Page 2 of Branded By Bishop

I've never met Callie, but everyone in town knows who she is. Her music is all over the local radio station. The woman sings like a fucking angel. Looks like one, too. Every damn time I drive past her billboard, my cock starts thinking he's a teenager again. And I start wondering what it'd be like to come home to a woman like her every day. It's those big brown eyes and sweet smile. They just do something to me, make me wish for shit that I told myself a long damn time ago I wouldn't be chasing.

Why is Morgan bringing her up to me?

I pick up the rasp again, carefully positioning it over Stryker's hoof, trying like hell to feign disinterest. It's a lie, though. I'm interested as hell in Callie Jenkins. But I'm not nearly as stupid as I look…and I will not be letting Morgan know that anytime soon. Women like Callie Jenkins aren't meant for men like me. My pops was proof enough of that.

"Remember that favor you owe me?" Morgan blurts two seconds later.

Goddammit. I'd rather help Blaze bury someone than think about that favor. It's been hanging over my head like the Sword of Damocles since she drank Wade and me under the table a few months ago.

Word to the wise, never bet against a woman just because she's five foot nothing. You'll live long enough to regret it.

"Bishop, are you listening to me?"

Hell no.

"Yep."

"So, you'll do it?"

"Uh…"

"Bishop!" she groans. "You weren't listening at all, were you?"

"I was." I absolutely was not. I was busy having flashbacks to the worst hangover of my life. Believe me, whiskey is better going in than it is coming out.

"Oh, really. Then what'd I say?"

"You met Callie Jenkins."

Morgan groans through laughter, running her fingers through Jon's mane. "You're worse than Blaze."

"Exactly. That's why you should ask Wade to do whatever it is you want me to do. He listens better." Especially if it has to do with Callie Jenkins. I do not need that kind of trouble.

"Wade isn't right for this. You look more bodyguard-ish."

"Bodyguard-ish?"

Jesus Christ.

Now, I really don't want to know what her favor entails.

"Yeah." She beams at me, her expression impish. "You're basically a giant. And you have all those tattoos. You're perfect for the job."

"Wasn't aware I was interviewing, Calamity," I drawl, trying to focus on Stryker. Except…dammit all. Now I'm fucking curious. Why does Callie need a bodyguard? And why is Morgan trying to draft me?

"Well, you are. Keep up."

"I'd prefer not to."

"And I'd prefer for my new friend not to be taken advantage of again."

I run the rasp over Stryker's hoof once. And then again.

Son of a bitch.

"Taken advantage of how?"

"She has a show coming up in Houston, and a big record exec is coming. But she just fired her manager for theft. I don't trust him, Bishop. What if he does something to mess up her chances?" Morgan turns her big blue eyes on me. "I need you to pretend to be her new bodyguard until after the show. Be scary and intimidating and do bodyguard stuff." She waves her hand as if to tell me to use my imagination.