“Bishop, your coffee’s ready,” the barista called.

Before I turned back to collect it, I stared down at Eden. “Bring your shit over to Voodoo when you’re done here. Remember what happened the last time you dragged a suitcase all over town?”

She bit her lip but didn’t reply.

I stalked to the counter and grabbed my coffee.

I DRANK MY ENTIRE BOTTLE of water and all of my coffee as I considered Bishop’s order to bring myself and my stuff to Voodoo. I didn’t want to keep relying on him for help because it highlighted how unable to help myself I was.

What would happen when his friend called about the hotel? I didn’t have answers that would satisfy him. But maybe I could give him cash and ask him to pay the hotel?

And how would I do that without explaining why I ran? Yeah. No.

Why am I such a failure at this? One day I think I’ve got it all handled, and the next it falls apart. Maybe that meant tomorrow would be better. I had to keep pushing forward. There was no other option.

Ten minutes later, I’d gathered my courage. With my suitcase in tow, I stepped through the door of Voodoo Ink for the third time in less than a week. For a girl with no tattoos, that had to be unusual.

I hoped to see Delilah inside, but there was no sign of her. Instead, I saw Bishop standing behind the counter with a redhead leaning over it.

“Come on, you know you wanna.”

I assumed her tone was supposed to sound sultry, but instead it came out whiny and obnoxious. From Bishop’s crossed arms, rigid posture, and definite scowl, it appeared that he really didn’t wanna whatever it was she was offering.

His gaze, rife with annoyance, flicked up to mine as I rolled my carry-on inside. I didn’t know what possessed me to do it, but I dropped my bag and ran across the shop before slipping around the counter and throwing myself at him. It was pure instinct, but it was my turn to rescue him.

Bishop dropped his arms quickly enough to catch me as I wrapped my legs around his waist.

“Baby, I missed you so much!” I buried both hands in his hair and crushed my lips to his.

His muscles tensed beneath my hold, and then he did something completely unexpected—he lowered one hand to my ass and slid the other up to the back of my head to tilt it a little to the side. I opened my mouth, intending to pull away, but his tongue slid inside and he kissed me like . . . like I was exactly who I was pretending to be. A girlfriend away for too long and desperate to get her hands on her man.

“Should’ve figured.” The redhead’s voice was a distant murmur, barely audible over the buzzing in my ears.

Bishop was kissing me. Holding me. Pulling me closer until I could feel a ridge beneath his jeans pressing against my center.

Holy. Hell.

I lost track of everything but the kiss.

The door chimed, but it was another long moment before Bishop pulled his lips away and lowered me to my feet.

I blinked twice, my hand going to my mouth as it registered what the hell I’d just done.

Mauled him.

In front of a customer.

What in the world possessed me?

Bishop ran a hand through his now disheveled hair and stared at me like he’d never seen me before in his life.

I scrambled for something to say. Anything to dispel this awkwardness. “You looked like you could use rescuing . . .”

His brows rose at my mumbled excuse.

More words tumbled out.

“So . . . I guess that makes us closer to even in the rescue department.”

I waited for a response. Any response at all. But I got nothing. Bishop turned and walked away, down a back hallway until he shoved open a door and slammed it behind him.

Well, crap.

Nice going, E. Really. Nice.

WHAT IN THE EVER-LOVING FUCK?

I dropped onto the couch in the break room and stared at my hands.

Hands that had been wrapped around Eden’s curvy ass.

Fuck. Just like that kiss the night I carried her out of the bar, it shouldn’t have happened. I should have held her off and set her right back on her feet as soon as she launched herself at me, but I didn’t think. I just . . . fucking reacted. The sweet taste of her hadn’t changed, and my cock was just as rock hard as it had been that night.

I wanted more.

Shit.

I knew better than to get mixed up with her, but fuck if it wasn’t sounding like the best idea I’d had in a long damn time.

You looked like you could use rescuing . . .

When was the last time anyone had ever given enough of a fuck to want to rescue me? I hadn’t let anyone get that close. That’s what moving around every couple of years did for you. Kept you light. No roots. No cares. No one to pry into your past and try to dig out your darkest secrets. Nothing to lose. And that was the way I’d always liked it.

So why was I letting myself get sucked in?

I had absolutely no fucking clue.

The door to the employee break room opened and smacked against the wall. I jerked my head around to see if it was Eden, shocked that she might follow me in here.

But it wasn’t. It was Con.

“I know I was drunk, but that’s the girl from the Mardi Gras party, right? She here for some ink?”

“Yeah, that’s her, but negative on the ink. She look like the type to you?”

He tilted his head at me. “That don’t mean shit. You’ve seen Van. Wouldn’t think she’d be the type either, but you’d be wrong.”

“True.”

“So, what’s she doing here if she’s not here for ink? Waiting for you?”

I jammed a hand into my hair. There was no way in hell I was going to explain what had just happened. Fuck, I didn’t even know myself.

“I don’t know yet. I’m working it out.”

“And?”

“And nothing.”

Con’s eyebrow rose. “You really expect me to believe that you’re not sitting back here avoiding her because you’re fucking terrified of getting sucked into the classy-broad trap? Been there. Done that. Never want out.”

From outside the break room, I could hear a female voice.

“Van out there talking to her?” I asked.

Con nodded. “Yeah, and they’re probably best friends by now. If you were trying to get rid of her, you’re probably screwed.”

I dropped my head back until it smacked against the wall. “She’s running from something, and I don’t have a fucking clue what to do with her. I can’t leave her to fend for herself because the next place I’d see her would probably be on the six o’clock news.”