Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 86833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Bishop grins devilishly before correcting it. He gives me a slight kiss on the lips, ever so softly, before he jackknifes up and turns to face Brantley. “Strike two, pup. Don’t let it get to three, ‘cause I’ll enjoy ruining your pretty little face way too much.”
I get up from the ground, swiping the dirt off the back of my pants. Taking Bishop’s hand in mine, I pull him closer to me. “It’s okay.” Whatever problem Brantley has with me, he obviously thinks it’s valid.
Slinging the gun over my shoulder, Nate bends down to pick up Tillie, cradling her into his chest. I watch them closely, slightly confused, until Bishop catches me. “Yeah, I think it’s safe to say the playboy has found his chick.”
“You think?” I ask, head tilted.
Bishop scoffs. “Yeah, pretty much.”
Bishop is talking on the phone when I come out of the shower, clutching my towel. He eyes me walking in, but continues to answer questions on his phone, watching me closely.
“Yeah,” he says. “No, she’s fine.”
I pause, grabbing my clothes out of my bag. “Yeah, I’m fucking sure, Dad. Call it off.”
Hope flares up in my chest, but I bend down and slip my underwear on under my towel, trying to be as quiet as possible. “Okay,” he murmurs. “Yeah, deal.”
Deal? What deal?
He hangs up his phone and then stands, walking toward me. The late afternoon sun setting shines through the windows, glowing against his tanned skin. “It’s done. He knows. I have to talk with him when I get home, but I think I convinced him enough to not chase you.”
I drop the towel. “Shall we celebrate, then?”
He smirks, walking toward me and pulling off his shirt. “Abso-fucking-lutely.”
I’M DRUNK, AND AS MUCH as I’ve tried to give myself a pep talk, there’s no denying that.
No, Madison, the ground is not supposed to spin like that. And, no, Madison, there are not two Bishops. But I’m happy and in good company. Since Bishop got off the phone with his dad, everything has calmed down significantly. The tension Brantley has been throwing my way has died off immensely, so much so I’m pretty sure I’ve caught him smiling at me a couple of times.
We all decided to spend one more night here and head back to The Hamptons tomorrow, and then back to school the next day. If I’m honest, I have a lot of bookwork to catch up on when I get back, so to say I can’t wait to be home, in my bed, is an understatement. Not that I haven’t enjoyed being here with Bishop and, admittedly, the other guys, but home is home, and my bed is far too amazing to swap for something in the forest.
“Hey.” Tillie nudges me, taking a seat on the log beside me.
“Hey back.” I smile at her, moving my hair out of my face and letting out a long breath. The flame from the bonfire heats my flesh, and I close my eyes, a smile spreading across my face. I open my eyes, bringing my drink to my lips.
“So you and Bishop are a thing?” she asks with a quirked eyebrow, taking a small sip of her drink.
“Well, I mean… you and Nate?” I retort.
She smiles. “Touché.”
“Just be careful,” I whisper to her. “I know. He’s Nate, and he’s very charming… and he has that damn tongue ring.”
She bursts out laughing and then covers her mouth with her hand to keep from spitting out her drink. “Sorry, but word! It’s the tongue ring,” she teases. Though we both know that’s not true. She looks across from us, and I follow her line of sight, my eyes falling on Bishop, who is staring at me so intently it has me shuffling in my seat—or log. “Seriously?” Tillie shakes her head in disbelief. “It should be illegal for any man to be that good-looking.”
“Who, Nate?” I ask, because yes, Nate is very pretty.
“No.” She shakes her head, swallowing her drink. “Bishop. I see the appeal and why everyone—and I mean everyone—wants him. I mean”—she rolls her eyes—“look at him. Who wouldn’t want him?”
“I’m hoping you.” I laugh sarcastically before turning serious. “Seriously, I have enough girls to worry about chasing after him. I don’t want to have to worry about my friends too.”
She laughs, her head tilting back. “No, you don’t have to worry about me.” I look back at Bishop again to catch him still staring at me. The orange hues of the flame ignite his cheeks, adding a blush to his tan complexion. Tillie leans into me. “And I wouldn’t worry about him, either. I mean, he’s never been a whore anyway, always selective and secretive. He’s always had the unattainable reputation. But with you, though?” she murmurs, almost to herself. “I don’t know. It’s different. You’re different to him.”