3. Bishop
bishop
. . .
I hated this goddamn bar. It was too bright, too bold, too mainstream, too fucking loud. Or maybe it was the two girls standing in front of me, shooting tequila like it was water and chasing it with beer.
Since Josie and Lincoln had said their goodbyes and driven off in my truck, I’d been sitting here, regretting my choices as I watched Lennox and Cleo get more drunk by the minute.
They were giggling and laughing and screaming out the lyrics to every song played.
At one point, A Bar Song by Shaboozey came on and they sang so loud that the entire bar joined in.
“Y’all are gonna regret this in the morning,” I muttered, taking a long sip of beer.
“Liquor before beer, you’re in the clear!” Lennox yelled, laughing even louder.
Goddammit.
Cleo turned to me, blushing. She and I were closest in age, only five years apart. I’d never known her to come out of her shell often—she was the quietest of the three Hayes sisters. Always dependable, always taking on more than she should ever have to .
I guessed even the most strait-laced people needed an outlet for whatever they were running from.
But the hellion beside her? The twenty-seven-year-old who was trouble wrapped in a pretty fucking bow? Yeah, this was par for the course with her.
Lennox Hayes and I were like fire and ice.
She burned hotter than a thousand fucking suns and had the temper to boot.
I was the dick who acted unaffected but was anything but.
That woman had a way of getting under my skin like no one else had.
She drove me crazy, slipping further into madness with each moment we spent together—which was way more than I liked.
When Lennox wasn’t out on the road, she earned a paycheck at the ranch. We didn’t agree much, especially not when it came to work. Most of our conversations ended in one of us shouting at the other that they were an idiot before storming off.
I loved my job, loved living on the land I worked my ass off for, but it had its downsides. No matter how hard I tried to escape a particular blonde pain in my ass, I couldn’t. She was there wherever I went, pestering the fuck out of me.
If she could make it a career, she’d be a millionaire.
“What time does this guy go on?” I asked, cursing as the bartender brought another tray of shots.
I swore I was going to be the responsible adult and stay sober, but I couldn’t do it. Not anymore. Not when Lennox just licked a line of salt off the rim of a shot glass before tipping it back. My eyes remained locked on her throat as it moved, swallowing the liquor in one go.
Guess I was adding “lookin’ too hot” to the list of offenses against the Lone Star, too. Christ Almighty. Getting drunk should never look that fucking sinful, and I suddenly found myself wondering if I needed to go to church.
I looked at my watch. Yeah, I really should have insisted on leaving. It was already ten, and the band was just getting ready to play. I was going to hate myself in the morning, but I was starting to wonder if lack of sleep would be my only regret.
The intro to The Stroke by Billy Squier blared through the speakers.
Lennox yelled, turning in her seat as the lights on the stage began flashing.
Cleo, for all her momentary excitement, seemed to shrink in on herself as three figures walked on stage.
They picked up their instruments as the crowd went wild.
I was getting too old for this shit.
“Lennox! What’re you doing?” Cleo asked. I glanced over, mouth drying up as her sister stood on top of the rickety stool her perfect little ass had just been perched on. “You’re gonna fall!”
“No, I’m not!” Lennox called, shimmying her hips to the beat of the song.
It was hypnotic. I couldn’t look away if I wanted to.
Her hands ran along her body, fingertips brushing her hips.
They climbed up and up and up, twisting in her hair and exposing the column of her neck. “I’ve done this a thousand times.”
“Lennox, stop playing around,” I said, slipping off my seat and circling the table.
She looked down at me and smirked. “ No .” Her blue eyes dared me to do something, burning with the same stubborn fire I saw every time she pushed my buttons.
My hand itched to make her, to throw her over my shoulder and find someplace quiet to turn her ass red. Or maybe I’d do it right here, where everyone could see what a fucking brat she was.
A small crowd had gathered around our table. Most were young bucks who didn’t know their ass from their elbow and sure as fuck wouldn’t know what to do with a woman like Lennox. She’d chew them up and spit them out without a second thought.
“Get down,” I seethed.
The stool rocked as she crouched down. I didn’t know how she kept herself so stable.
“Or what?” she asked, letting her fingers play with the collar of my shirt.
That simple touch sent blood rushing to my cock, and my thoughts spiraling out of control.
This moment, that look she was giving me, would be etched into my skin and my memory until the day I died. “What’re you gonna do?”
“Stop being a pain?—”
My words stopped as she reached forward with her other hand. She grabbed my hat and placed it on her head with smug satisfaction. “If you want me to get down, Bishop,” she said, running a finger along the gold chain around my neck, “then you better make me.”
I barely heard the grumble of disappointed men behind me, too aware that Lennox Hayes was wearing my hat.
My. Fucking. Hat.
And then she pushed to her feet as a single spotlight swung to the middle of the stage, lighting up a man standing dead center. His shoulder length hair was tucked beneath a hat, and he was smiling at the crowd.
