Page 12 of Love Me, I Dare You

This woman’s got grit, something I’m told Bailey has learned in the time since I’ve last seen her. My sweet angel owns a bar for fucks sake. She’s got tattoos and an attitude that made me weak in the knees, even though I know better than to get involved. I’m here for a short time, not a long time, and I’m not looking for a good time, though I know that’s what it would be to once again feel Bailey’s skin under my fingers. The curves she’s grown into, the smart mouth and sweet pout she gave me as I watched her walk away from me with an extra sway in her hips.

The girl was dangerous at eighteen, but at twenty-eight, she’s goddamn lethal.

I meet Lexi’s bewildered gaze as she tries to figure out what my next move will be. She won’t figure it out because I don’t have a fucking clue what to do about it. For one, I should listen and head back the way I came, avoiding ever running into Bailey or any of the Kings again. Though‌, I want nothing more than to push the woman to see how much she’s really changed or if she’s still the girl I used to know. That is the more dangerous route, but if there’s one thing I’ve done the past ten years, it’s chase the thrill of danger.

Which is why I choose the latter. “I like you, Lexi, so I’ll make it easy on you and listen.” I shift my gaze away from her and back up to the camera pointed at me. “You tell your boss I’ll be back. She owes me another drink.”

Chapter Five

Nash

Ihalt in my tracks as I reach the front steps of my brother’s house, a beautiful three-bedroom, ranch-style home on forty acres of land complete with light oak wood shutters against white painted shiplap and a dark grey shingled roof. It’s beautiful, nothing either of my brothers or I ever imagined we’d be capable of calling home. But now, I was the only one on the outs.

My three brothers all had successful careers, and they worked extremely hard for the beautiful homes they deserved. Although I’d been successful in deepening my pockets, I didn’t have a place to call home. My home was on the open road, riding my bike out in the wilderness with no place to go, no one to report to. No expectations.

That’s the way I preferred it.

Monty had poured his heart and soul into the home he shared with our little sister Monroe, using his background in architecture and construction to completely remodel the place himself. After Delia left, he took it upon himself to raise Monroe, sacrificing his own happiness and giving her everything she everwanted. He was on his way to being one of the best quarterbacks the NFL had ever seen, but his dream became nothing more than that when he no longer was a son and brother and was forced to become a father figure. He was only eight years older than Monroe, yet he took on the role of father in a heartbeat. Franklin couldn’t stand to look at her given how much she resembled our mother, so the moment Monty had enough money to get his own place, he’d taken Monroe with him.

I think it’s one reason the town never turned on him. He was their golden boy. Being the best at what he did for Crossroads High and helped them win three of their four consecutive championships, Monty was everything he could have hoped for. It was a colossal hit on the town when he pulled out of the draft in order to care for our sister, but they seemed to admire him more for the sacrifices he’d made.

Now, Monroe and he shared the beautiful house that doubled as her art studio. My little sister had an incredible gift. She was an interior designer. More than that, the way she effortlessly styled the homes Monty built was incredible. It had been eight years since I’d seen her. For two years she tried daily to contact me, but after no success, she gave up. That had turned into a text every few months to prove I was alive or to wish her a happy birthday. I’d only ever answered her call once, when Beau had freaked everyone out after he hadn’t heard from me in months. I’d only answered to assure her I wasn’t dead, but being around Monroe, even hearing her voice, reminded me too much of Bailey and the life I left behind.

Monroe and Bailey hadn’t been friends before I’d left, though I heard that had changed and they were now inseparable. Being the same age, everything about Monroe brought back memories of being around Bailey. From their mutual friends to similar interests, it was less painful for me to completely ignore her,though I know I’d burned bridges with my sister for good. There’s no way she’d be remotely happy to see me.

As kids, everyone used to tell us we were the most alike. Not only did we resemble one another with our dark hair and deep blue eyes, but our personalities were so similar. We shared a birthday, exactly two years apart, and that said a lot about who we were. It also explained why it was her I’d completely stayed away from. I knew if I spoke to her, if she begged me, I’d come back. I would come back to my little sister because she was one of the few people who truly mattered to me.

Which essentially is why it’s her I’d hurt the most. It’s also why I also knew I’d broken Bailey with my departure.

Because that’s the kind of man I was. I broke the people I loved and cared for. I destroyed those who mattered most. Even as a kid, I broke my favorite toys simply from how much I used them.

Bailey King was a perfect example of how I destroyed one of my favorite things.

“Are you just going to stand out there, or are you coming in?” my brother Monty asks, as he opens the front door and steps out onto his porch.

It’s nearly midnight, the sky swallowing us in a blanket of darkness except for the sliver of moon that illuminates my brother’s features. Monty looks exactly the same as he had a decade ago. His dark brown hair is long and wavy, sitting just under his chin and slightly curling at the ends, while his beard is short yet full. Emerald green eyes meticulously watch me, yet there’s a sharp line forming between them as he scowls at me that wasn't there before and is the only tell of his thirty-six years.

“It’s good to see you too, Monty,” I tell him, though I don’t make a move to join him. Instead, I stand frozen in place, looking behind him for her. “Is she?”

“She’s asleep. Would have told you to come tomorrow if I didn’t think you’d end up chickening out and leaving again. But she’s a light sleeper so, if you’re planning to still be a dick and avoid her, then we better get started.”

I follow him into the house and admire the build even more though the house is completely dark. There's a dim light on in the kitchen, which is where Monty leads me. He opens the refrigerator carefully, trying not to make a sound, and grabs two beers, handing me one as he twists open his own.

“Have to say, I didn’t think you’d actually come.”

Twisting open the beer in my hand, I take a long swig before looking back at him. The last ten years have been hard on my oldest brother, but he’s kept himself together. He looks good, but there’s something missing—an emptiness in his gaze as he watches me, not giving away any sort of hint as to what he's feeling. Though, I think that’s just the Bishop way. It’s in our genetics.

“Then why’d you call?” I ask, not in the mood for small talk or any inconsequential conversation about the past.

“Because I needed to. Trust me, you were the last person I wanted to bother with my troubles, but I had no other choice.”

I finish the rest of the beer in another gulp, and set it down on the kitchen island. The kitchen is large and well decorated, clearly has a woman’s touch. Sleek sage green cabinetry with a tan and ivory marbled countertop and matching island, and state-of-the-art appliances nestled on the counters. There’s no way Monty had any input in the design of this space.

“Geez, thanks for the warm welcome,” I joke, but he doesn’t find it remotely funny.

“Thanks for shutting me out for the last decade, Nash.”

The bite in his tone makes me nearly cower in shame, but I don’t owe him or anyone else an explanation or apology for choosing to follow my fate. “Don’t take it personal, Monty. I shuteveryone out. You're not special.” I give him a wink I know only pisses him off more. This is probably not the best way to try to repair whatever relationship with my brother I have left, but I never said I was good at it.

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