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)
I’ll be honest; the knowledge is sexy all by itself. Then there is the man himself. I don’t know how, but Bishop has grown more attractive.
“Hey, gorgeous. You hungry?” Bishop asks as he stands in the doorway with his arms above his head.
For a moment, all I can do is stare. I heard him, but he looks so good I’m having a hard time thinking. His hair is up, but strands are hanging loose in his face. Those muscled arms are an attention grabber all on their own.
“I’m all grilled cheesed out,” I say, patting my belly.
“We’re stopping for Chinese, smart-ass,” he says with that sexy grin of his.
“In that case, I want beef lo Mein. Oh, and two egg rolls,” I say and lean to reach for my bag.
He moves into the room, snatching my purse out of my reach. I frown up at him. He holds the bag behind his back and glares at me.
“It’s my treat, baby. I’m not going to let you insult me by offering your money,” he says.
“You’ve been treating me since we met. I have a job now, you know,” I huff.
He puts the bag down before climbing over my body to lie beside me. Turning onto his side, he props his head on his hand, looking up at me. I look away, not wanting to get lost in his gaze.
“A job that you’re amazing at,” he says. “Sponsorship offers have been coming in. Our social media accounts are performing three times better than they were. The label has taken notice.”
“That’s great. I wish I could find a way to get the focus off us and those pictures.” I sigh.
Those pictures are where most of my embarrassment has come from. The look on my face as Bishop leaned in to kiss me. My goofy ass stood there all dreamy-eyed and lost. He could’ve been selling me paint for my soul. From the look on my face, I would’ve bought the whole gallon.
Let’s not even talk about the ones of Bishop carrying me while running. I look like a bewildered rag doll. Isha won’t shut up about any of it. I’m sorry Bishop promised her a daily call.
“You’re worrying too much about those. Who cares what they think?”
“I never even thought about my reflection in the pictures of you in your towel. Like, who sat there and magnified the damn picture to point out I was the one taking it?” I say incredulously.
“You would be surprised,” he chuckles.
He has taken all of this a lot better than I have. I was in shock when the pictures from his dressing room we’d posted—only cropped and emphasized to show that I was the one taking it in the background—were reposted. Rumors of Bishop having a relationship with his marketing consultant have been all over the news and entertainment rags.
Each time I try to spin it, they’ve been turning it right back around. It doesn’t help that they now have pictures of him carrying me around in Nashville and South Carolina. We’ve been inadvertently fueling the flame.
“How’s the ankle?” he asks, but from the look on his face, I can tell he’s thinking something else.
“It’s better.”
“Hopefully you’ll be back on your feet for Atlanta.”
“I hope so. I need to find a place to clean my clothes while we’re there.”
“I’ll send them out with my things. Joey will take care of it,” he replies.
“I can wash my own clothes,” I say.
“Maybe you can, but you won’t,” he says, tapping the tip of my nose.
He reaches for his phone, his fingers flying across the screen. I take the time to watch his profile. He’s such a handsome man. With a few days stubble on his face, it only gives him more sex appeal.
“Okay, all set,” he says, resting back on his side, head in his palm. “What are you up to today, gorgeous?”
“I thought I’d go for a long stroll in the park,” I tease.
He groans. “I know this has to be driving you crazy. Being on this bus can be bad enough. Being here with a bum leg, that must suck,” he says and gives the most adorable pout I’ve ever seen.
The way his eyes sparkle draws me in. I tear my gaze away and busy myself with my phone. He shifts his body until his head rests on my thighs and he’s looking up at me.
“What are you doing?”
He doesn’t reply right away. That look of contemplation is in his eyes again. He reaches for my phone and takes it from my hand.
“Why does it bother you so much that they think we’re together?” he finally says.
“I… I didn’t say it bothers me. I just… I didn’t think you wanted these rumors out and I… I want to keep my professional reputation,” I stammer out.
“So why not just go with it? Why fight against this? You’re the inspiration behind an album that’s highly anticipated. I’m making your job easy,” he says.