Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 88225 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88225 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
“Bishop, bro. We were in the middle of a game. Get your ass back out here,” Thrush groans.
Bishop scoffs down the rest of his burger and hot dogs, then shoots me a wink. I’m left speechless, watching after him. He just became sexy on an all-new level.
I clench my thighs and chant to myself how nothing can happen. He is my boss. A very nice guy, but my boss.
“He likes you.”
I turn to Fendi and stare at him for a moment. What did he just see? I hope I’m keeping my thoughts and feelings hidden.
“I think he’s cool too,” I say and look down at the table.
“But he likes you, likes you. You should know that’s not—”
“Yo, Fendi, come on. We need another. You’re up,” Bishop calls, waving him over.
“You’re good for him. That’s all I’m saying,” Fendi says as he stands and raps his knuckles on the table.
I sit bewildered. Does everyone think Bishop and I have something going on between us? I frown to myself, wondering what Fendi was going to say before he was interrupted.
Do your job and make it home, Saga. That’s all you have to do. Do your job, make it home, and stay away from Bishop Love.
CHAPTER 9
Perfection
Bishop
“Good times ahead,” I say the lyrics and frown.
I hate it. This song isn’t saying what I need it to. I feel like I’m forcing it.
Sucking my lip into my mouth, I try to think of something else. The scent of Saga’s perfume floats to me on the wind. I close my eyes and inhale.
“You’re doing an amazing job, by the way,” I say as I look up from my guitar. “That video you posted of me playing the new song went viral and got the label’s attention. They’re losing their shit over the response. They want me to keep playing new stuff on the tour.”
Saga looks up from her laptop and gives me that gorgeous smile. Her hair is blowing in the wind. We’ve been sitting out by the water while I attempt to write a new song.
This little stop has benches and restrooms with a beautiful waterfront view. The sun is out and the air is crisp. However, nothing compares to her beauty and the bright smile she gives me.
“That’s good to hear,” she says.
“Why don’t you just start your own thing? You know, get a few more contracts. You’re smart,” I say as I think about her situation.
“Still need clients and clients come with connections. Blackballed, remember?” she says and frowns.
“Piece of shit,” I mutter to myself.
“You can say that again,” she says, turning back to her laptop.
I go back to musing and strumming my guitar. Saga stands and stretches, drawing my attention. She lifts her arms above her head, causing her shirt to rise and reveal a patch of brown skin and her cute belly button. The leggings she has on are hugging her thick thighs.
The music is forgotten as I lick my lips and start to think about the sexy body beneath her clothes. Damn, I still want her. I know what we agreed to, but I’m growing more attracted to her by the day.
“Do you work out?”
“Not as much as I used to. Had to give up my gym membership,” she replies and shrugs. “Why? Are you calling me fat?”
Her eyes are narrowed, but her lips are twitching up in the corners. I want to reach out and tug her into my lap. There’s nothing fat about her.
“I love a woman with curves. You have the perfect amount of everything,” I say.
As soon as the words are out of my mouth, inspiration hits. I scrap the song I’d been trying to force out and start a new one. The melody comes right to me.
Saga
There’s that look again. His muse is back. I smile as I watch him with his head bent over his guitar. A piece of hair has fallen from his bun and rests on his face.
He looks gorgeous. The way he wraps his arms around his guitar so lovingly makes me remember what those strong arms feel like. They were comforting and warm, like his presence. A girl could get lost resting in arms like those.
My phone rings, breaking my musing. Not wanting to disturb Bishop, I grab it and start to walk off a bit. I twist my lips in indecision when I see it’s my dad.
I sigh. I’m not ready to tell him what’s been going on. He’ll lose his shit. First, he’ll chide me for not telling him. Then he’ll storm in to fix it.
I’m grown, but my father has this tendency to want to run my life when he thinks something can be done better his way. I respect my dad and value his opinion, but he can’t fight my battles for me all my life.