Page 15

"She's having a ball," my sister answers for me, nudging me with her elbow again. "She loves getting sweaty."

I don't know why God gave me a sister when I asked for a dog. Really, I don't. Dogs can't talk.

Bishop's lips curl into that crooked smile that makes my heart turn a flip. "Yeah? I bet she looks beautiful doing it."

It's so fucking quiet, you could hear a pin drop. Right up until my sister cackles, clapping her hands together like that's the best damn thing she's ever heard.

As soon as she does, Bishop seems to realize what he said and how it sounds. He actually blushes again. "Fuck. That didn't come out how I meant it," he rumbles.

"Oh, it definitely did," my sister says through laughter, thrusting her hand out. "I'm Morgan, Callie's sister."

"Hey." Bishop shakes her hand. "Bishop. Callie's bodyguard."

"He can guard my body," Grady mutters, a little too loudly.

Bishop chuckles, glancing at Grady, who just smirks at him, completely shameless.

"Bishop, this is Grady, Ryan, Mandy, Olivia, Tatum, Roark, and Jessa," I say, quickly pointing to each of my dancers, who wave in return. "They're my dancers for Houston. My sister is our choreographer."

Bishop greets everyone politely before glancing at my sister again, curiosity in his gaze. "You're a choreographer?"

"Yep," she confirms. "Been dancing since I was three."

"My mom was a dancer."

"Really?" Her eyes widen with surprise.

I think maybe mine do, too. He never mentioned this to me. Is that why he's so militant about my safety? Because he knows what it's like to have a mom living her life on stage?

"Yeah," he says quietly. "Ballet. Danced all over the world."

"What's her name?"

"Maura Hardy."

"Holy shit!" Morgan says, loud enough to draw everyone's attention. "Your mom is Maura Freaking Hardy?"

Bishop nods uneasily, his expression tight.

My sister glances at me, wide-eyed. "His mom was one of the first world-renowned ballerinas out of Texas. She danced in London, Italy, Russia, Budapest…basically everywhere. There's a statue outside the Winspear in Dallas of her and Tomas Moreau as Giselle and Count Albrecht."

"I didn't know that," I say, looking at Bishop.

"Didn't think it was worth mentioning," he mutters.

"Are you kidding me?" my sister cries. "How is that not worth mentioning? She was a badass!"

Bishop flinches ever so slightly, and I realize this isn't a conversation he really wants to have. I'm not sure why, but I don't think he's as starstruck by his mom as my sister clearly is. There's something almost… sad… in his gaze, as if this is the last thing he wants to talk about right now.

"Why don't you finish showing everyone the new choreography?" I murmur to Morgan. "I need to talk to Bishop for a minute."

"But…" She glances at me, then at Bishop, and then blinks as if finally catching up to the situation. Like every eighteen-year-old, she's sometimes oblivious, but not stupid and never cruel. Her expression falls a little, guilt turning her lips down at the corners. "Of course," she murmurs softly. "We still have a lot to finish anyway. You two go…talk."

The way she says it makes it clear she does not believe that's what we'll be doing. Maybe I shouldn't have told her that he kissed me yesterday. She's never going to let me live it down now. But I had to tell someone, and since I'm no longer speaking to Cody, she was my only other option. Trust is in short supply these days.

I hesitate for a split second and then motion for Bishop to follow me. Neither of us says anything as we cut across the studio and then out the front door, acutely aware of everyone watching us. They don't make a secret of it, staring blatantly until the door closes behind us.

I keep walking until we're deep enough into the parking lot to provide the illusion of privacy. But I'm pretty sure if I look over my shoulder, I'll find my sister and my dancers with their faces pressed to the glass window, watching us like we're putting on a show.