Bishop: A True Lover's Story

“I understand,” Bishop grumbled.

Edison took a deep breath as Bishop walked over to him. He didn’t stop until they were a few inches apart. He gazed down on him in that way that made Edison’s skin tight and his stomach flip. “It’s not too big a job and I’ll take it. But… but I have to speak with you first, Edison.”

He frowned at Bishop’s sudden seriousness, but quickly nodded his head and led them back inside. They both stopped and stood at the breakfast bar, and it was then that Edison noticed Bishop’s hands shaking.

“Can I use your bathroom?” Bishop asked.

“Of course. Down the hall. Second door on the left.” Edison went in the kitchen. “I’ll grab us some waters.”

“Okay,” was all Bishop said as he left the room with his shoulders rigid.

What just happened? He knew he wasn’t good at the whole attraction thing but what’d he say that was so wrong? Edison replayed everything in his mind from the moment Bishop had pulled up in his driveway because that was what he did. He overthought things. They’d been fine at that point. Bishop had even flirted with him in his kitchen. It was something he said when they were in the backyard that upset Bishop.

Bishop’s footsteps down the hall were slow, as if he was on his way to face his doom. When he turned the corner, the look of weariness and frustration etched all over his rugged features made Edison nervous. What the heck had happened? “Bishop. Are you okay? Here, sit down, I poured you a glass of water.”

Chapter Seventeen

Bishop

He wanted nothing more than to leave out of the front door with his head hanging low and his spirit defeated, but he wasn’t that kind of man. He didn’t run and he didn’t cower. But he wished he knew what power Edison had over him already. He took the glass of water offered to him, all the while wanting so much more of what this gentle man had to give. When they’d been in the kitchen earlier and Bishop had let his guard down a fraction to feel some of Edison’s goodness, he’d momentarily forgotten how different their worlds were. And it’d only taken a second for him to realize he was so far out of his league it wasn’t funny.

Edison talked about creating a space specifically for reading because he probably thought Bishop was smart and loved to read, too. But he was wrong. Bishop loved stories and escaping reality, but he didn’t love to read. Edison only wanted someone on his property he could trust, and the moment he’d said that, Bishop knew he was no longer qualified. No one wanted a man around who’d been convicted of accessory to armed robbery.

He drank the entire glass of water but his mouth was still a desert. “Can I have another glass, Edison?” Bishop croaked, barely maintaining his eye contact.

“Did I say something wrong?” Edison retrieved a bottle of water from his refrigerator and set it in front of him.

Bishop didn’t bother pouring the water into the glass, instead turning it up and downing half of it while Edison fidgeted beside him. He just needed to spit it out. Anyone else he’d tell to fuck off, that his personal business was his damn business. But, he couldn’t do that with Edison if he ever wanted him to truly look at him as he was.

“I just wanted to clear a few things up about me.” Bishop coughed roughly into his palm, his voice getting caught in his throat. “I think you may have gotten the wrong idea. I um. I don’t own Stockley Lawn Services. My dad does. Well, him and his best friend Manny. I don’t… I run the crews and do most of the designing. But I didn’t put together that fancy bid or nothing.” Bishop dropped his hand to the counter. “I don’t do any of the paperwork or business stuff. I just fucking draw and cut.”

Edison blinked then huffed what sounded like a relieved breath.

Well shit.

“That’s it?” Edison walked into the kitchen and pulled a plate from his cabinet. One by one, he began plating those cookies that were cooling on the island, while glancing up at him with a slight smile. “You work with your father. That must be nice.”

“Excuse me?” Bishop frowned.

Edison seemed surprised. “What? You don’t like it? Does he ride you hard?”

Bishop shook his head, a bit confused. “No. He’s cool. Annoyingly cool.”

Edison laughed. “I don’t care if you’re the owner, Bishop. I mean. You’re still… great. And good at your job.” Edison bit half a cookie, then licked the few crumbs off his bottom lip and started chewing slowly, distracting Bishop from what he was saying. “Besides, my pop owned his barbering business, not me, and I used to work at his shop. It catered to older men and I loved spending every free second I had there. Listening, watching, learning.”