Page 110 of That: Taylor & Brooks

Then his eyes found Taylor, and everything else seemed to fade away.

“And finally, I want to thank the woman who reminded me what I’m building for. Who shows me every day what it means to lead with integrity, to love without conditions, to stand in your truth even when the world tells you to shrink. Taylor, you are my heart and my future.”

The raw honesty in his voice sent a ripple through the crowd. This wasn’t the typical thank-you speech they’d heard all night. This was a man laying bare what truly mattered to him.

“I accept this award on behalf of everyone who believed in Bishop Towing, everyone who trusted us to show up when called. We’re just getting started.”

He held up the award, a simple but elegant crystal sculpture that caught the light.

“Thank you for this honor. I promise to make good on the trust it represents. Be easy.”

The applause was immediate and thunderous, people rising to their feet as Brooks descended from the stage. But he didn’t seem to notice the standing ovation. His eyes were fixed on Taylor, moving toward her. She was his magnetic north, and he had no choice but to follow.

When he reached her, his arm slid around her waist, pulling her close as if they were the only two people in the room.

“That was beautiful,” she whispered, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “If you wanted some pussy that’s all you had to say.”

Brooks nearly choked, his eyes widening before his face broke into a grin that was all heat. “Taylor, when you talk that I don’t know it does something to me. Be cool and hold that for me. Because I got a surprise for you tonight.”

“Oh Lord,” she said, laughing.

“Brooks, how will I get to repay you for all you do for me if you keep doing stuff?” It was a real question. She’d been the giver all her life.

“Keep looking at me like you do. Take care of meand my seed.” His voice dropped, just for her ears. “I don’t need much else.”

“Surely that’s not going to be enough.”

“Why ain’t it? I got money. I’m obviously famous.” He smirked, the confidence shining on his face. “I’m good on the shit other people thinks matter. I just need you. I needed a twin flame, and I got that. Don’t put a lot of pressure on yourself. Give me that old school love. Laughs in the kitchen, dancing in the living room, church on Sundays, dinner in the crockpot.”

“That sounds perfect,” she whispered, smitten. He leaned over and placed a soft kiss on her lips, then another one. Her hand slid up to the side of his face and brought him in for another one.

“Get y’all a damn room or something,” Blake joked, pulling them from the love haze they found themselves in.

As the night continued, Emon won his award for Community Leader of the Year. The evening had been one of wins and love. Until one of Premier Towing’s’ mouthpieces approached the table like they had an issue.

“Congrats, Bishop. Don’t get too comfortable. That city contract has a shelf life.”

Brooks and Emon stood, hands clasped in front of them. Calm, but the kind of calm that lets you know chaos was in the trunk. Brooks wasn’t even bothered by the man’s presence. He’d done what needed to be done. His lawyer had ensured the city officials knew he could either play fair or get shit cracking. And they’d decided having Brooks as an enemy wasn’t worth it.

“You looking for a problem?” Emon asked, in a hushed tone.

Brooks didn’t raise his voice. Didn’t even frown. Just adjusted the cuff of his jacket, slow and smooth.

“This ain’t the place,” Brooks said simply. “But if you really want smoke, we can step outside. Is that what you looking for?” Brooks asked, eyes never leaving the man before him. “It’s important that you really think about who you fuckin wit before you answer. Don’t let the tux fool you, I’ll have your dick in the dirt before morning’s rise.”

The Premier rep backed up just slightly. Someone hadn’t given him the whole picture on Brooks Dontrel Bishop, but he had it now.

“Sounds like our friend ain’t tryna make it home tonight,” Emon added.

“We good,” the man mumbled, retreating.

Brooks and Emon turned to each other with a slight laugh and replied in unison, “Thought so.”

Taylor and Blake exhaled in unison, relief easing the tension from their shoulders. Both women understood exactly who they were with—men who wouldn’t tolerate disrespect.

Brooks returned swiftly to Taylor’s side. “You good?”

“Perfect,” she said softly, gazing up at him with pride. “You handled that like you handle everything—with class and just enough pressure to remind them exactly who they're playing with. I love that about you.” And she meant every word. She used to assume men like Brooks and Emon moved with aggression but no purpose, danger without direction. Tonight reaffirmed the truth: Brooks was a man who stood his ground. Not reckless or hungry for trouble, but unflinching when it found him. He protected what was his—always.

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