Chapter 6 #3
Even now, out here in the park, with nothing but the sounds of the crickets, frogs, and other animals coming out at dusk surrounding us, she’s still somewhere else in her head. Still wrapped up in the concerns that plague her when she’s in her protector role.
I lean in and feather my lips across her ear. “Relax.”
She flinches slightly at the contact, or maybe at the word that represents something she struggles with so much.
It takes her a moment before she inhales a long, slow breath, then releases it, but almost instantly, her shoulders relax slightly, a bit of that tension floating away.
A small victory to be celebrated.
Because Bishop Clarke will not give up anything easily.
Especially not something personal that might show she’s human.
My entire purpose in bringing her here tonight was to get her out of the environments we’ve been in together previously.
Places where she feels obligated to be on-guard at all times, watchful and tense.
Bring her somewhere completely free from the threats she’s seemingly worrying about, and that’s as breathtakingly beautiful as she is.
I reach over her and snag the bottle of wine, twisting off the cap.
She raises a brow. “Twist top?”
Laughing, I set the cap beside me. “It’s good. I promise.”
“Did you bring glasses?”
I bring the bottle to my mouth and take a sip of the sweet and tanniny liquid, then grin at her. “Do we need them?”
The corner of her lips twitches, as if she’s fighting a smile she doesn’t want to give me, but she accepts the proffered bottle and takes a sip of it herself. “I can’t say I’ve ever sat in the park and drank wine straight out of the bottle before.”
“Really?” I raise a brow. “‘Cause I do this every weekend.”
Bishop laughs so hard she actually releases a little snort, the sound carrying through the night air. She slaps her hand over her mouth, her eyes widening with sheer embarrassment, but I reach up and pull it away, wrapping my fingers around her slender wrist.
“Don’t.” I squeeze gently, bringing the top of her hand to my mouth and pressing my lips to soft skin there. “That was adorable.”
Her breath hitches, and she tugs her wrist from my hold, rolling her eyes. “Fuck, don’t say that. The last thing I want to be is adorable.”
“Why not?”
I genuinely meant it as a compliment, but the way Bishop purses her lips, she seems annoyed, like she would rather punch me than sit here with me right now.
“Do I really have to explain it to you?”
“Apparently…”
She releases a long sigh that carries far more than just annoyance over the “adorable” comment. “You know I help run security for my family.”
I nod.
“So, does looking ‘adorable’ really fit with someone in that position?”
“I mean…”—I shrug—“they’re not mutually exclusive. You can be a total badass who pins me to the ground in a split second and takes absolute control of the situation and still be adorable as fuck.”
She sure fucking is.
Bishop offers me an uneasy look, like if she had a choice, she’d rather be anywhere but sitting here with me on this blanket under the darkening sky in this beautiful park.
I’ve seen that look so many times from her over the short time we’ve known each other. It’s pretty clear what’s going on in that head of hers right now.
“You don’t believe a word I say, do you?”
She takes another sip from the bottle, averting her gaze. “Honestly? I don’t know.”
At least she’s being honest.
It would have been easy enough for her to lie, for her to tell me she believes me when I know she doesn’t get whatever it is she’s looking for from me, but the fact that she was willing to tell me the truth suggests she at least wants to trust me.
Somewhere, deep down, she doesn’t want to bicker and have the push-pull sometimes contempt-laced interactions we have in the past.
That’s a massive step in the right direction as far as I’m concerned.
I won’t push her for more at the moment.
The only way to get Bishop Clarke to trust me is to earn it.
That takes time and patience.
I snag the container of cheese and tear it open, then rip off a hunk of bread. “Hungry?”
She shakes her head. “I ate.”
I pop the food into my mouth and chew, waiting for her to make the decision about how the rest of our night is going to go.
Her gaze stays locked on the water for so long that the sun fully sets, plunging the park into darkness.
When she finally glances at me again, I take that as an opening.
“I really suck at this, huh?”
Her brow furrows. “At what?”
“The whole spontaneity thing…”
The tiniest smile pulls at her lips, and aside from the earlier laughter, I think it’s genuinely the first time I’ve seen a reaction from her that wasn’t all-out contempt—at the very least, mistrust—when looking at me. “No.” She scans the dark park again. “This is actually pretty nice.”
“Wait a minute, was that a compliment?” Her head whips back toward me, and I grin widely. “Maybe I’m hallucinating—”
She shrugs at me with a full-blown smile this time, and it completely lights up her entire face.
Gone are the dark circles under her eyes.
The deep lines she worried into her forehead disappear.
All I see is a happy—and amused—woman for the first time since I met her.
“It was definitely a compliment, but don’t let it go to your head.”
“I won’t.”
That’s a lie.
