Chapter 8 #2
“Really?” I do my best to sound confused when I damn well know exactly how he looked at me. “How did he look at me?”
She grins ear to ear as I take a sip of my tea. “Like he wanted to eat you up.”
I practically choke on the hot liquid in my mouth and cough but manage to swallow it before I shake my head. “That isn’t happening.”
Then again, I never thought I’d let him shove his hand down my pants in the middle of a public park, either.
Jack shakes her head. “Oh no, you’re not getting off that easily. Tell us about this guy.”
Allie nods, and Kennedy drums her long nails on the top of the table.
“Don’t make me use interrogation techniques on you.” She motions toward Jack with a red-tipped nail. “Between what she knows when it comes to torture and what I can do, we’ll get it out of you.”
They aren’t joking.
Unfortunately.
When it comes to getting information from someone that they want kept secret, both Kennedy and Jack are experts.
I release a little sigh and lean back in my chair, running my hand across my face. “He’s just this guy who showed up at the club one night. He helped when a dirtbag grabbed one of the dancers, and I may have misread the situation and put him in a kimura on the ground.”
Kennedy snort-laughs and presses a hand over her mouth, but Jack, Astrid, and Allie don’t bother to conceal their humor at my expense.
Allie barely manages to control her laughter long enough to suck in a breath. “And how did he respond to that?”
My cheeks heat because I could feel his response against my thigh as I straddled him on the Hawkeye Club floor after he turned over under me. “Surprisingly positively.”
Astrid nods. “Apparently, because he showed up at the gym like, a few days later.”
Jack’s brow furrows. “Looking for her?”
Looking for trouble.
Astrid shrugs. “He said he wanted to come spar with Atlas, but the way he looked at Bishop when she walked in, I’m pretty sure he was hoping she’d show up.”
“That wasn’t why he was there.”
And that sounded a little too defensive.
But I’m not used to having the inquisition directed at me. I’m never the source of the family gossip.
I much prefer being on the giving end than the receiving one.
Astrid settles back and shakes her head. “I’m not so sure about that.”
I wave them off. “It doesn’t matter. There’s nothing going on with me and Gage.”
Jack leans closer, seemingly entranced by the info, her complaints about morning sickness and lack of caffeine long forgotten. “His name is Gage?”
“Yep.”
Kennedy grins, her eyes practically glowing with curiosity. “What does he look like?”
Fucking hell.
Fate must be fucking with me today, because no sooner does she ask the question than the man himself walks through the front door of The Grind.
* * *
GAGE
The inside of The Grind is exactly what I would’ve expected it to look like from what I could see from the street. Bright, airy, artfully decorated with local New Orleans decor that gives it a relaxed yet still upscale feel that makes it inviting.
A dark-haired woman bustles around behind the counter making drinks for a few people waiting by the register, but I only glance at her briefly before I zero in on my reason for coming today—the woman sitting at the back corner table with her eyes locked on me looking like she just saw a ghost.
Okay, maybe not so inviting…
At least, not to me.
I had hoped giving Bishop a few days to cool off after the way she left me in the park might have earned me a warmer welcome, but apparently she’s still pissed and thinks I was trying to somehow judge her life when all I wanted was for her to take a step back and do something for herself.
Burnout is very real, and Bishop is approaching it fast.
It didn’t take long for me to see that, and I can only imagine her family has noticed it and said something, too. Which is likely why she reacted that way the other night.
When something has become your entire life and the people you care about tell you that you have to take a step back, it’s hard. When someone you barely know tells you the same thing, it’s infuriating.
I know that from personal experience…
All the women around the table with Bishop turn to look at me as I move farther into the café, several sets of eyes widening. The blonde sitting next to her leans over and whispers something that has Bishop blinking and shaking her head slightly before she pushes up out of her seat.
I don’t even make it to the counter before she intercepts me.
She deftly blocks me from advancing any farther, setting her booted feet wide to solidify her stance and make herself more difficult to move—as if I’d even try. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Spreading open my hands, I glance around at the customers and raise a brow. “Getting a cup of coffee?”
