Bishop Brothers Series: Four Book Complete Set

Chapter 5-1

Chapter Five

ALEX

The sun feels like it’s burning my skin straight through the window as I roll over in bed. Last night, we stumbled back to our suite, and since we drank and sang karaoke all night, I forgot to close the curtains—hell, I’m lucky I even made it to the bed at that point.

Just as I sit up, my head pounds hard and loud like the beat of the music at the club. Drinking so early after we traveled all day was a bad decision on my part, but Dylan was all for it, as usual. We aren’t letting any part of this vacation go to waste.

I stand and walk to the bathroom only to catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror.

You look like s**t, I think to myself, needing to clear my throat that’s sore from all my loud singing. Favorite song of the night: “All My Exes Live in Texas.” I chuckle because they do.

The world’s spinning, and I place my hand against the wall to steady myself before I face-plant on the floor. I stumble to the mini fridge to grab a bottle of water and realize I don’t see Dylan anywhere in the room. Opening the door that leads to the sitting area, I find him sleeping on the couch with his legs and arms hanging off the side. He’s too tall for that small couch, and it makes me laugh, even though it hurts my head when I do. He’s trying so hard to be comfortable, it’s comical. We might be a hungover shitshow, but we showed Florida how to really party—Texan style.

Last night, after we bought some swim trunks and flip-flops, we changed clothes, grabbed a quick dinner, then went down to the cabana bar by the water where country music was blasting loud and proud. Five shots of tequila and a few beers later, we were dancing and singing, and now today I’m paying for it.

Just as my stomach growls, Dylan rolls over off the couch and lands flat on his ass. He rubs his hand over his face, and I can tell he feels as bad as I do.

“Ugh,” he moans, trying to get up but fails miserably. Walking over to him, I hold out my hand to pull him off the floor. As he stands in front of me, I see bright red lip prints all over his face.

“Last night must’ve been good.” I chuckle, plopping down on the couch and leaning my head back.

Dylan looks at me confused before walking to the bathroom. Once he flicks on the lights, I hear him mutter, “What the hell?” I know he’s referring to the lipstick on his face and neck. “All that and I slept on that damn miniature couch alone!”

My stomach growls again, and I know the only way to fix this hangover is to eat something.

“I’m hungry,” I tell him as I force myself to stand and go to my suitcase. I slip on a T-shirt and a pair of jeans.

“Me too,” Dylan agrees.

Just as I walk toward the door and slip on my flip-flops, Dylan falls in line behind me. He’s still wearing his clothes from yesterday but doesn’t seem to care.

We take the elevator to the ground level, walk through the lobby, and head straight to the room where the continental breakfast is served. The smell of sausage and bacon fills the room, and my mouth instantly waters. Not wasting any time, Dylan and I stack food on our plates like we always do, yet with the selection in front of us, we keep adding as if we haven’t eaten in a week. Pancakes, sausage, bacon, fruit—hell, we got a little of everything.

Before we sit, I notice a pretty blonde at the buffet. As soon as I make eye contact with her, she looks the other way, pretending as if I don’t exist. Dylan and I end up sitting a few tables away from where she and her friends are.

“You should go talk to her. You’re eyeing her more than the eggs on your plate,” Dylan encourages with a smirk.

“Nah,” I say, pouring syrup over my pancakes and cutting into them.

“Dare you,” he whispers with a mouthful of food.

Now there’s one thing a person shouldn’t ever do, and that’s dare a Bishop.

I eye him, knowing there’s no going back on it now.

“Unless you’re chicken,” he teases before he begins clucking at me.

After I finish chewing my food, I try to listen to their conversation because if it sounds important, I’ll have to take a rain check. Dare or not, Mama always taught us boys not to interrupt important discussions. Once I realize her friend is chatting about a celebrity, and everyone at the table looks tuned out of the conversation, I take it as my cue to walk over.

Standing behind her, I catch the slight hint of her strawberry-scented shampoo. Her friend peers up at me and smiles, and I throw out some cheesy pickup line that always works when hitting on girls in trashy bars.

She looks over at Dylan then back at me, and that’s when I see a hint of blush hit her cheeks. I’m talking loud enough so he can hear our conversation, and I quickly look over my shoulder at him. All he does is shake his head and laugh.

Once I’m completely rejected by her, I pretend to be hurt and walk back over to Dylan who’s laughing so loud other people in the dining area are staring at us.

“Damn. She’s a savage. I like her,” he says with a s**t-eating grin. Moments later, I see Miranda or Mazie—whatever her name is—bounce up to our table with a devilish look in her eye. I take full advantage knowing the blonde girl is watching even though she rejected me just moments ago.