“Well… goddamn, Ashwood!” he called out as his band struck their first note of the night.
The crowd cheered, going wild as he scanned the crowded bar.
“It’s been a while since I’ve been home.
I’m glad y’all still know how to party!” The man pointed toward Lennox when she cupped her mouth and yelled.
The man laughed and said, “Someone buy her a shot on the band!”
As if summoned by fucking magic, three men raced forward to put theirs on the table.
“She doesn’t need any more fucking shots,” I muttered, turning to shoo them away.
Instead, I was stopped by Cleo’s gaze, staring in horror up at the stage. Goddammit, what the hell was happening right now, and why was everything going to shit?
But as quickly as her face fell, she scrunched her nose and hopped down from her seat. “I—I’m fine,” she said, waving me off with a watery smile. “Just need the bathroom. Take care of her for me, yeah?”
And then she was gone, disappearing into the sea of cowboy hats and raised beer bottles as the band played their first song.
“Fuck this,” I said, surging toward Lennox. She was sorely mistaken if she thought her bratty attitude would keep me from going toe-to-toe with her. If anything, the way she acted only made me want to pursue that more—to punish her for the way she was acting and openly defying me.
Lennox yelped as I gripped her thighs, trying my damnedest to ignore the feel of her smooth skin against my callouses. Her dress rode up as I tossed her over my shoulder, and my fingers slid beneath the fabric.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. What the fuck was I doing?
“Bishop!” she scolded, beating her fists against my back. “Put me down!”
Without thinking, I brought my palm down on her ass hard three times, turning her angry protests into a muffled moan. That noise went straight to my dick, which was growing harder by the second.
I grasped her waist, sliding her down my body until her feet rested on the ground.
Her eyes met mine the moment she felt my erection through my jeans, pupils blown from either anger or lust. I couldn’t hide it.
Truth be told, I wanted her to feel it, for her to know what she was doing to me.
Our chests rose and fell to the same staccato beat, lost in a rhythm we couldn’t escape.
I let my gaze drop, instantly regretting my decision. The top of Lennox’s full breasts spilled slightly over the neckline of her dress. Each ragged breath she took drew me in closer, and I couldn’t stop myself from reaching up and tracing the line.
Her lips parted as the tip of my finger brushed across the heated flesh.
My hands were weathered, riddled with callouses and scars from years of hard labor.
If I grabbed her own and examined it, I’d find the same, but this?
This part of her was unmarred, a creamy expanse of skin that practically begged me to mark it up.
“You just gonna stare at my tits, cowboy?” Lennox asked. It wasn’t her usual bravado. Her voice wavered as if she was trying to gain control of the situation, but she knew it was out of her hands. “Or are you gonna do something about it?”
I met her gaze. “The things I wanna do can’t be done in public, killer.”
She licked her lips. “Tell me anyway.”
This was stupid, so fucking stupid, and reckless, to boot. There was no future in which Lennox Hayes and I would ever be more than one night.
But maybe one night was all we needed.
Even I couldn’t deny that fighting with her got my dick hard. Her snarky comments and devil-may-care attitude were unlike any other woman I’d ever met. She wasn’t the type to be tied down, and I hoped she never was. Lennox deserved to run as free as the Mustangs in Montana.
I stepped forward, brushing her long hair over her shoulder, lingering at the crook of her neck.
Her pulse was erratic, thrumming just beneath the surface of her skin.
I let it ground me as I wrapped my hand gently around her throat and softly squeezed.
She was still wearing my hat. I should’ve taken it from her but couldn’t bring myself to.
Not when she looked so fucking good wearing it.
“You wanna know what I’d do to you?” Lennox nodded, barely able to move in my grip.
I leaned forward, enjoying the way her eyes fluttered close as I whispered, “It’s taking everything in me not to throw you over my shoulder again and haul your bratty ass to the bathroom.
I wanna lock the door, force you to your knees, and stuff that smart fucking mouth with my cock until your make-up is ruined.
And then I’d fuck you bare against the wall, hard and fast, letting you scream for more.
I bet you’d beg me to come inside your hot little cunt, wouldn’t you?
” She whimpered, fidgeting in her seat. It filled me with a smug sense of satisfaction.
“Yeah, you’d thank me for filling you up, killer.
It’d turn you on to know I’m leaking out of you whenever some other mother fucker tried talking to you. ”
“Fuck,” she cursed, reaching for my belt to pull me closer.
But I smirked, stepping away and leaving her needy.
Lennox opened her eyes, ready to smart back, as Cleo came back to the table with red-rimmed eyes and a bucket of beers.
She forced a smile, wavering slightly as she looked toward the band on the stage.
“I brought more drinks!” she called, handing us each a beer.
I didn’t feel the same buzz I felt earlier. Now, all I could feel was the phantom beat of Lennox’s racing heart as I held her like I owned her.
I hated how much I wanted to feel it again.