12. Lennox
lennox
. . .
On principle, I stayed toward the back of the crowd with my family as Lawson’s band took the stage. They’d been performing for about an hour, and the sun had finally set.
After they’d gone on, Josie and I tried to find Cleo.
We looked everywhere we could think of, but it was like she’d simply vanished.
Then we started calling her over and over to see if she would answer.
It wasn’t until the thirtieth attempt that she finally told us to leave her alone and that she’d talk about it later.
I didn’t believe a single word, but if it made her feel better, then I’d go along with it.
Mom and Dad had been on the makeshift dance floor for nearly every song, leaving Bishop, Lincoln, Josie, and me behind. We’d drunk our fair share, poking gentle fun at the couples that looked like newborn foals who didn’t know how to work their legs.
“That looks so painful,” Josie said, grimacing as one guy stepped on his partner’s toes for the fifth time. “Her poor feet are going to be destroyed. Thank God you can dance because I wouldn’t marry someone who couldn’t. ”
Lincoln wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “If I didn’t, I’d have taken lessons just for you.”
Josie scrunched her nose. “I don’t think I’d like someone else teaching you, so nevermind. I’d endure it, but only because you’re a quick learner.”
“Is that the only reason?”
“Oh my god,” I said, tipping my head back. “Don’t start. Go dance and say all that lovey-dovey stuff out there.”
Josie and Lincoln laughed, but he pulled her into his arms. “What do you say, darlin’? Wanna go show’em how it’s done?”
She smiled, not saying a word as she dragged him out with the crowd.
They bumped into our parents, and my heart ached as I watched how happy they seemed.
Don’t get me wrong, I was over the moon for them.
Mom and Dad had been through so much over the past year.
So had Josie and Lincoln. They all deserved to smile and laugh and settle into their forevers.
But lately, I’d found myself envious of that kind of simplicity.
I didn’t really know what I was doing with my life outside of rodeo, which had already taken a sideline with how much of a shit show the year had been.
My days consisted of working, eating, and going to bed, only to wake up and do it over again.
I had no spark, no drive, nothing pushing me toward the greatness I always thought I’d achieved.
Except for Bishop.
As much as I hated being around him, the thought of making his life difficult seemed to be the only thing I could focus on.
It helped take my mind off the perpetual doom I felt over my future.
The thought of burrowing so deeply under his skin made me smile.
He was just too easy to piss off. Maybe that was why I did it.
Mom always said when I was little I’d rather have negative attention than no attention at all, guess not much had changed.
I didn’t want to think about any other reason.
Bishop had been relatively quiet since Cleo left our table earlier, spending his time eyeing everyone around him like he was keeping watch. Only Lincoln’s incessant pushing and prodding seemed to bring him out of his shell.
Or maybe it had something to do with the multiple glasses of whiskey being pushed his way.
“And then there were two,” I said, picking up my bottle and downing it. It soured on my tongue, leaving a bitter taste behind. “Why is it always us?”
Bishop shook his head. “Fuckin’ beats me. I figured you’d be up and out of your seat by now.”
He was right. Under normal circumstances, I would’ve left without a second thought. So why was I still here?
I couldn’t ignore the restless energy coursing through my veins like it had the night he and I had almost gone too far. I didn’t know why I felt the need to act on it. It wasn’t like it’d never steered me wrong. In fact, there were many times I’d woken up regretting my actions.
It wasn’t too late. I could still wander into the crowd and find a cowboy for the night.
One I could lose myself in and avoid damaging my pride further.
There sure wasn’t a shortage of them. I could literally throw a stone in any direction and hit a good-looking man in tight jeans and a pair of boots. But therein lay my problem.
I didn’t want just any cowboy. I wanted one specific pair of boots kicked off by the foot of my bed.
I wanted the one next to me, as stupid as it might be.
Just for one night. Just to get it out of my system, so we could squash whatever the fuck this was between us once and for all.
He could preach to me all day about how we shouldn’t for any number of reasons, but it didn’t eliminate that stupid, reckless feeling.
Our age difference, the fact he worked for my dad, the fact we both knew it wouldn’t change anything… None of it mattered. Honestly? It only made things worse. It felt forbidden, and I wanted him even more because of it .
