Page 11

Bishop

I let her sleep until ten and used the time to clean the gun I’d kept hidden out of sight in the suitcase I brought to the room with me. She knew I had one, I’d fired it at her, after all, but I wasn’t certain she remembered, and I didn’t want to startle her.

I tapped on the bedroom door twice before opening it. She was a blanket-covered bump in the center of the bed. The only reason I knew she was there was because of the dark red hair spilling across the pillow like blood.

“Eden?” I pitched my voice low so I didn’t scare her.

She didn’t stir.

I moved closer. She was lying face down, an arm thrown above her head and tucked beneath the pillow. One shoulder was bare and uncovered, and the sheets were tucked around her.

“Eden.” I spoke a little louder.

She scowled, a small crease forming above her nose, then turned her face into the pillow. I sat on the edge of the mattress.

“Eden, you need to get up. We’re leaving in an hour.”

“Lemme sleep … bit longer,” she mumbled.

“If you don’t get up in the next five minutes, I’m dragging the sheets away. You remember what happened last time you called my bluff, don’t you?”

Her head turned, eyelashes fluttering and then green eyes, still hazy with sleep, found mine. “Has anyone ever mentioned how bossy you are?”

I scratched my jaw. “Maybe. A time or two.” I stood. “You didn’t try on those clothes last night. I’ve left them at the foot of the bed. There’s a toothbrush in the bathroom, and breakfast waiting in the other room. You have twenty minutes before I come and drag you out of here.”

Her sigh was heavy, but she rolled onto her back and then sat up, clutching the sheet against her chest. Her hair tumbled around her face in a fiery mess, and I had a sudden vision of her on her back, lips parted in pleasure. I blinked and shook my head.

What the fuck was that?

“Twenty minutes,” I said, my voice gruff.

“Or you’ll come and drag me out by my leg. I know, I know. You don’t bluff.” The words were thrown at me around a yawn. “You could at least bring coffee with your threats.”

“Coffee is also waiting for you in the other room. Seventeen minutes, Eden.”

“Yes sir, Mr. Chambers, sir.”

I found myself chuckling again when I turned to leave the room.

“Bishop.”

I stopped and glanced over my shoulder at her hesitant tone. “Yeah?”

“Thank you.” She bit her lip. “I feel like the next couple of days are going to be chaotic, so I wanted to make sure I said thank you now. For helping me.”

Our gazes locked, and then I nodded. “Fourteen minutes, Eden.” I masked a smile at her irritated sigh and left the room.

***

“Is that Cole Spencer? ” We’d been in the air for less than an hour when Eden leaned close to whisper in my ear.

I glanced around the first-class section. “I don’t know who that is.”

“You don’t …” She gaped at me. “How can you not know? He’s the biggest action movie star around.”

“I don’t watch television.”

“Or go to the movies?”

I shook my head.

“ Seriously? How busy do you have to be not to sit down and watch a movie?”

“Busy.”

She sighed and sank back against the seat. “I used to love going to the movies. A big tub of popcorn, a large drink and just lose yourself for a couple of hours.” There was a wistful note to her voice.

I set down the contract I was reading and half-turned toward her. “When was the last time you went?”

“I don’t remember,” she said after a moment’s thought. “When I first started dating Chester maybe. Once I moved in with him, we rarely went out at all.”

“Since you recognized … Cole Spencer, did you say? … I take that to mean you enjoy action movies?”

“Action, comedy, romance, horror. I love it all. I’m a mood watcher.”

“A mood watcher,” I repeated.

Her smile widened, green eyes sparking to life. “Yeah, you know. You pick something to watch based on the mood you’re in, or how you want to feel.”

I’d never heard of anything so odd in my life. “You’re telling me you watch something to make you feel a particular way?”

“Don’t you?” She waved a hand. “Don’t answer that. You said you don’t watch television. What about books? Do you read?”

“I don’t have the time for hobbies.”

“That’s sad. There’s more to life than just work, Bishop.”

Her words struck home, mirroring something my mother had said more than once. My jaw clenched.

Who was she to criticize how I lived my life?

“If that was true, you would still be locked in the trunk of a car.” My voice was clipped.

Her smile faded and she looked away. “If you don’t want to have a conversation, all you have to do is say so.”

I let out a quiet sigh.

How the fuck did she manage to make me feel bad for telling the truth?

“I never said that, but you can’t deny I’m right. If I wasn’t invested in my work as much as I am, I wouldn’t have been there that night. Maybe I wouldn’t have even been suggested to you.”

“By that argument, I wouldn’t have been in the trunk in the first place. So, in actual fact, I could say that the fact you’re a clear workaholic is why I ended up in the trunk of that car.”

“My work ethic is why I’m the best at what I do.”

“Your work ethic is going to kill you. Everyone needs to relax now and then.”

“I relax.”

“You said you don’t have time for hobbies. How do you relax?”

“I work out.”

Her eyes narrowed as she stared at me. “You work out,” she repeated.

“You have a problem with that?”

“You work out to relax?”

“I need to be in peak condition. My job can be dangerous. If I’m not fit and—”

“So, you’re not relaxing, are you?” She pointed a finger at me. “Working out is part of your routine, part of your job .”

“Can’t it be both?”

“Do you stop thinking about work when you do your exercise routine?” There was a challenge in her tone.

“So now I can’t think about work either?” I arched an eyebrow, amused despite myself, and curious to see where she was taking this. “My plan was to use this engagement party as a semi-vacation.”

“You’re going to spend a weekend doing nothing work-related?”

“That was my plan, and then you showed up.”