Chapter Thirteen Bishop #2
“But they were sweet stories . . . and funny ones. Like the time you sat on Santa Claus’s lap and asked for a wiener as big as your dad’s.”
I rolled my eyes. “Seriously, Mama. You’ve known Samantha barely an hour, and you break out the wiener story?”
Mama Liz grinned at me. “But you were so cute and so serious about it. If only we’d had a video camera then, I would have sent it to America’s Funniest Videos.”
“Okay, that’s enough. You two are not allowed to talk to each other ever again.”
Mama Liz and Samantha only laughed at me. “Isn’t he cute when he’s mad?” Mama Liz asked with a grin.
“He’s adorable,” Samantha teased.
“No matter how old you get, you’ll always be my baby,” Mama Liz said as she cupped my cheek.
As Samantha said, “Aw,” I threw up my hands. “That’s it. Let’s go dance. Now.”
Sam grinned. “Now you’re a caveman barking out commands, huh?”
Taking her by the hand, I led her over to where the other couples were.
When I found a good place for us that wasn’t too close to the band or too crowded, I let her hand go.
I then slid my hands around her waist and drew her close to me.
Samantha wrapped her arms around my neck.
At the feel of her curves again me, I couldn’t help the shiver of desire that ran through me.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“Just a little chill. I’m fine,” I muttered.
We swayed in awkward silence. “So, I have a question.”
“Shoot.”
Fighting a smile, Samantha asked, “Did Santa finally bring you a wiener as big as your dad’s?”
I threw my head back with a laugh. “Yeah, he did. I could argue it was the best present he ever got me.”
With a giggle, Samantha said, “You’re terrible.”
“You’re the one who brought it up.”
“After that story, how could I not?”
I scowled at her. “Did she tell you anything else embarrassing like how I used to strip down and run naked through the streets?”
“Nope. But I’m glad that you did,” she mused.
“For the record, I stopped that shit when I was five. It’s not like I’m still doing it.”
Sam waggled her eyebrows at me. “That certainly would be interesting.”
“I don’t think Mama Liz would find it as cute and funny if I
did it now.”
“I wouldn’t think so.”
“It’s safe to say I’d probably scar Willow for life if I did something like that.”
Sam laughed. “I imagine so.” Tilting her back, she stared up at me. “Speaking of Willow, I think she wants everyone to think I’m your girlfriend.”
With a grimace, I replied, “Yeah. Sorry about that.”
“You don’t need to be sorry. She’s just looking out for you and wanting you to be happy.”
I chuckled. “She’s a mess.”
“You’re so good with her.”
“She’s pretty easy now. I don’t like to think about when she gets to be a teenager.”
Samantha laughed. “I’ll admit teenage girls are pretty scary with all the hormones. I know I gave my mom fits.”
“With the hormones come the boys, and I’ll have to beat the hell out of any guy who hurts her . . . or puts the moves on her.”
“Poor girl. Between her uncles and her father, she’ll maybe get to date when she’s thirty.”
I grinned. “Damn straight.” Cocking my head at her, I said, “As beautiful and sexy as you are, I bet you had half the men in your family keeping tabs on you and guys.”
She laughed. “Yeah, I did. They would have been protective anyway, but when you throw in the fact that my dad had died, they were extremely protective.”
“So you didn’t get to raise too much hell as a teenager?”
“Not really. But the truth is I really didn’t want to get into too much trouble.” At what must have been my surprised expression, Samantha grinned. “Sorry to disappoint you. I guess it’s safe to say I’m not exactly a rebel.”
I shook my head. “Oh no. I disagree on that one. You’re interesting. Mysterious . . .”
“And exotic. Remember you called me exotic the first time you met me?”
I stared at her in surprise. “You remember that?”
She nodded. “You were the first person besides my mom to call me that.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope. She always said I looked exotic like Olivia Hussey— the girl who played Juliet in the 1969 movie version of Romeo and Juliet.” At what must’ve been my blank expression, she added, “Sorry, I must be the only one to remember the play and the movie from high school.”
With a sheepish look, I said, “I dropped out in ninth grade.”
Before Samantha could say anything, I quickly added, “But I got my GED last year.”
“Good for you.”
“Thanks. I was tired of being a loser.”
“You could never be a loser, Bishop. You have too much drive and ambition.”
“I didn’t always. I was pretty much a lazy drunk when I was a teenager,” I admitted.
“It’s hard for me to imagine you like that.”
“Trust me, it wasn’t pretty. I gave my poor parents hell with all the trouble I got in.”
“What turned you around?”
“My old man. He had me start prospecting at eighteen so that I could have some direction.” Shaking my head with a smile, I said, “In some ways being in an MC is like going into the military, and the prospecting period is like boot camp. Being disciplined by all the men I knew and admired really helped to put me in my place.”
Samantha’s expression turned serious. “Can you ever imagine not being part of the MC?”
I shook my head. “Nope. It’s not only in my blood, but it’s the only world I’ve known. Plus, it’s how I met you.”
She gave me a small smile. “That’s true.”
“Don’t worry, Sam. The MC world isn’t going to bury me until I’m an old man.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“We won’t be living by violence anymore, so we can’t die that way.”
“That’s a very interesting concept. One I hope that is true.”
“You just have to trust me.”
Something flared in her eyes. After staring at me for a few seconds, she finally replied, “I’ll try.”
I smiled at her. “Forget about your feelings for the MC world and just enjoy tonight. Enjoy dancing with me.”
“I am. I really am.”
“I’m glad because I am, too.”
A teasing smile played on Samantha’s lips. “The first time I ever laid eyes on you was when you were dancing.”
My eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Really?”
She bobbed her head. “I say dancing— but it was really more like humping on the dance floor.”
I barked out a laugh. “Yeah, I guess that’s the only real dancing I know how to do.”
“You’re not so bad with the slow, non-humping kind.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
As I stared intently at Samantha, I said, “I really like dancing with you.”
“You said that already,” she murmured, gazing into my eyes.
“I wanted to say it again because I really meant it— it wasn’t just some bullshit line.”
“Is that right?”
“Yeah. More than just dancing, I like being with you. I like the way you laugh at my stupid jokes, how you don’t take any of my bullshit, and how you keep me on my toes. Most of all, I like how I feel I can tell you anything.”
Samantha’s tongue darted out to lick her lips. Although it seemed like a nervous gesture, it caused my dick to jump in my pants. “I feel the same way about you.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
As the song came to an end, Samantha kept herself flush against me. Neither one of us seemed to want to move. We wanted to stay right there in the moment.
And I knew then there was no turning back.