Page 47 of Switched

I don’t think I need to worry about anything happening, as long as I don’t start falling for them.

I know Scarlett would never have asked me to do this if she didn’t believe these guys to be harmless.

I sip the rest of my water until the bottle’s empty, and I get to my feet just as I hear someone coming back down the hall.

Bishop stops at the door. He’s in a new shirt, and he looks a whole lot less murderous.

“Hey,” he murmurs. “How are you feeling?”

“Better now that I had a snack,” I admit, trying not to notice how good he looks.

It’s impossible. He’s a ten.

“Good,” he says, flashing a smile.

“Can you point me to the bathroom?” I ask.

“Right over here,” he tells me, opening the door across the hall. “I need to go out for a couple things, but I’ll be back in an hour. Tell Rueben if you run out of anything you need. I can grab it while I’m gone.”

“Sure, thanks.” I give him a smile, my heart sinking just a little.

If I wasn’t here as Scarlett, I might be disappointed that he didn’t come back to keep talking to me.

As it is, things are complicated enough. I seriously don’t need to be crushing on guys who have the major hots for my sister. I don’t need the emotional flashbacks to every high school crush I ever developed.

High school was definitely the worst. Going to college in the city together was a little less awful.

We found our own groups there, and the guys we were interested in were completely different.

She still got way more attention than me, but I was used to that by then.

It didn’t bother me.

Not like this does.

I slip into the bathroom while Bishop leaves the house.

It’s only a week. I can handle it.

I really hope so.

Chapter twenty-four

Bishop

Grocery shopping used to be an early morning task, before I found out Scarlett’s housemate Cleo does her fresh food shop mid-morning on a Friday. It feels a little sneaky to meet her for coffee, but she’s become a friend, and I could really use some advice about what’s going on with my true mate. Cleo might understand what’s going on with that.

If not, she’s always a good sounding board.

I head out early enough to get what I need to make meals over the weekend, and once the Jeep is packed up with the groceries, I cross over to the coffee shop at the corner of the marketplace.

As usual, when we meet for coffee, Cleo’s already at the table at the back of the room, a bag full of berries and fresh cut roses sitting on the empty chair beside her. The tall redhead has a glamorous style that really turns heads in Silver Valley, which she admits she cultivates because it puts up a barrier that most people don’t want to have to navigate past. It weeds out the unsavory types, as she would say.

“Jack!” she calls out, waving me over.

I wave back and put in my order at the counter before I head over to the table.

“How’s it going today, Cleo?”

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