Bishop

by Sawyer Bennett

  I shake my head hard to dislodge the disbelief clouding it, because I’d been so sure that he was going to hire Nanette. I mean, I’m not sure I could compete with blow jobs, plus I had that whole “assault by my boyfriend” thing to my detriment.

  “Um…Sebastian…” I say, then stand up from my desk. I walk to my office door and close it. “We need to have a talk first.”

  Sebastian bolts upright in his chair, looking wildly at the door. “Does it have to be done with closed doors?”

  “Yes,” I assure him, because I don’t want anyone hearing this. “But I’ll be brief.”

  He never relaxes, but sits ramrod straight in his chair as I sit behind my desk. “I’m very interested in this job, but I need to know if things are cool between us. I get you’ve got me reporting directly to someone else, but you’re still ultimately my boss.”

  “Listen, Brooke,” he says, tugging at the knot on his tie again. “I am really sorry about that in the conference room. I’m going to be honest…I was flirting with you and was trying to gauge your interest. It was the wrong way to go about it, and I had no idea you were dating anyone, much less Bishop Scott. It was wrong and it made you uncomfortable and there’s no excuse. So yes, you’ll be reporting directly to Charity, not me. I can assure you that you will get nothing from me but sincere respect and professionalism. Besides, I like my arms unbroken.”

  This last part has me smiling, and I cannot hear a hint of deception in his voice. He kept eye contact with me the entire time, and I think it might say something about his seriousness that he’s offering a job to a woman he made a very unprofessional move on. He must truly believe that I could do a lot of good for this organization.

  “When would you want me to start?” I ask him, already trying to calm my excitement. I have to call Bishop and tell him. Then I’ll run down to my dad’s office. He’ll be thrilled, of course.

  “Right now,” he says as he stands up from his chair. “We’ll get your office moved today. I’ve already talked to Bill and he’s prepared to go to New York in your place if you accept.”

  Bill Roland is the director of team services and if I leave, would be the only employee left in that group. It’s a job he can handle very easily without me, but I’m sad that I won’t be going to New York with Bishop. That’s going to be the part that absolutely sucks about this deal.

  But I need this to happen. If I want to make Phoenix my home, and I want to have a career that I could love, I need to take this offer. I stand up and offer my hand. “I accept.”

  Sebastian gives me a warm smile as he gives me the briefest of shakes. “Excellent. I’ll get the paperwork started. Charity will want to see you, but I’m guessing you might want to tell a few people the good news first.”

  “You read my mind,” I say with a grin, snatching my phone off my desk. I’ll call Bishop first, then go see my dad.

  Sebastian moves to the door, and when it’s open, he looks over his shoulder at me. “Are we good, Brooke?”

  “We’re good,” I tell him earnestly. “Fresh start.”

  “Fresh start,” he agrees, and then he’s gone.

  Turning my attention back to my phone, I pull up Bishop’s number to call him.

  He answers on the first ring. “Hey, babe, you get my message?” he asks.

  “Um…no,” I say in confusion.

  “I just texted you a few minutes ago,” he says, and I can tell he’s on speakerphone while he’s driving. “Nanette called me. Your hot water faucet handle in the guest bathroom finally fell off, and of course the water’s running full tilt. I’m on my way over there to fix it right now.”

  Nanette had told me about the loose handle on the very first day she used the bathroom and I’d been meaning to get it fixed. But it just sort of held on so it wasn’t a priority.

  Am I surprised she called Bishop? Maybe a little. I mean, why not call me first?

  I tap the speakerphone button on my phone and flip to my phone log. “Hold on a minute.”

  Well look at that…she did try to call me while I was meeting with Sebastian, but I always keep my ringer off when I’m in the office. I flip to my texts, and she also shot me a text that it was broken and she was going to try Bishop first and then a plumber if she couldn’t reach him.

