Chapter 10 #2
“Definitely not. Go.” Without thinking, I put my hands on her hips and nudged her forward. The feel of her curves under my palms short-circuited my brain for a beat. What the hell was I doing? In this moment, she was a client. An unofficial, unpaying client, but there were rules.
She started climbing again, and I dropped my hands. “How about a scrapbook of all the times you’ve been pulled over by the cops just so they could tell you what a good driver you are?” she pressed.
“You say you’re not into commitment, but look at you commit to this bit,” I said as we reached the second floor.
“I’m a woman of depths,” she said sunnily. “And you seem to be holding up just fine.”
I led the way to the door and pulled out the keys. “Hurling insults is my family’s love language. I’m used to it.”
“I like your family. They don’t suck.”
“That’s a false assumption. They absolutely suck. They just suck in charming, entertaining ways, not emotionally scarring ones.”
She cocked her head and studied me. “Do you know how lucky you are?”
“I do. I don’t know if you know this, but my brothers and I are all adopted. Our parents died when we were young.”
Zoey nodded. “Hazel told me. Not that she goes around blabbing your entire family history or anything. It’s just we talk a lot about stuff.”
“It’s fine. Everyone talks here. We were split up in foster care.
I landed here with Frank and Pep Bishop.
When they found out I had two older brothers, they moved heaven and earth to reunite us.
Now here we all are. I don’t remember much about our birth parents, but I do know how lucky I am to be a Bishop.
” I unlocked the door and waved a hand for her to enter.
She stepped inside cautiously. “It’s an empty room. I gotta say, I’m disappointed.”
“Yes, but it could be your empty room in your empty apartment if you stop annoying the landlord.”
Interest sparked in those green eyes. Her eyebrows arched in surprise. “Ohhh. I’m done being disappointed.”
“Now don’t you feel like a brat?” I asked smugly.
“Gage, this is twice the size of my apartment in Manhattan.”
I liked the way my name sounded on her lips, and admitting that made me want to punch myself in the face. She wasn’t the right one. I shouldn’t be having any of these feelings. Why the hell couldn’t I remember that? “A dollar stretches a little further out here,” I said.
“What’s this room?” she asked, stepping through the cased opening off the living room into the area just off the galley kitchen.
“It’s what we non–New Yorkers call a dining room.”
She tapped a finger to her chin. “Hmm. A room just for eating? What will I do on my couch?”
“How do you feel about oversize bathroom vanities?” I asked.
“I feel like you should keep talking, handsome potential landlord.”
“Flirting will not get you a discount on the rent, as it’s already been confirmed that we’re not interested in each other.”
“You know who is interested in us?” Zoey said as she made a beeline for the bathroom door. “Hazel. Oh my God. It’s huge!” she announced gleefully. She looked back at me, grinning.
“What did I say about flirting?” I said, leaning against the doorframe. “Why is Hazel interested in us? Did Cam get to her too?”
Zoey hopped up on the corner of the vanity, feet swinging. “Get this. She thinks she needs some new real-life inspiration for the book she’s writing, and she’s trying to concoct a romance between the two of us.”
“Where did she get that idea?”
“From me telling her I wasn’t interested in you.”
“You were talking about me? That doesn’t sound disinterested to me.”
She rolled her eyes. “There’s that Bishop ego.
I knew it couldn’t be that far under the surface.
Anyway, I just wanted to give you a heads-up.
If you see a brunette romance novelist lurking behind your trash cans, trying to force romance, that’s why.
As her agent, I’d appreciate it if you humor her so she can start hitting those word count goals. ”
“How much humor do you suggest?”
“Keep your pants on, Tiger. I might be willing to one-night-stand it with you, but then you’d be hypnotized by my body and start following me around town, begging for another night.”
“Someone woke up cocky today,” I observed.
She looked around the renovated bathroom and sniffed. “Why does everything smell new? Fresh paint, new carpet.” She hopped down from the counter and whipped back the shower curtain on the tub. “Aha! New tile.”
“Because it is new.”
“Gage.”
“Zoey.”
“Did you redo this apartment for me?”
I thought about lying. Then I thought about how Santa Claus got all the credit for the best gifts. “I did. It was vacant, and I was using it for storage,” I admitted.
She looked around the tiny room again. “This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. Literally ever. And you don’t even like me.”
“It’s not that I don’t like you,” I said in exasperation. “I just don’t enjoy spending time with you.”
“You’re an ass,” she said with a laugh. Then she was rising on her tiptoes and placing a smacking kiss on my cheek. “Now, pardon me while I ruthlessly judge your closet space.”
She skirted around me and left the room, leaving behind the scent of coconut and a scorching sensation where her lips had touched my skin.
Fuck. This was not good. I was playing with fire, and I never played with fire.
“Oh my God, I could fit almost all of my wardrobe in here,” she squealed from the bedroom.
I glanced in the vanity mirror and rearranged my face so it looked less dumbfounded. “Get it together, Bishop,” I told my reflection before tracking her down.
“I’ll need some shelves in here and a three-month lease, because we both know there’s no way I’ll still be here in a year,” Zoey called from the closet.
“Nine months,” I countered.
She pirouetted to the closet doorway. “This is eight times the size of my closet in the city.”
“I told you Story Lake isn’t all that bad.”
“It’s definitely growing on me…like a fungal infection,” she admitted.
She was joking, but Story Lake had a way of sinking its hooks into a person.
“There’s a partial lake view through the dining room windows, and there’s a back staircase off the kitchen that goes directly to your parking space,” I explained. “Maybe if you’re not too much of a pain in the ass, your landlord will help you carry groceries.”
“Six months,” she decided. “You can make my contract with the town the same length.”
“Deal,” I said and held out my hand.
We shook on it, and I ignored the sparks I felt against my palm.
I wasn’t going to just put off my future for a little fun in the present.
I could absolutely handle close proximity.
I was a fucking adult with admirable self-control.
Attraction and lust were obstacles for teenagers, not grown men well into their thirties.
She let go of my hand and ran a victory lap through the entire apartment before throwing herself at me and wrapping me in a one-sided, violent hug. “Thank you thank you thank you, Gage!”
She released me and danced off to inspect the kitchen.
“What the fuck have I done,” I whispered to myself.
Exactly how was I supposed to line up the next Mrs. Bishop when I had a redheaded apocalypse living upstairs?
I’d just have to keep my distance. Which shouldn’t be hard. She was busy. I was busy. Two busy people didn’t have a ton of free time to bump into each other all over town.
She skidded to a halt in front of me. “You know what’s funny? If we were into each other, this would have been downright romantic. That lease puts me right on top of you. Hazel would eat this up with a spoon.”