Read Online Fool's Gold: A Kisses and Crimes Novel by Natalie E. Wrye - Free Book Online

appetizing food.
    I walk downstairs in a silky pink robe and panties, letting my nose lead the way. I don’t even think to brush out my unruly hair before making an appearance.
    Groggy, irate from another restless night, I slump my schleppy-looking ass down the stairs, sleepy eyes and all.
    When I hit the bottom step, I feel instantly awake. He is so impossible to miss, and I’ve finally found the wake-up call I need.
    Bishop in low-hanging sweatpants, a thin white tank and, from the looks of it, nothing else.
    He barely glances up as I enter the kitchen, his attention fully focused on some sort of omelet-bread-toast combination that he flips skillfully with his spatula, seasoning with one hand and turning with the other.
    It’s like a spectacle. He is a spectacle… and I can’t take my eyes off of him.
    Bishop with his stone-cold demeanor and fine cooking skills. Bishop with the careful hands and hardened smile.
    Bishop… with no first name…
    So much I’m starting to learn about my “dutiful husband.” And so much I have yet to figure out…
    I stare at the back of his extra wide shoulders, marveling at their beauty, mesmerized by the bold and black tattoo that covers one. 
    I’m beginning to know what secrets are hidden beneath Bishop’s clothes. I wonder about the secrets that lie even deeper.
    As if hearing my thoughts, he looks up at me.
    “Morning, sunshine…” he comments, a hint of a grin on his lips.
    “Oh, I must look like a ray of fucking sunshine.”
    “Even better than that.”
    I can’t hide the sudden smile that finds my face.
    “So, what are we eating?”
    “None of your cooking ever again, that’s for damn sure.”
    “Smartass.”
    “You’re damn right I’m smart. Last night’s ‘meal’ nearly took me out.”
    “Ah, then I’d consider that a success.”
    Bishop gives me a pointed look before turning. He places the omelet-toast on one plate and then the next on another. He hands me the plate just as I cozy up to the stool at the kitchen counter.
    I wait for him.
    But he doesn’t sit beside me.
    Instead he leans over the counter, setting a taut and veiny forearm near his plate. I lick my lips and feel self-conscious that it’s not because of the food.
    I try to distract myself.
    I point with the fork he hands me.
    “ This is different,” I say, motioning towards the omelette.
    “In that it’s edible?”
    I roll my eyes.
    “I mean, I’ve never seen this before.”
    “You have…” he says softly. “It’s just that you don’t remember.”
    Oh, right.
    “It’s no worry,” Bishop says, sensing my discomfort. “It won’t always be like this.”
    I poke feebly at my breakfast. “But when?”
    “When what?”
    “When won’t it be like this?”
    Bishop inhales deeply, standing straighter, planting that damned dangerous forearm on the edge of the counter like a kickstand. He regards me with molten maple eyes.
    “When you heal… Dani,” he answers meaningfully. “When your brain, your body, your thoughts heal. Don’t shut the memories out. Let them come.”
    And when he says that, I have a thought: singular and frightening. So scary I almost don’t want to ask. I think of my insistent nightmares.
    “But what if I don’t want them to come? What if what comes is awful ?”
    Bishop narrows his golden eyes, dropping his fork slowly.
    “Dani, I…”
    A sudden ringing interrupts whatever he is going to say next. Distracted, Bishop reaches into his pants pocket… and produces a phone I’d never seen until now.
    I almost gasp as he answers.
    “Bishop…” he says on the line.
    “Yeah, no… I’m on my way. Be there in twenty.”
    He hangs up.
    I push my plate away.
    “Be where, Bishop?”
    He doesn’t answer. Instead he reaches over, grabbing a shirt from the back of one dining room chair and lifting it overhead. I look on as he pulls it down his body and digs in his pocket once again.
    This time he retrieves another phone. Similar to the first and just as