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“So this is where you make all your little dishes, huh?”
My nose wrinkles at the way he says it. I know he doesn’t mean anything by it, but it sure sounds like a complete write-off of what I do.
“No, I make all my pieces at my house,” I say, collecting the last bricks of remaining unused clay and putting them into a plastic bin then sealing it closed. “You done with practice for the day?”
He nods. “Yep. Went short today. Weather’s been pretty shit. Might need to finally give up on field work and move into the weight room.”
“At least you’ll be warm,” I offer, grinning.
I hang up my apron on the rack in the corner then pick up my purse and head over to where he’s standing near the door.
“You heading home for the night?”
“Yep. Have a bunch of work to get done.”
He hums as I grab my coat from the hook by the door and shrug it on.
“Hey, listen, Gabriela…I’ve been thinking about it, and I was wondering if you’d like to grab dinner with me sometime.”
I freeze, surprise rolling through my body.
“We could head into town—Dock 7, maybe—or we could go down the mountain and do something outside the typical Cedar Point wheelhouse, you know? Mix things up.”
I blink a few times, trying to find the right words to say. There are a million reasons I could give him for why I need to say no, and at least half of them have to do with the fact that things between Bishop and me are far too complicated for me to be dating anyone.
Ultimately, though, I don’t want to share that, so I just speak honestly.
“Look, Sam…I’m not sure it’s such a good idea.”
“Before you turn me down,” he says, holding a finger up, a smile on his face, “you should know I already cleared it with Bam. He said it wasn’t an issue, and he gave his blessing.”
I’m so stunned I’m almost sure I misheard what Sam actually said.
“He…what?”
Sam’s eyes search my face for a long beat, and then his face pinches slightly. “It’s only now occurring to me that hearing that doesn’t make things better for you, does it.” He says it like a statement, not a question, because he already knows it to be true.
My nostrils flare, and a million things race through my head. Things I want to say to Sam. To Bishop. To men in general who somehow think women are still property to be passed along with their blessing.
Instead, I just grit my teeth. “No. Can’t say that it does.”
Before he can say anything else, I storm past him and outside, the sound of the door echoing loudly after I fling it wide and it slams into the wall.
The fucking nerve. The absolute audacity. Since when does Bishop have the fucking right to give other men his blessing to…to what? To take me out? Screw me? Marry me? Who knows? What I do know is that Bishop Andrew Mitchell is going to get a piece of my mind.
I peel out of the parking lot and head down the main highway, the drive to the Mitchell house taking less than ten minutes. He must have gotten home from school just a few minutes before me, because the garage is open and he looks to be unloading things from the back of his 4Runner. I throw my car in park and shove my door open, stepping out onto the driveway then slamming my door shut.
But before I can do anything, I hear my name.
“Is that Gabriela Ventura?”
I turn, spotting Patty Mitchell at the front door, a wide smile on her face.
Shit.
Bishop’s mom is one of those women you can’t help but wish was your own mom: kind and caring and always showing up for her kids, but firm and clear about what the rules are.
A sad biproduct of my breakup with Bishop is the awkwardness I’ve felt whenever I’ve bumped into Patty in public. She’s a sweetheart, of course, always remembering little things and inquiring about my life. I mean, she was a maternal figure for me from the very first time I stepped through her front door when Bishop and I worked on a history project together in the seventh grade.