  It may be that Nanette truly is turning into a very good roommate, and I’m wondering if I should offer to rent her a room if she decides to stay here. I mean, she’s definitely not getting the job, and I wonder when Sebastian will let her know.

  Or even if he will?

  I should have asked him about it, but I feel weird doing so. There’s still a part of me that doesn’t even want to believe what happened between him and her.

  “Babe,” Bishop calls into the phone, and it startles me.

  “Oh gosh…sorry. Daydreaming.”

  “If you didn’t get my message, what did you call for?” he asks.

  “I got the job in merchandising,” I tell him, not able to contain the excitement in my voice, but I do try to mute it a tad because I really don’t know how he’ll feel about it.

  “That’s awesome,” he shouts, and I imagine him giving a fist pump in his car. “Did you have a talk with Sebastian?”

  “I did,” I say. “And it’s good. I really think it’s good, and besides that, I’m working under Charity Priest on the manufacturing side. More money, more ability to get promoted.”

  “It’s a no-brainer then,” he tells me. “When do you start?”

  “I already have,” I tell him almost apologetically.

  He gives a sigh that sounds as if he’s dying. “So you’re not coming east with us?”

  “Sorry,” I say even more apologetically.

  “Fuck,” he says, as if he just realized something.

  “What?”

  “I’m going to have to figure out how to have an actual conversation with Tacker,” he grumbles.

  Laughing, I commiserate. “Poor baby. But I’m sure you’ll do just fine.”

  “Can we do lunch today then?” he asks. “I’d like to see you before we leave.”

  “I thought you were helping Dax look for a new car today.”

  “Yeah…spend time with Dax or you,” he says, weighing the words with his tone of voice. “I think I’ll choose you.”

  “You got me then,” I reply softly.

  Man, does he have me.

  Chapter 28

  Bishop

  The house is quiet when I walk in. Brooke had given me a key last week. Actually on the day she and I agreed to extend our charade. She was tentative when she did it, I think fearful that I would take that as being too much, too fast.

  I didn’t, though, and gladly gave her one of my keys, although we rarely hang out at my place.

  The kitchen and living room lights are off, the only light coming from the open windows, which is substantial in itself, as Brooke has a lot of great natural light due to the open layout of this house.

  “Nanette?” I call out as I shut the door behind me.

  “In the guest bathroom,” she calls back.

  I don’t respond but head into Brooke’s kitchen, where she keeps a basic tool set in the pantry. I asked her once why she didn’t put it in her garage and she said she had nothing to fix in the garage.

  It was a fair point.

  After snagging the tool bag, I head through the living room and down the hallway to the guest bathroom. I can hear the water running as I get closer.

  When I turn the corner to enter the bathroom, my eyes go to the tub first. Sure enough, water is running out of the faucet and the hot water handle is gone.

  Then I see Nanette, who is holding the handle out to me with one hand while clutching a towel that’s wrapped around her with the other.

  A miniscule towel.

  Shaking m
y head, I grab the handle before taking a wide step around her to get to the water cutoff valve. “You should get dressed.”

  “I’m getting in the shower as soon as you fix that,” she says, and then her voice turns teasing. “Besides…all my good parts are covered.”

  Gritting my teeth, I don’t respond to her provocation. After shutting the water off, I move back to the faucet to look at what the issue is. It takes only a moment to see a long screw that had held the faucet on had broken and is an easy fix.

  If I had a long screw, which I don’t.

  “You’re going to have to use Brooke’s bathroom—” I say as I turn to look at her, but I’m stunned silent, my words sticking in my throat.

  Nanette stands there before me stark-ass naked, the towel pooled around her feet.

  “Bishop,” she purrs in a throaty voice, dragging her fingertip from the base of her throat down between her breasts. “Let’s have some fun.”

  My eyes stay focused on her face, although I can see enough out of my periphery to know she’s got a great body. But it’s her expression I’m interested in right now, and it tells me everything I need to know.

  Calculation.

  Cunning.

