expression remains as impassive as I’ve seen it thus far when he straddles the bike in front of me.
My body grows tense. Memories of the first and only time I sat on this bike flood me as I recall what almost happened between us back then. About what I want to happen right now.
Grabbing my hands in his, he wraps them around his torso, the ridges of his muscles underneath his shirt teasing my fingertips. Being this close to him, feeling his warmth against mine, it makes me dangerously desperate to feel more of him. Arousal shoots through me, a need so strong I’m afraid of what I might do.
“Breathe, Angel,” he murmurs, his voice low and thick, with the same arousal coursing through me. It was exactly what he’d said to me all those years ago, the first time I sat in this same spot.
I’m too aroused to be embarrassed and there’s really no use in hiding what being so close to him does to me. So instead, I ignore his remark and tighten my arms around him, taking full advantage of the sinfully gorgeous man in front of me. My fingers move dangerously low, brushing against the waistband of his jeans.
“Drive Nash before I jump off the bike and change my mind.”
This time he’s the one that groans, and I feel his muscles flex as he revs up the engine. The sound makes the entire bike vibrate beneath me and I swear to God the feeling of it between my legs makes me damn near come.
“Aah,” I moan, unable to contain the way it makes me feel. My pussy throbs the harder he hits the gas, and I scoot closer to him. Being this close to him, with my hands on his hard body, and his freshly showered scent that’s so familiar yet incredibly unique, makes me want him so badly.
“Easy, Angel. Like I said before, you keep making those sexy little sounds while rubbing up on me like that. A man has only so much self-control. And baby, you ain’t ready for that side of me.”
“What makes you think I’d ever want it?”
“Bailey girl, who are you kidding?” He looks over his shoulder at me, a sinfully sexy grin plastered on his smug face. “You fucked the boy in me. You have no idea what the man can do.”
Well, fuck me, the bastard’s right and he damn well knows it.