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After riding the wave of adrenaline all the previous day, I’d fully expected that the moment my body was horizontal, I would be asleep.
But I was wrong. I was so fucking wrong.
Because while my body was desperate to get the sleep it needed, my mind straight-out refused to shut down.
“I am. Chocolate cake, to be exact. Because after the shit show that was yesterday, I think I deserve it,” I answered, cracking a couple of eggs into the bowl before running through the list of ingredients in my mind, checking that I had everything.
It was a recipe my mom used to make when I was upset, and we always made it together, so I knew it like the back of my hand.
“That mean you aren’t going to share?”
I turned, expecting to give him some sassy retort, but the words soon caught in my throat.
He stood in the archway to the kitchen, shirtless, wearing only a pair of gray sweatpants that sat low on his hips. I noted the tattoos that completely covered his arms didn’t extend onto his shoulders and chest—a detail I’d missed the first time we’d met and found ourselves in a similar predicament. The rest of his skin was left clean, and while I wasn’t quite sure why, I appreciated the unobstructed view of his perfectly carved abs and pecs.
Everything about Bishop screamed masculinity.
And the feminist in me was appalled that I found that specific trait so damn attractive. Thankfully, with Bishop, there was so much more than muscles and some chest hair, and I was quite capable of appreciating the strength I saw in his body and knowing it was reflected in his mind.
He spoke with the intelligence of an old soul. He was a leader and protector, and he never asked for anything in return.
His right eyebrow arched questioningly. “Guess that’s a no.”
I shook my head several times, trying to find my wits again before finally forcing a smile. “I’ll share if you take me to the apartment today so I can see it.”
“A judge might call that extortion.”
“Bribery at best.”
He chuckled lightly and reached up, scrubbing his hand through his messy hair, accentuating the gentle V that dipped beneath the waist of his pants from his abdomen. I could have stood and stared forever, but the gun he held at his side quickly broke my focus.
“You always bring a gun to breakfast?”
He looked down at the weapon, shaking his head. “It’s usually only Calli who does stupid shit in my house at stupid hours of the morning, and since I knew it wasn’t her, I grabbed it.” He placed the gun on the small kitchen table and pulled out a seat, falling into it. There was a dining room in the next room, but it was like it didn’t even exist. Bishop and the boys always used this small circular table in the center of the large kitchen.
I’d seen twelve men squeeze in around this thing rather than moving to the dining room next door, where they’d have twice the space.
But something about this kitchen made this part of the house feel like home for them.
“Sorry I woke you,” I told him, turning away again and continuing to mix the batter. “I held out as long as possible before I got up.”
I hurried to pour the cake batter into a tin and slide it into the oven, stepping back and letting out a satisfied sigh.
The baking had been the distraction I needed. It kept my hands and mind busy.
It kept the toxic thoughts at bay.
“I don’t think taking you around there to see the damage is really going to help you get through this,” Bishop announced, forcing me to turn and face him. “I heard you tell Calli how you had been struggling to sleep, and I know you don’t think I missed the way Calli’s bed creaks every time someone rolls over in it. I made it that way.”
My mouth dropped open, and I choked on a horrified laugh. “You’re not serious. Is that why you put me in Calli’s room instead of the spare room?”
While Bishop said he had sorted the problem at hand, we’d decided the previous day that it would be safer for me to stay with him for a little while until they could be sure things had calmed down, and we could be sure it was done. Staying here at his place instead of the clubhouse was the compromise because, while I adored the boys, living with a dozen single men and a handful of club girls just seemed like it might be a bit awkward for all parties.
I’d stayed at Bishop’s before when Calli and I used to visit, plus we were there almost every weekend, so it had become kind of like a second home anyway. This time, though, Bishop insisted I might be more comfortable in Calli’s room than in the guest room, which he insisted was ‘dusty and fucking disgusting.’
“It’s one of the reasons I put you in there,” he admitted with a shrug. “Short of sleeping in the fucking bed with you, I wanted to make sure I knew where you were during the night. You can take that however the hell you like, but it doesn’t change the fact that I’m fucking tired from waking up every half hour last night to you rolling over or rustling around, so I can only imagine how exhausted you must be.”
I wanted to be angry and tell him I didn’t appreciate him keeping tabs on me, but it wasn’t anger that reared its head first.