  Malice.

  She’s doing this to hurt Brooke and for no other reason.

  “What in the fuck is your problem?” I snarl at her as I bend over, snatching the towel off the floor. I fling it at her, and it catches her in the face and chest. I get only a glimpse of wide, startled eyes as she pulls the towel away.

  But I’ve turned on my heel and I’m getting the fuck out of Dodge.

  I make it no more than halfway down the hallway before Nanette is pushing past me—still naked—and then turning to plant herself in my path. She actually tries to launch herself at me, but I simply grab on to her shoulders and hold her at arm’s length. She puts on a sultry expression, pursing her lips in a pout. “Come on, Bishop. What man would turn this down? I’ll let you do anything you want. Let you use me however you want.”

  “Jesus fucking Christ, you are tripping, bitch,” I growl as I turn her, keeping my arms locked and her at a safe distance. I let her go and continue my escape to the front door. I make it halfway through the living room before something hits me in my back and thuds on the floor. It catches my shoulder blade and hurts like a motherfucker.

  “Goddamn it,” I roar as I spin back toward Nanette, glimpsing a copper vase at my feet that Brooke had on her TV stand. My eyes cut to Nanette and she has her arm cocked back, getting ready to throw a bookend that looks to be made of something a lot heavier than copper.

  I brace and watch her. She lets it fly and she’s got good fucking aim. It comes straight at my head, but I easily manage to sidestep it, and it hits Brooke’s wall behind me so hard it puts a hole in it.

  “What the fuck is your problem?” I bellow as she turns to find something else to throw. I’m sick of this shit. I rush her, covering the living room in two big strides, and before she can grasp a ceramic fish figurine, I grab her wrist. Twisting it up and behind her back, I ignore the little yelp of surprise and spin her toward the adjacent wall. I walk her into it and press her up against it so she can’t move, one hand holding her wrist behind her back and the other lightly but firmly holding her by the scruff of her neck. Her chest is heaving and she starts throwing curses at me in an endless rant, and I swear I think she might actually be crazy.

  “What is your problem?” I repeat.

  “Your fucking bitch girlfriend is my problem,” she spits out, and tries to struggle loose. I pull her wrist up a bit and she goes deadly still so as not to cause herself pain.

  “What in the hell did Brooke do to you?” I’m absolutely confused. I thought they were getting along better, and while I was skeptical of her change, I was hopeful.

  Apparently my judgment is better than Brooke’s on this issue.

  “She’s always taking what I want. She got the job I wanted in New York, and now here. And that cocksucker Sebastian is going to be fucking sorry about that too. She has the hot hockey star, and the great house, and I fucking want what’s mine. I want a piece of this too.”

  “You are one demented woman,” I mutter as I pull her away from the wall and walk her back to the guest bedroom she was staying in. I give her a tiny push as I release her and she stumbles a few feet before turning to face me. Her chin lifts and she sticks her chest out, all in defiance and not with any sexual meaning at this point.

  “Fuck you, Bishop, and that high and mighty girlfriend of yours.”

  I don’t bother engaging her. I just point at her suitcase on the floor. “Get dressed and get packed up. You’re leaving here now.”

  “Or what?” she sneers at me.

  Pulling my phone from my back pocket, I tell her, “I’m calling the police in five minutes. Pretty sure they’d have no problem with arresting you for assault and destruction of property. So I’d get going if I were you.”

  She makes a growling sound low in her throat, her face an ugly mask of bitterness and hate. For a moment, I’m actually a little concerned about what she might do.

  Thankfully, she spins away from me. Muttering curses and talking to herself under her breath, she gets dressed and starts throwing shit into her suitcase. It takes her about seven minutes but I give her a little leeway, because she’s at least getting it done.

  By the time she’s finished, I have an Uber waiting out front. I even gallantly take her suitcase and carry it to the car. She throws herself into backseat and slams the door shut without a word to me. I go to the driver’s window and watch as his eyes get wide when I bend to talk to him. He rolls down the window and I say, “Know who I am?”

