Yes, he was far too bossy for her tastes. She would simply have to survive the afternoon. She would take him to see the cabin and then head into town to talk to Teeny about where she might be able to pawn her computer. And her necklace. It was a silly thing, a little silver snowflake with the words “You’re One of a Kind” engraved on it. It had been a gift from a friend. She always touched the necklace when she felt down, a way of reminding herself of the words. Now she would have to pawn it. She sniffled as she walked to where she’d hung up her coat.
Henry stood talking to her mom. He’d leaned in, whispering something to her. Her mother stopped, her pretty face settling in a confused mask.
“Will you really?” she asked.
Henry’s face was the same polite blank it had been the whole time. She wondered what it would take for the man to smile. “I promise I will.”
A bright, sunny smile replaced her mother’s previous gloom. “Excellent. I like you, Henry. Take care of my girl. She’s very important to the world, you know.”
Nell blushed. “Mom, please.”
“I can see that,” Henry said. He grabbed his own coat and held the door open for her. “Shall we?”
It was too bad he was so bossy and obviously believed in a patriarchal society worldview because he really was quite handsome. She walked out the door wondering what he would look like if he would just smile.
Chapter Two
“What did you say to my mom?”
He didn’t look back, merely expected Nell to follow. It was time to start her training, and part of that training was to follow him when he decided to lead. During most of the brief time of their relationship, Bishop would be perfectly fine with trailing after her and allowing her to make most of the unimportant decisions. She could choose where they ate and what they did for fun. He couldn’t care less about what movies they might see. All of those daily things would be left to her.
But when it counted, when the chips were down and things got dangerous, he would be in charge.
“I told her I would take care of you.” What he’d told her had actually been more about taking care of anyone who thought they could hurt Nell while he was on watch. He’d actually said something more like he would rip the testicles off the fucker and ram them down his throat if he thought to touch her. Moira Finn had seemed suitably impressed.
Somehow he didn’t think Nell would be. He rather thought she would give him a lecture on proper masculine modern behavior and how it didn’t involve deballing his foes. It was brutally obvious that Nell was one of those bleeding-heart liberals who would let the whole world go to hell because she didn’t want to get her hands dirty. He couldn’t stand the type.
And he still wanted her. His cock had been hard as a damn rock since she’d walked in and looked up at him with those doe eyes. All he’d been able to think about since that minute was getting her under him. The women in his world were typically cold and just as ruthless as he was.
Nell Finn was soft and seemingly innocent. Oh, he was pretty sure she wasn’t a virgin. No one was that innocent, but her lack of a hymen didn’t mean she was worldly.
“Well, I don’t actually require taking care of, but thank you,” she said primly as they walked out into the snow. It had blanketed the mountain in white. Nell pulled her knit cap down, covering her ears.
“Tell me something, sweetheart,” Bishop started as he moved toward his SUV, a rental that had luckily come with full snow tires. “Which bitch was he referring to? You or your mother?”
It took him a moment to realize she wasn’t following him now. He turned, the snow covering his boots. He’d been working in South America for too long. The cold was foreign, alien. He was used to almost junglelike heat.
Nell didn’t seem to mind. She stood in her galoshes, that lovely body swallowed up by her parka. The cap on her head practically devoured her as well, covering most of her hair and ending in two knit balls hanging to her shoulders. It wasn’t sexy. It wasn’t attractive. So why did his heart do a weird shaky thing? She was adorable.
He didn’t do adorable.
“That was rude, Henry. I’m not a bitch, and it’s mean of you to say it.” Her words were quiet, not a real hint of anger in them, but he could feel her hurt.
Damn it. He didn’t need this. He needed to completely rethink his position. She was one of those heart-on-her-sleeve, fall-in-love kind of girls, and all he was looking for was a nice long fuck. So he should back off. He would solve her problem and then she could go her way and he would go his. Surely there were women in this town who just wanted an orgasm.
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t actually calling you a bitch. I was making a bad joke about what was written on your wall.”
She stared for a moment as though trying to decide if he was being truthful. “Okay. I’m being touchy. I didn’t like you calling me that.”
She started to walk again, crossing the distance between them. Fuck, she was pretty.
“You shouldn’t like anyone calling you that.”
She shrugged a little. “You get used to it.”
“You get used to it? Who the hell routinely calls you vulgar names?” The thought really pissed him off. He’d been told this was a nice town, not a town where young women were verbally assaulted.
“Oh, lots of people. Mostly at the places where I protest.”
“Protest?”
“Yes. I like to protest. In the last week, I’ve organized or attended five different protests, though one probably shouldn’t count because it was really spontaneous. Max Harper killed a wolf. I protested him. Vigorously.”
Bishop had to work to keep up with her. “Why did he kill a wolf? Is he a hunter?”
She shook her head. “No. Although I’ve heard he hunts, too. He’s a rancher, and apparently this poor wolf was very hungry.”
Bishop stopped, his hands going to his hips. “Nell, he has the right to protect his property.”
