I drew in a breath as I carefully weighed my next words. This was exactly what I had been hoping for—a chance to be with the full Raiders MC again to see what I could overhear. While I wanted to give a hurried response, I had to temper myself. I knew I couldn’t look overeager, which in turn could make me look suspicious.

Misreading my hesitation, Bishop said, “Fuck, I’m sorry. That was a real stupid thing of me to do.”

“Excuse me?”

“After what happened to Marley, I guess the last thing you want is to be around a group of bikers.”

Once again, I found myself speechless, but this time it was over Bishop’s thoughtfulness. Then I felt like a complete bitch by using it to my advantage. “I would be lying if I said your offer didn’t surprise me . . . and unnerve me a little. But at the same time, I think it might be good for me to be around the club again.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, you say you guys are going legit, so I guess I can’t help giving you a second chance, right?”

Bishop grunted. “Yeah, just remember you don’t know shit about any of that. Got it?”

“I promise.”

“So can I pick you up at seven?”

Just as I was about to agree, an image of my house flashed before my eyes. I quickly clamped my mouth shut. There was no way in hell I could let Bishop see where I was living. None of it matched the Samantha Vargas he knew. “Why don’t I meet you there?”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, since I flaked out a few days after Marley’s death, I’ve been working late to make up the time and get the boss off my ass,” I replied. My mind felt as if it were treading water in the deep end to keep up with all the lies I was spewing.

“Oh, okay, then yeah, just come here.” Bishop cleared his throat. “Guess if I picked you up, it would seem like a date, huh?”

Shaking my head, I stared down at my shoes. I realized I didn’t have to worry about Bishop suspecting anything about me and the club. Instead, his worry came in the form of concern that we were overstepping some sacred bounds because of Gavin. He would have given any FBI profiler a run for the money with his being so honorable and considerate. The fact that he had a conscience wasn’t something I had ever bet on, and in turn, it made things even more difficult. I needed him to be a Neanderthal who didn’t give a shit about what Marley would have felt about him making a move on me.

“I guess it could be seen that way,” I said.

“I, uh, well, I just didn’t want you to think I was some bastard for hitting on you so soon after Marley died.”

I knew I had to choose my next words carefully—I could either drive him away or reel him in. “Regardless of what’s in your head, any woman would be flattered to be asked on a date by you.”

“Is that right?” he questioned.

“Yeah, it is.”

Bishop coughed. “That’s good to know.”

“I’m glad I could help,” I said. And it was the truth. I did want Bishop to see he was more than he thought he was.

“So I’ll see you Saturday night, then.”

“See you then.”

ELEVEN

BISHOP

I glanced down at my watch and grimaced. It was half past six, and I had only thirty minutes before Samantha was supposed to arrive for Rev’s party. At the moment, grease stains blackened my hands all the way up to my elbows, not to mention that I was wearing the rattiest pair of jeans I owned. All day, I had fought a fucking nervous energy at the thought of being close to Samantha. I didn’t know where the hell it was coming from. It wasn’t as if she and I hadn’t had dinner a couple of days ago or talked on the phone the night before. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that I had invited her to Rev’s party. I had never invited a woman, even as just a friend, to the clubhouse, least of all to a family party. Although she had been around with Marley¸ she was still an outsider when it came to the club.

I felt like a fucking pussy for being nervous. I had never spent a day of my life worrying about women. Now Samantha had me spinning twenty-four/seven. Part of me was nervous about what my brothers were going to say when they saw me with her. Of course, I didn’t know why I gave two shits about what anyone in the club had to say about my inviting her. It wasn’t any of their damn business. But even though I tried telling myself that, I knew it was still going to be an issue.

Since I had needed an outlet for my restless energy, I thought it would be a good idea to put the finishing touches on the bike Deacon and I were giving Rev for his birthday. But my dumb-ass self didn’t keep a good eye on the time, and the last thing I wanted was for Samantha to see me looking like the grease monkey I was.

Although tonight wasn’t a date, I still wanted to look good. Sam was a real catch—the kind of woman a man went above and beyond to impress. Since we had reconnected after Marley’s death, I felt I had been busting my ass whenever it came to her. Every fucking day I thought about her, and I couldn’t wait to talk to her on the phone. She was the first woman I had really enjoyed spending time with outside the bedroom. She was so easy to talk to, and she seemed generally interested in me as a person, not as a Raider. Most of the women I came in contact with were all about the sex or being an old lady in the club.

Of course, the way I felt about Sam did little to ease the guilt that still resided within me about Marley. No matter how good things seemed between us, it was as if Marley were always a silent specter. I didn’t know how to get past the guilt. It wasn’t something I felt comfortable talking to Samantha about. I was afraid that if she felt the same way, I might scare her off, and that was the last thing I wanted to do. I wanted to be with her, even if it had to be just as friends.