Bishop scowls, crossing her arms over her chest and puffing it out in a probably unconscious move to make herself look bigger as I tower over her by at least a foot.
She may not have size, but what she lacks there, she makes up for in tenacity and strength.
This woman could take down a man bigger than me and can absolutely handle herself in any situation without any help.
I don’t have a single doubt about that after seeing her in action, and right now, it looks like she wants to go to full-on battle with me in her cousin’s coffee shop.
“You can get coffee anywhere, Gage.”
I grin as I step even closer, purposely invading her personal space to try to rattle her. “I can, but the thing is, I’ve been looking for this woman who seems to be avoiding me.”
Her shoulders stiffen, and her eyes dart away toward the counter. “I’m not avoiding you.”
“Oh, really? Then look at me.”
Her gaze snaps back to meet mine, and I can see how much willpower it takes for her to actually keep it there. She so badly wants to run from me again, but lucky for her, I’m not afraid of a good chase, and she has nowhere to go in here without making a scene.
“You ran away from me the other night…”
She swallows thickly. “I did not.”
“You did.” I keep my voice low, not wanting to draw any additional attention to us when we already have such a huge audience. “And I get it, I really do. You didn’t like the fact that I called you out on a truth you’re not ready to face.”
That fiery anger that seems to act like an aphrodisiac for me flares in her eyes. “Who the hell do you think you are, Gage?”
I close the distance between us and grab her arm, knowing full well it could be a bad choice, considering how easily she put my face on the floor at the club.
“I’m the man who wants what’s best for you, who wants to see more of you, who wants to get to know you better, who wants you, but you keep shutting me out. ”
And saying all that is probably a really bad choice on my part.
But it’s out there now, hanging in the air between us and thickening it.
Before Bishop can say anything, the woman from behind the counter appears beside us, grinning ear to ear. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch her eyes dipping to where my hand is wrapped around Bishop’s bicep. “Hi, I’m Angie. And you are?”
I keep my gaze locked on Bishop, waiting to see how she’s going to react—like the hellcat I know lies beneath the beautiful surface who will flip me on my ass and kick me out, or the woman who laid on that blanket with me the other night in the park and let a crack form in this wall surrounding her for one brief moment.
A second passes.
Another.
When she finally tears her eyes away from mine to look at the woman, I allow myself to do the same.
She watches us with wide eyes.
“Hi, I’m Gage.”
Her gaze darts down to where my hand still rests on Bishop’s arm, and then she shoots an inquisitive look toward Bishop, likely wondering who the hell she’s allowing to touch her like this.
Before she’s forced to offer an explanation, I grin at Angie. “I’m a friend of Bishop’s.”
Friend.
I despise that word.
Not because I don’t want to be her friend.
Because it makes what I feel when I’m around her sound so trivial when it’s anything but.
If that’s all it were, I wouldn’t be thinking about her all the time. I wouldn’t be spending my nights remembering how amazing kissing her was or how fucking incredible her cunt contracting around my fingers felt, not to mention how she tasted…
Angie’s gaze widens slightly along with her smile. “Oh. Wonderful. Can I get you a drink?”
“I’d love a triple shot of espresso.”
Her cousin raises a brow. “You want anything in that?”
I shake my head. “Just the caffeine, thanks.”
Something tells me I’m going to need it to handle the showdown Bishop seems intent to have.
Angie continues to grin at me, darting her gaze between us a few times before she hustles back around the counter to make my drink.
As soon as she’s sure Ang is far enough away again, Bishop leans in toward me. “You get your drink, and then, you get out of here.”
I laugh at how deeply serious she sounds, the threat underlying her words. “How come? What if I want to sit and enjoy the space and the pleasant company?”
She scowls again.
Good God, does she look cute when she does that.
For some reason, the more she tries to pretend that whatever this is between us doesn’t exist, the more I want to prove to her that it does. Seeing that blaze inside of her ignite each time I nudge her is enough to keep me addicted to the burn of it.
Astrid waves us over to the table Bishop vacated, the big grin spread across her face enough to say that at least someone is happy to see me.