Nell turned back to him, a standoff. “And I have the right to protect the earth. He didn’t even try to save the wolf. And he wasn’t apologetic. He was all tough guy ‘I killed one of nature’s blessings and that makes me a man.’ He used a telescopic rifle. The wolf didn’t have a chance. If he wants to prove his big bad manhood, he should take the wolf on without weaponry. Then maybe I will be impressed, though likely not, since I don’t think wolves should have been taken off the endangered species list. I protested that, too.”
Wow. She could talk a mile a minute. “I think if the wolves want to survive, they should evolve and start creating weapons of their own.”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, you just wait, Mister. When all the predators are gone, fluffy adorable bunnies will overrun the earth. When they eat every vegetable known to man, you’re going to be hungry.”
She strode past him. Yeah, he didn’t need to get involved with a crazy idealist even for a few brief days. She would make his little vacation into a hell of lectures and dumb ideas about kindness saving humanity. Bishop knew there wasn’t any humanity in most humans. Sheltered Nell thought she could save the world? Well, he’d done a hell of a lot more than she had to protect her ability to protest.
He stared at her as she walked by, wishing he could see the sway of her hips under all that likely cruelty-free fabric. His brain might understand that she was a bad idea, but his dick wasn’t as evolved as his brain.
His dick just wanted her.
She walked right up to the big-ass SUV he’d rented, and she stood by the passenger door, obviously waiting.
“How did you know that was my car?” There were at least fifteen cars in the small parking lot.
She patted the hood. “Oh, this is absolutely the vilest, most gas-guzzling, earth-killing car out here. It was a good bet it was yours.”
That ass was begging for a spanking. He could picture her right over his knee, that round ass in the air, muscles clenching because she was so damn nervous. He would wait, hold off because the anticipation of pain was a part of the p
rocess. And then he would give it to her. Hard. Fast. Unrelenting. She might cry a little because at first the shock of the sting seemed like real pain, but he knew just how to turn that sting into an ache. He would start fast, but end slow, his palm resting with every sharp slap so the heat would sink into her muscles and make its way to her pussy. Wet. She’d be wet within moments. Her pussy would swell, just praying for some attention, but he would focus on her ass.
God, he wanted to fuck her. He wanted to use his cock on her pussy as much as he wanted to smack her ass and let her know who the boss was. What was wrong with him? He liked sex, craved it at times, especially when he was coming off a bloody op, but it was the sex he craved, not a particular woman.
“Are you okay?” Nell stood staring at him like she was the tiniest bit worried he was going to go crazy.
Of course, she’d likely run if she knew exactly what he was thinking. The question was—would he catch her? He wasn’t sure. He made the safe play and held up his keys. “Found them.”
He opened her door.
“I can open my own door.”
He felt his eyes narrow. “You know, I would like you a lot more if you would stop pushing this modern ideal that simply because a woman can open her door or stand instead of sit, that a man shouldn’t be polite and open it for her or give up his seat. It’s a politeness. It makes me feel good, and you’re ruining it for me.”
She stopped, biting into her bottom lip. “I hadn’t thought of it that way.”
Yeah, that had been good. Oddly enough, it had also been the truth. “Some men enjoy being courteous to the women they meet. Women aren’t softer. They’re just far more beautiful.”
“You think I’m beautiful?” She flushed and covered her mouth. “I can’t believe I said that out loud. You were talking about all women.”
“I was talking about you.” Whether or not he gave in, she should know she was beautiful. “Now get in and let me take a look at this problem of yours.”
She allowed him to open the door and settled into the passenger seat. “Okay, but I should warn you, it’s pretty violent. It might be upsetting. I mean you’re a college professor. I can’t imagine you’ve seen much violence. This is the nasty side of the world.”
He walked around the car shaking his head as he got into the driver’s seat.
When he closed his eyes at night, he saw all of the bad things of the world in his dreams. Lately he’d begun wondering if he wasn’t one of them. He’d stared into the abyss so fucking long, he’d become a part of it, slowly sliding inside until he didn’t remember what he’d been before. He could tell her stories that would shake her faith in humanity. “Oh, I think I’ll find a way to handle it. I’m sure if it frightens me that you’ll take care of me.”
It was a laughable thought. Though not, it seemed, for Nell. She gave him a bright smile and reached over to touch his arm. “I will. I’ve been in the activist world long enough to know how bad it can be out there, but it’s worth it. We have to fight for the world we want.”
He stopped, his hands in the middle of turning the ignition. Fight for the world we want. It was a child’s ideal—that the world could be changed. The world was the same shit hole it had always been, and he was responsible for making sure bleeding-heart idealists like Nell didn’t realize that truth. If she was forced to face reality, all those ideals would crumble and she would be just like the rest of them—selfish, needy, and willing to trample over anyone to save her own neck.
It was his job to make sure she never knew that about herself.
He turned the engine to his earth-killing vehicle over and eased it into reverse, snow crunching under the tires. He had to be careful. The mountains were beautiful, but like everything else in the world, they were deadly as well if not handled with caution.
“So what do you teach, Henry?”
Assassination 101. South American Coups. How to Change Your Identity in Five Easy Steps. “I teach history.”