  He nods.

  Pulling my wallet out, I grab a fifty and hand it to him. “Get her to the airport and nowhere else, despite what she might say. Understood?”

  “Yes, Mr. Scott,” he says, taking the money.

  “What’s your name?” I ask him.

  “Devin,” he says eagerly. “Devin Carruthers.”

  “I’ll have four tickets for next week’s home game on the seventh waiting for you. Enjoy.”

  “Awesome, man,” he says with a wide grin.

  I wait until they are out of sight before I pull my phone out and reluctantly call Brooke. She doesn’t answer, but a voicemail won’t do.

  I call her back again, hoping she’ll see and realize it must be important if I called right back again.

  Still no answer.

  Walking into her house, I dial the front office main number. A woman answers, I assume the receptionist I met two days ago when I stopped by to take Brooke to lunch and almost beat the shit out of her new boss. I identify myself and ask her for two favors. To have tickets put in for Devin Carruthers and to find Brooke and ask her to call me. I tell her it’s a slightly urgent matter.

  By the time I pick up the copper vase and the bookend, returning them to their rightful places, Brooke’s number is buzzing on my phone.

  “Hey, babe,” I say with a heavy voice.

  “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” I assure her quickly. “But, um…had a little problem here at your house and I’m going to need you to come home.”

  “What problem?”

  I proceed to tell her all of it. Every nasty thing that Nanette said, not to cause Brooke pain, but so she understands the gravity of the situation. That bitch is crazy.

  “We need to get the locks to your house changed today. It can’t wait. I’m going to call a locksmith now and will stay here until you can get home, but I need you to come right now. Unfortunately, we’re not going to be able to get lunch today.”

  Brooke gives me the reaction I expected. Levelheaded and efficient, without wanting to ask me a million follow-up questions. She just says, “Okay, babe…let me go let Charity know I h
ave an emergency to attend to and I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

  This is good. I’m glad she’s taking it seriously, because I know Nanette has one of her house keys. I would have asked for it back, but why bother? Someone as crazy as that bitch could have had copies made. It’s safest to get new locks, and while he’s at it, I’m going to have the locksmith add some extra dead bolts. I think I’ll also call a security company to see if I can get someone out here to install an alarm today. I’ll pay them fucking double.

  If I can’t, then I’ll just have Brooke stay at my place until I can get back.

  Chapter 29

  Bishop

  Tacker seems surprised when I start undressing after pulling out a pair of gym shorts and a T-shirt to put on so I can relax a bit.

  “You’re not going out?” he asks as he nabs his shave kit from his travel duffel.

  “Nah,” I say with a shake of my head. “Don’t feel like it.”

  He makes a grunting noise of acknowledgment—at least that’s what I think it is—before heading into the bathroom and shutting the door behind him.

  Grabbing my phone, I hop onto my bed and call Brooke. It’s only 8:30 P.M. in Phoenix.

  “Hey,” she says, sounding out of breath.

  “What are you doing?” I settle against the headboard and plant my feet on the mattress.

  “I set the damn house alarm off again,” she says in frustration. “I keep forgetting about it. Just now I opened the side door to take the garbage out, and then it’s shrieking at me. The freaking alarm company calls and I tell them it’s a false alarm, so I have to give them a password to prove it. I couldn’t find the paperwork, as I couldn’t remember the password. It’s just…frustrating.”

  Her last words come out clipped and I know she thinks I went overboard on security at her house, but I couldn’t help it. That Nanette chick is a psychopath. I was not happy to be flying to the East Coast for almost an entire week and leaving Brooke behind to fend for herself if Nanette didn’t get on a plane bound for New York liked I’d hoped. The way she flipped out and the violence was one thing, but she was also coldly calculating in her attempt to seduce me so she could hurt Brooke. It’s just fucking scary.