I found myself thinking about that night more than I cared to admit.
Though, I usually dragged myself out of the thought right before I’d thrown up—everything that came after that was a fucking disaster.
My whole body tingled when I remembered what it felt like to have his calloused fingers dig into my skin, or the way he’d slapped my ass.
He always exuded such control. Seeing him try to force me into submission got me all sorts of hot and bothered.
Something knocked into my chair, and I blinked to clear the haze. Bishop was staring at me, his brows furrowed in question.
“What?” I asked, straightening my back.
“Dunno. You had a weird look on your face. Wasn’t sure what was happening.”
“It must be difficult to understand the concept of being lost in thought, what with all that empty space up there,” I said, reaching over to tap his temple.
“Fuck off,” he said. “There’s at least one or two little Bishops up there running the show.”
I turned to him in shock. “Did you just make a joke?”
Bishop chuckled. “I’ve been known to do that a time or two.”
“Well, I’ve never heard one before.”
“Naw, I never let my guard down around you. That’d be too dangerous.” He turned his head, letting his eyes rake over my body. There wasn’t anything soft or sweet about it. Nothing but raw heat blazed in those dark green depths.
“Sounds vulnerable,” I said. My voice came out all raspy and strange, like I’d forgotten to breathe in the moments that passed.
“Sometimes it is,” he admitted.
“Maybe you should try it sometime.”
“Telling jokes?”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “Being vulnerable.”
Bishop ran his tongue along his teeth, looking down at the hand wrapped around his cup. “I thought we already talked about that. I have rules I don’t break,” he said, lowering his voice. “Not even for a pretty little cocktease like yourself.”
“Fuck,” I breathed, clenching my thighs on instinct. What was happening right now?
He closed his eyes, letting out a shaky breath. “Shit, sorry. I—I don’t know why I said that?—”
I leaned over, placing my hand on his thigh like he’d done to Cleo earlier. It’d made me stupid jealous, even though I knew I had no right or reason to be. They were closer in age, eliminating what seemed to be his biggest concern.
And yet, he couldn’t keep his eyes off me. Even in the months since our fight, even when he thought I wasn’t paying attention, I knew he was looking my way. I wasn’t stupid, and I wasn’t blind.
Bishop’s nostrils flared as he glanced down at my hand. “The fuck are you doing, Lennox?”
“I dunno,” I admitted. “Maybe it’s the alcohol?—”
“Definitely the alcohol.”
I smiled. “Or maybe it’s the fact that despite my best efforts to be utterly repulsed by you and everything you do?—”
“ Ouch .”
I smacked his arm. “Will you stop interrupting me? That’s rude!”
“Nope. I can’t,” he said. My breath caught as he lifted his gaze to mine.
“Why not?” I asked.
A muscle in his jaw fluttered as he answered. “Because that’s the only thing stopping me from telling you to move your hand. I shouldn’t like it as much as I do, but I’m feeling selfish tonight.”
“You should be selfish.” I moved my hand back to his thigh, squeezing slightly.
“Lennox…” he warned. “We can’t go down this road again. You’re too young?— ”
“I’m a legally consenting adult.”
“You’re drunk.”
“So are you,” I said, leaning forward in my seat. “So is everyone else here.”
“That doesn’t make this any better. Remember the last time?—”
“Don’t you wanna know what I taste like?” I whispered. Bishop’s eyes flared, watching as I trailed my fingers up his leg. “You didn’t get the chance before, did you? I bet you’ve been dreaming of it, huh?”
“Christ, you don’t play fair,” he bit out. “You’re a fucking brat who is used to getting your way.”
I smirked. “Sure am.”
He raised a brow. “And you think this is gonna work? That you’re gonna get me to give in and break all the rules for you? You must not know me well enough. My control is unwavering.”
I glanced down at his crotch, where the outline of his very hard dick was visible through his jeans. “Doesn’t look like you’re the one in control anymore.”
I tried to move my hand, but he shot out, quickly gripping my wrist. “You think I’m not in control?
” he asked, smirking when I nodded. “That’s cute.