It was a big win. Hopefully, a massive step forward in whatever this is that’s happening between us. Maybe it’s too much to hope for that, but something seems to shift between us.
A lightening of the air.
Her eyes continue to move over the park, from the huge grassy areas, to the old bridge and the water sparkling under the almost full moon that is out tonight. “Why here?”
She hands me the bottle, and I take a sip.
Breathing in the fresh air scented with cut grass, flowers, and the water, I hold it in my lungs for a moment before I answer. Wondering how much I should reveal to her when she’s always so quick to believe I’m lying. “I much prefer to spend my time outdoors, if at all possible.”
“How come?”
I swallow thickly as years of memories cascade through my head, some good, some bad, until I land on one.
The one that always comes up when I’m in places like this and that always draws a smile across my face.
“My dad used to take me camping when I was little. It was our bonding time. The only real time I got with him.”
“How come?”
“He was in the military. Deployed a lot. Then he went into foreign service and was busy at the various consulates. So, when I did get to spend time with him, it was extra special.”
Bishop offers me a sympathetic look, and I know she’s moving around the various pieces of information she has about me and adding this new stuff to it, trying to create a clearer picture. “I’m with my dad, and basically the rest of my family, every day. Always have been.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“No, just…” She twirls one of her long braids around her finger as she considers her response. “We have a very complicated relationship. Not just me and my dad, but all of us Hawkes. And it only seems to get more complicated as the years progress.”
“What makes it complicated?”
She shrugs. “Life, I guess. We grew up. We have different lives, different experiences and priorities.”
Something dark passes over her eyes, and I push up until I’m fully sitting and tilt her chin toward me until she’s forced to meet my gaze.
“No matter how complicated your relationship with them might be, I know for a fact that they all love you and appreciate what you do for them.”
“How could you possibly know that?”
“Because I’ve seen them in the club and at the opening. I’ve seen the way not only your family members, but all the employees, look to you. They know who always has their backs and best interests at heart.”
For a second, Bishop appears ready to argue with me, but I brush my thumb across her bottom lip slowly, and instead of looking away like I expect her to, or pulling free of my hold, her eyes stay locked with mine.
“You can’t be everyone’s savior all the time.
Bishop.” The words burn coming out of my mouth, old pain laced with new.
When they were said to me, I was lying in a hospital bed, trying desperately to get out of it, to get back to work, to my team.
I didn’t want to hear those words, and neither does she. “You know that, right?”
She tries to look away, but I hold her chin firm, making her gaze stay locked with mine.
Unshed tears shimmer there, and that’s when I know I’ve hit a nerve.
I’ve said exactly what she needed to hear but also didn’t want to.
That bottom lip of hers quivers. “You say that like you know from personal experience.”
More memories flood my head. Mistakes of the past. Things I wish I had done differently. Things that would have changed so much for so many people.
“I do. I lost a lot of good friends over the years.”
“Deployments?”
I give a sharp nod, willing those memories to go back and stay buried where they belong. This isn’t about my past or what I lost, it’s about what she will lose—herself—if something doesn’t give. “Sometimes, bad things happen to good people, and there’s nothing we can do about it.”
“But—”
I press my thumb across her lips again, mesmerized by how soft and kissable they are. “I worry about you…”
God knows I do it far too much.
It’s a complication I never wanted. But I never saw her coming. Never expected to be hit square in the chest with this feeling the first time I saw her at the club.
Like we were kindred spirits.
Like I could see her and she could see right through me, too.
Bishop tenses. “Why in the world would you worry about me? You barely know me.”
“I know enough. I’ve seen enough to understand that you take care of everyone else, even if it’s to your own detriment.”
She flinches again, as if that truth physically hurts her.
Maybe it does.
Her entire life is wrapped up in playing this one role, in being this specific person for her family, and that doesn’t leave room for her to think about what she needs or wants.
The sound of crickets and frogs in the lake and all the other animals that come out at night fills the air, and the tension between us thickens.
I tip my head closer, still holding her chin, still keeping her in place. “I think it’s time you let someone take care of you.”
She doesn’t pull away.
Doesn’t retreat.
Her gaze continues to hold mine as I lean in and press my lips to hers.
I expect her to tense, to jerk free, but she doesn’t. She accepts my kiss and responds in kind, her mouth moving over mine.
Tentatively at first.
Exploring.
Seeking.
Allowing me to do the same until her hands come up to my chest and slide inside my unzipped jacket.
Her touch, her eagerness that matches my own spurs me to deepen the kiss, gliding my tongue across her lips. She opens for me, a tiny little moan in the back of her throat enough to make my cock ache and press against the confines of my jeans.
I roll her onto her back on the blanket and tug away, just far enough to allow myself to breathe. “Will you let me do that, Bishop? Will you let me take care of you?”