Nell’s smile lit up the cab. “Wow. That’s exciting. I love history. What type do you teach? British? I love British history. I can’t decide which age I would rather have lived in. The Dark Ages were full of things to protest. I mean it. What a time to be an activist. Except they kind of burned all of them at the stake. The Victorian Age was better, except if you marched for women’s rights, you often got labeled a whore. I guess this really is the best time to be an activist. Everyone still hates us and thinks we’re annoying, but we no longer get lynched or drawn, hanged, and quartered. Wow. History is kind of bloody now that I think about it.”
He turned slightly and gave her a grin of his own. He actually kind of liked the way her brain worked. He was used to careful conversations where every word was a pointed gun, but Nell just rambled on, giving voice to her every thought. “I specialize in the history of war.”
Her smile disappeared. “I bet you eat meat, too. Don’t you?”
“I can be persuaded to try a salad every now and then.” He wasn’t willing to completely scare her off yet. Being this close to her, he could smell the shampoo she’d used on her hair. Nell Finn smelled like sunshine, and he was so used to the gloom. It was a bad idea, and he rarely had bad ideas. She was going to get hurt.
He was still going to have her. Maybe even today.
It was his vacation after all.
“You’ll need to take a left at the stop sign when you’re down the mountain. Our cabin is near the river. We’re a little isolated.”
Everything was isolated in Bliss, though the valley he’d passed seemed to have plenty of cabins. “Are you sure it’s a good idea to be so far from other people?”
She shrugged. “I like the peace and quiet. It’s nice after the city and all those hospitals.”
“Why were you in the hospital?”
“I wasn’t. Mom was. She has leukemia. We met Pam Sheppard in Denver where she was being treated, and she convinced us to give Bliss a try. I think my mom was hoping she could find a family for me.”
She was getting emotional, her nose flushing. She wouldn’t be able to tell a lie to save her life. “Your mom is your only family?”
She turned slightly, a grin forming. “Unless you count the vampires on another plane of existence. Sorry. I can joke about it now. My mom has certain quirks in her personality, but she’s perfectly harmless.”
Her mom was certifiable. “Is she schizophrenic?”
“No.” Nell huffed. “Delusional, perhaps, but she doesn’t hear voices, and she’s never been violent. She’s a loving mother and a very kind friend. I blame her artistic temperament, but CPS in Atlanta didn’t see it that way.”
He made the left turn and the land became flat, moving toward the valley. “You went into foster care.”
He didn’t like that idea. She was too soft to handle it. A woman like Nell would need someone strong to protect her. Foster parents were a crapshoot. He’d had a couple who cared, but several who had just seen him as a paycheck. A vision of a young Nell being forced into that life assaulted him.
“Not for too long. My mom complied with everything they asked her to. She immediately went into counseling and started saying all the right things. I remember when she was finally able to pick me up. She smiled and was so calm until we were two blocks away and then she broke down. She hugged me and begged me to forgive her. I was eight. She didn’t talk about her family again around anyone until we got here. It’s funny. In some ways I feel like I got my mother back when we came here. She and this guy named Mel argue all the time about who’s worse. Evil faeries versus aliens. They tried to call a town hall meeting and take a vote to see which one would win, but the mayor is too afraid that he’d then be forced to enact a safety plan, and that could get expensive.”
The town sounded a little off, too, but that didn’t bother Bishop. He would likely find the place wildly entertaining—like reading a comedic book or watching a movie. He would sit back and let them entertain him.
And he would let Nell entertain
him, too.
She chattered on as though silence was something to be ruthlessly beaten back. Bishop preferred silence, but he found her voice rather pleasant, soothing even as she talked about how she’d left her place in Denver to come to this remote small town and how she was trying to be a writer.
He didn’t have to talk. It was refreshing in a way. He could sit back, and she would take care of that part. Every now and then she would ask him a question about himself and he would sidestep it, turning the conversation back to her.
All he had to do to keep her talking was point out some terrible thing that was happening in the world. Nell had a plan. She had letters to write to dictators and corporations to protest.
She was an idealist of the highest order.
Would she protest him if he didn’t give her a proper orgasm? He wasn’t particularly worried. He intended to make sure she was perfectly satisfied right down to her Birkenstocks.
“That’s the cabin.” She pointed through the windshield to a small cabin by the river. It was a real, actual log cabin with a small front porch and a neatly kept yard. He pulled into the gravel drive. She was right. It was very isolated. The road wasn’t even paved.
“Where does the road go?” There was a dirt road that led away from her cabin toward another mountain.
“It leads up to Elk Creek Pass. There’s not much up that way. There’s a ski lodge and a bar called Hell on Wheels, but I’ve never been to either one. I know the gentlemen who run the bar. They’re very nice.” She opened her door and slid out.
He needed to train her. It was his job to open her door and hers to wait until he could help her out, his hands sliding over her curves and keeping her balanced. He was a little disgruntled as he followed her, but he held his tongue.
The cabin was old, the chinking in need of work. About the only thing that he’d seen that looked new on the place was the mailbox. It had been painted with gold and green, the name “Finn” done up in pretty flourishes. It was also not where it was supposed to be. Someone had forcibly removed the cheery mailbox, and it had ended up on the porch. He picked it up as Nell pushed the ruined door open.