Killer, I could have you bent over this table, begging to be fucked if I wanted to.
And before you try to tell me no, tell me this instead…
If I reached between those sweet thighs, would I find your panties soaked?
Your cunt aching to be touched? Would you give me those desperate little whimpers you gave me the first time I touched you? ”
I tried to stifle my moan as I shifted forward to put pressure on my clit. It was, in fact, needing the contact. It’d been too long since I’d been with someone who wasn’t powered by batteries. He was talking to me like my parents weren’t standing nearby, which was ridiculously hot.
The way Bishop looked at me, knowing he was right, was enough to make me give in .
“Tell me what you’re thinking about,” Bishop ordered, sitting back in his chair. He looked cool, calm, and collected—like we were discussing the weather or something incredibly mundane.
“That I’ll beg if you ask me to,” I said without hesitation, keeping my voice low. “That I’ll get on my knees right here and now?—”
Bishop looked away, and I let my words falter.
My stomach sank, embarrassment creeping in hard and fast like it had the morning I’d woken up in an empty bed.
It wasn’t a feeling I was accustomed to, especially not when it came to sex.
I was used to getting my way both in and out of the bedroom.
With Bishop, it seemed to be my default setting—like I was always one step away from either wanting to burn his cabin to the ground or bury myself in a hole to hide.
Before I could backpedal, he spoke. “I didn’t say to stop,” he said, tone stern. “And I don’t want you on your knees.”
“Where do you want me, then?” I asked, licking my lips.
Bishop leaned forward, bracing his elbow on the table. He opened his mouth but quickly shut it as screams rang out from the dance floor. We both jerked our heads toward the commotion, rising out of our seats to see what was happening.
I couldn’t make anything out over the rapidly forming crowd. Was there an accident? Was someone hurt? As someone shouted for an ambulance, I hoped the fear creeping up my spine was wrong. Someone probably twisted an ankle, that’s all.
And then the band stopped, cutting the music just as a single wailing cry pierced the air. A sound I would recognize anywhere.
“ No, no, no ,” I said, pressing my hand to my heart as if it could stop it from breaking.
“Lennox—” Bishop began, sticking out his arm to stop me from running forward, but I was too quick.
I darted past him, urging my body to run faster than ever. Bishop’s footsteps sounded behind me, solidifying my anxiety. He wouldn’t have taken off after me if his mind hadn’t gone to the worst possible scenario like mine had.
He grabbed my hand, pulling me back as I got to the crowd. I tried to fight back and struggle out of his hold, but it was useless. “Let me go,” I said, panic rising with each wasted second.
“I’m trying to help you,” he barked. I didn’t know what he meant until he stepped in front and tugged me through the crowd. He shouted at the onlookers, forcing them out of the way so we could pass.
I couldn’t breathe or think about anything other than seeing what was on the other side of the crowd. If it wasn’t for Bishop’s skin against my own, I wouldn’t have made it without collapsing.
As Bishop broke through the last line of people, his steps faltered. He spun around, taking me in his arms as I tried to step around him. “Look at me,” he said, but I shook my head.
“Let me through,” I cried. “Let me see?—”
“Goddammit, Lennox… Look at me,” he growled. His hands flew to my face, forcing me to meet his gaze. “I need you to breathe, okay?”
My vision clouded, the world going blurry around me. It wasn’t until his thumbs swiped beneath my eyes that I realized I’d started crying. “I can’t,” I said, gasping for air. “Bishop, I can’t…”
“You can,” he said, trying to keep his tone even, but he couldn’t. There was a shake there that hadn’t been before.
“Lennox!” Josie cried, pulling me away from Bishop. “We need to find Cleo,” she said in a rush. “Her phone is off, and we need?—”
But I’d stopped listening when I looked past her shoulder and saw Lincoln. He was hunched over someone, frantically performing CPR. My mom was on her knees beside him. She had her arms wrapped around her middle, crying for the person to wake up.
“—meet us at the hospital,” Josie finished, tugging on my arm. “Are you listening?”
I couldn’t. Not as Lincoln shifted, and I saw my dad’s face come into view.
Then I screamed.