Page 16 of Royal Baby Maker

- Chapter Eight -

Nellie

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Bishop was avoidingme.

There was no mistaking it; I'd catch glimpses of him before or after walking the dogs, but that was all. He was acting like he hadn't offered to let me be his baby-making-dog-walker. I was oddly irritated by that. So irritated, in fact, that I was starting to WANT to talk to him.

By the time I'd worked up the determination to confront him, he was nowhere to be found. His presence was absent in the house that morning, and he remained a ghost when I returned with the two exhausted dogs.

Washing my hands in the kitchen sink, I perked up at the sound of footsteps. The sight of Bishop's mother and not the man himself deflated me. She was holding a gold paper bag in one hand, looped as if it was an expensive Gucci purse. “You're back,” she said. “Good. How were they?”

“Fine. I'm worried about the heat, though. I might have to take them out even earlier until it cools down.” I wiped my palms on my jeans; she squinted, like I'd offended her.Should've used a towel like a properly fancy person.“Hey,” I began, before I could stop myself, “Is Bishop distracted lately?”

She adjusted her thin shawl while scrutinizing me. “My son has a large amount of responsibilities to attend to. It’s a wonder I can get him to do half of what he should, especially when he keeps adding in new obstacles. Did you know it was HIS idea that we get those dogs?”

Blinking, I looked down at the fluffy puppers. “I didn’t, no.” He did say he'd named them, though, so maybe it shouldn't be so surprising.

“He was supposed to take them on his morning jogs, but I guess he's never been the type to keep his promises.” Flinching at the rush of coolness that attacked my heart, I started for the door. “Wait. Nell, do me a favor.” She offered me the paper bag; inside was a wooden box wrapped in a silver ribbon. “It's a gift for the diplomat Bishop is entertaining. They’re having lunch at the Elephant Room.”

Clutching the thin, rough handles, I swallowed. “You want me to bring this to him—er, to them?”

“It should be on your way home. I hate to ask, but I've got my own things to get to.”

I couldn't say no. Or that's what I told myself, because deep down, I knew I was using this as an excuse to corner Bishop. “I'll do it, sure.”

“You're a life saver.” Her thin lips slipped into a smile that was almost appreciative. It was the face of someone who was happy they were getting their way. But that was fine, because I knew how she felt.

I was getting my way, too.

****

The Elephant room wasgold and silver, like someone had melted a giant Christmas ornament all over the walls. Every person that wasn't sitting at a table was rushing around in a pale gray suit or skirt, trays balanced on their palms; thick, black folders stuffed with thicker credit cards under their arms.

I dodged the servers, winding my way through the tables and trying not to gawk at the ceiling. Gold-dusted tusks—that I sure hoped were fake—jutted down to create a breathtaking sculpture of an elephant's head.

This place was expensive.

This place wasn't meant for me.

“Nell!” It was Bishop who called my name, waving at me from a long, dark table set against the back wall. The men sitting with him looked as expensive as the Lamborghinis outside. I wondered why they didn't have a private room, until I understood that being seen was the whole point.

Approaching with the paper bag at my side, I wished I'd changed into something nicer. Jeans and a washed-too-many-times blue racerback stood out among all this glamour. But the way Bishop's eyes hung on me, as if I were more stunning than the architecture above, said otherwise. He appreciated what he saw. So did I.

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