Even if it is the wrong woman.
“Your cousin is waving us to the table.”
Bishop glances over her shoulder. “Fuck.” The word rushes out on a heavy breath filled with the same annoyance as the look she gives me when she turns back. “Come on. But you’re leaving as soon as you get your drink.”
I release her arm and hold up my hands in surrender. “Whatever you say, Hellcat.”
She hisses. “Don’t call me that.”
Chuckling low, I follow her to the table, completely aware of how all the women seated there assess me the entire way. Their gazes sweep over me, from my boots up my jeans, T-shirt, leather jacket and over my hair that I’m sure is disheveled after wearing my helmet on the ride here.
Bishop reaches her seat and retakes it, leaving me standing facing an entire table of Hawke women. “Girls, this is Gage. Gage, these are my cousins. Allie, Kennedy, Jack, and you know Astrid. The one behind the counter making your drink is Allie’s sister, Angelina.”
I smile at all of them, meeting each of their inquisitive gazes, and watch as several try to fight a grin. “Nice to meet all of you, and to see you again, Astrid.”
Kennedy leans her elbows on the table, resting her face in her manicured hands, her bright red lips curled in a devious grin. “So, Gage, how do you know Bishop?”
Bishop tosses her a look that could kill—something I’m quite sure Kennedy has seen often given the way she completely ignores it.
“We met at the club.”
Jack snorts, eyeing me with cool calculation. “From what I hear, she kicked your ass.”
They share a laugh at my expense—all of them except Bishop, who looks ready to either slaughter them with her bare hands or slide under the table to hide.
Maybe both.
I run my hand through my hair and nod. “That she did. And I told her how impressive it was.”
Bishop’s back stiffens again, that guard of hers seated firmly in place.
Apparently, my compliment didn’t land the way I hoped it would.
She’s so on edge with me here that she can’t even relax enough to accept it for what it was.
Astrid nods. “I’m sure it was. You should see her in the ring. Are you going to come back to the gym?”
“I plan to. Hopefully in the next few days.” If Bishop doesn’t kill me first. “I’ll text your brother.”
She grins. “I’m sure he’d love to have you around more. Finding someone he can actually spar with has been difficult lately.”
I chuckle, remembering what it felt like to get struck by Atlas “The Hurricane” Hawke even when we weren’t going anywhere near all-out. “I bet. And I have the bruises to prove that even in sparring mode and not full strength, the man is dangerous.”
The Hawke women all nod their agreement, save for Bishop, who sits absolutely still, as if she’s holding her breath and just waiting for this to be over and for me to leave.
Allie watches me carefully. “So, other than kick your ass, what do you and my cousin do together?”
Kennedy almost chokes on her coffee with her sputtered laugh, and Bishop appears ready to leap across the table at both of her cousins when Angie arrives carrying my drink.
“Here you go, Gage. A black triple espresso.”
“Thank you.” I accept the travel cup from her. “How much do I owe you?”
She waves me off, squeezing my arm gently. “It’s on the house.” A knowing smirk tugs at her lips. “For a friend of Bishop’s…”
I take a sip of the scalding-hot liquid, the bitterness matching the feeling rolling off Bishop right now.
The good-natured ribbing her family is giving her only seems to have put Bishop in an even worse mood, and I can see why she wanted me to get out of The Grind. She knew this was coming and was trying to intervene before they could get their claws into me—or her.
She glances up at me with a fake smile plastered on her face. “Well, you have your drink…”
Is she really going to tell me to get lost with her family sitting here?
I smirk at her and open my mouth to tell her I think I’ll stay for a bit, when the bells above the door jingle.
Bishop’s head whips that direction and those bourbon eyes darken immediately, icing over as her entire body tenses. Her hand slides down toward what I’m sure is the same gun concealed at her hip that she had when she was with me in the park.
My gut tightens, and I turn to see what has her reaching for a weapon as a man with slicked-back silver hair wearing a perfectly tailored suit walks in and zeroes right in on the entire table of Hawkes with a smile that’s equal parts charming and menacing.