Page 27 of Bishop

Again, I laughed. This man was incorrigible! And dangerous, I reminded myself. He was an ex-con and a member of a notorious MC. And from what I’d read about the Devil’s Riders online, it wasn’t a peaceful biker club, if there even was such a thing. They were hard-core, like-minded men who didn’t take shit from anyone but doled it out however they damn well pleased. At least, that’s what Google had to say about them.

I was guessing the reason Matty went to jail had something to do with them as well. And because I had no desire to follow in my mother’s footsteps, I didn’t care to find out the answer to that question. I wasn’t about to get ensnared in Club politics. I couldn’t afford to.

“We’ve got a bonfire coming up this Saturday,” Matty said. “It’s the first of the season. There’ll be a ton of people from the Club there as well as other MCs. We need someone to help out with the food. I can’t think of anyone better than you. The guys are still raving about your meatball sliders and strawberry cake. It pays exceptionally well, and you’ll earn my gratitude for life. What do you say?”

I wanted the paycheck, but I couldn’t risk the proximity to this sexy as hell biker. I wasn’t a masochist. How much self-restraint could one girl be expected to endure?

I frowned, thinking it over some before confessing, “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

Matty reached out and snagged the application for the waitressing job tucked under the paper bag my muffin had been resting on. “So, this is just for the fun of serving coffee to ungrateful clients who will scream at you because they’re having a bad day, and leave you an even worse tip for your troubles?”

Damn him for being so perceptive. “It’s hard starting a new business,” I said defensively. “I need to make a little extra cash here and there to help keep me afloat.”

“You’re right. It is hard. Therefore, it would be foolish to turn away well-paying clients that will continue to be repeat customers,” Matty logically reasoned.

He was breaking down any good argument I had. “Well, there isn’t much time for me to prepare. What are you looking for?”

Matty’s gaze traveled down the length of my body, and I squeezed my thighs together to stop the tingling sensation he invoked there.

“Angel’s in charge of that, but I’m sure she’d be happy with any help you can give. She’s overwhelmed and I want to lighten her load,” he kindly explained.

I caved. I’m not sure what got me. The money. The promise of future clients. Or his blinding charisma. Maybe it was a combination of all three. But I was suckered in.

“Okay,” I relented. “I can’t promise how much I’ll be able to do, but I’ll call Angel and get started on a basic menu.”

Bishop grinned that boyish grin of his. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a wad of hundred-dollar bills and handed it to me. I didn’t want to do anything so crass as count it in front of him, but I knew there must be at least a couple thousand dollars there.

“Take this to get started. When you want more, text me and I’ll personally deliver whatever you need,” he told me with a wink, a definite double-entendre to his statement.

My eyes lifted from the cash up to his. “This should be fine for now.”

His phone pinged with a text, and he quickly scanned it. “I gotta go. But you haven’t heard the last of me. I’ll be calling you later tonight, Evie. Make sure you answer.”

Standing, Bishop pulled me to my feet and into his arms. His mouth, warm and inviting, landed on mine. When our lips met, the world faded away and I melted into his arms like a gooey marshmallow over a cozy campfire.

When he released me, I was dizzy. Catching my breath, I could feel the entire room staring in our direction.

Bishop could too. Giving my rear a squeeze and all the lookie-loos a show, he whispered into my ear, “See you soon, Babe.”

As he walked out, I heard the young teen at the counter complain to her fellow waitress that she wished she had friends who looked and kissed like the gorgeous man in leather.

Embarrassed for causing a scene, I quickly scooped up my coffee and muffin and headed back to my car. As I started it up, I heard the tail end of a motorcycle accelerate onto the highway and realized I was well and truly hooked.

* * *

Evie

The menu for the bonfire was simple enough. Burgers, hot dogs, steaks, and an enormous pig being roasted over an open fire. Angel and I had shopped for the first two on the list, but the MC was responsible for sourcing and cooking the pig.

I’d also made some sides to complement the meal. We had all the usual fare you’d see at a cookout. Potato salad, baked beans, pasta salad, macaroni and cheese, and a truck’s worth of mixed greens. For dessert, I made various types of cookies.

Since we didn’t know exactly how many people were coming to the party, we had to assume there would be over a hundred. I’d never cooked for such a large group before, and I was nervous that I’d screw it up. Angel and I prepped over the entire week together and had to make half a dozen visits to large chain box stores to buy in bulk.

By the time Saturday rolled around, I was so stressed I had no fingernails left. I’d bitten them down to stubs. Angel noticed this as we were walking through the grocery store for the umpteenth time.

Grabbing my hand while we were in the produce aisle, she shook her head. “Do you always do this?”

I shrugged. It was a terrible habit I’d picked up as a child and couldn’t shake as an adult. “Yeah, I’m afraid so.”

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