by Kennedy Fox
Copyright © 2018 Kennedy Fox
www.kennedyfoxbooks.com
TAMING HIM
Bishop Brothers, #1
Cover Photography by Wander Aguiar
Cover Design by RBA Designs
Literary Editor: Mitzi Carroll
Proof reader: Jenny Sims | Editing 4 Indies
All rights reserved. No parts of the book may be used or reproduced in any matter without written permission from the author, except for inclusion of brief quotations in a review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, establishments, organizations, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously to give a sense of authenticity. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to another person except when loaned out per Amazon’s lending program. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then it was pirated illegally. Please purchase a copy of your own and respect the hard work of this author.
Contents
Newsletter
Quote
Dedication
Prologue
Part I
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Part II
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Epilogue
Coming Next
About the Author
Connect with us
Books by Kennedy Fox
Free Book
Acknowledgements
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“It's not a silly little moment
It's not the storm before the calm
This is the deep and dyin' breath of
This love we've been workin' on…”
* * *
-Slow Dancing in a Burning Room, John Mayer
In Memory of Deseret
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You taught me how to shovel shit, saddle and ride wild horses, and how important it was to get back on when I fell off.
This one’s for you.
-F
Prologue
RIVER
TWELVE YEARS AGO…
Rounding the corner into the hospital room, I see Rylie lying in bed and immediately rush to her side. She’s hooked up to machines and oxygen, and though it’s common for her, it still feels like a stab to the gut when I see her like this.
“Riles,” I whisper, holding her hand in mine and squeezing three times. “Can you hear me?”
With a nod, she squeezes my hand back three times. She slowly tilts her head down and tries to open her eyes. The medication makes her sleepy, and she can’t always stay awake even when she tries.
“Love you, baby sis,” I tell her like I always do. She’d normally reply with, “Love you too, big sis,” and we’d both smile.
My father catches up to me and stands on the other side of her bed. “River,” he says in a deep scolding tone. “What’d I say about running?”
“Well, had I known she was in here earlier, I wouldn’t have ran to get up here as soon as I could,” I tell him, returning the tone. My father had just picked me up from school and told me Rylie was back in the hospital.
“I already told you there was no need to take you out of school. She’s just running a fever,” he says so casually as if having a fever while being treated for cancer was no big deal.
Rolling my eyes, I hide my disapproval and focus on Rylie. “What’s the doctor saying?” I read the monitors, too familiar with what the numbers represent.
“He’s running more tests,” my mother answers, walking into the room with a Styrofoam cup of coffee. She’s wearing big sunglasses, most likely to hide the bags under her eyes. Mom stresses more than she sleeps, and Dad works nonstop. It’s Mom, Rylie, and me most of the time, and even though I love my dad, I wish he was around more for our sakes during times like these.
Dad walks toward Mom and gives her a quick peck on the cheek before he starts digging around in his pockets for his keys. “I have to get back to the office; call me when there’s news, okay?”
“You’re leaving?” I glare.
“I left work early today, River. I have to finish some things up.”
“But Rylie’s sick.” I say the obvious, furious that he’d leave us at a time like this.
“I know, sweetie.” He steps toward me and presses a kiss to the top of my head as if I’m a baby, but I’m not. I don’t need his coddling anymore. I’m a freshman in high school who’s watched her nine-year-old sister battle leukemia for the past two years. “I’ll work as fast as I can,” he says before rushing out of the room.
I recognize the disappointment on my mother’s face immediately. It’s always the same thing. Rylie spends more time in the hospital than she does at home, and having him here would give us comfort, but he leaves that role to Mom instead. She always plasters on a fake smile and pretends to be strong for Rylie and me.
The doctor comes in not long after with Rylie’s chart and tells us they’d like to keep her overnight for observation. She more than likely has an infection, which triggered the fever.
“Until we locate the source of infection, we’ll keep her on oxygen and monitor her stats,” he tells us. “The nurse will move her to another floor in a bit.”
“Thanks, Doctor Potter,” my mother murmurs.
The bare hospital walls, the cold air, the cream-colored floors—they’re all I’ve seen the last three years. Rylie got sick over two years ago, and we were in the ER at least once a week until she was officially diagnosed and they started chemo treatment.
“I’m going to call your dad,” she tells me before standing up and leaving. I can see the distress and exhaustion all over her features. Mom quit her job and has been Rylie’s caretaker since the beginning. She and Dad never go out anymore—at least not with each other—and if they aren’t fighting about bills, they’re fighting about his long hours at the office. I’ve overheard some of their conversations and sometimes wonder if Dad wishes he could leave us and find another family. Mom’s accused him of cheating, and though he never denies it, he just tells her she’s crazy.
The tension is thick when things are rough like this. Before Rylie’s diagnosis, they both worked full-time but always made sure to be home in time for dinner so we could eat as a family. We’d talk to Mom about our day, and Dad would ask about homework. It was predictable, but it was nice.
How easy it is to take life for granted until it throws a curve ball and changes the entire course of it.
I hate seeing Rylie like this. She doesn’t deserve this, and I’m often angry that she’s the one having to go through it and not me. I’d take her place in a heartbeat. She was only seven, and though she annoyed me on a daily basis, I loved her so much. Mom used to tell me stories of how I’d beg them for a baby sister, and
when they got pregnant, I was so excited. Growing up together wasn’t always rainbows and sunshine, but I knew I was lucky to have her in my life.
I press the back of my hand to her cheek and feel how cold it is, even with a low-grade fever. These hospitals are always cold, and I hate it. Doing what I always do when Mom isn’t around, I crawl onto the bed next to her. I’m always careful of her lines, but then, at least, I can give her some of my body heat and comfort her.
“Let me know if I’m hurting you, okay, Riles?” Even though my voice is just above a whisper, when she squeezes my hand back again, I know she heard me.
I rest my chin on top of her head and hold her close to me before closing my eyes and sending another prayer up. “Love you, baby sis.”
A nurse comes in an hour later to move her to another floor.
Once she’s settled, Mom tells me Dad is coming to pick me up soon.
“Why can’t I stay here?”
“You need to eat some dinner and finish your homework,” she says with little emotion.
“‘I’m not leaving!” I shout. “I’m staying with Rylie.”
Dad arrives twenty minutes later, ordering me to come home with him for the night.
“I’ll bring you back tomorrow. Let’s go. Now.”
I kiss Rylie’s cheek and squeeze her hand three times. When she squeezes mine back, I smile and promise her I’ll be back as soon as I can. When Rylie is kept overnight, Mom always stays, but Dad never does.
The next morning, I call Mom before school, and she says she doesn’t have any updates yet. I make her promise to call the school if anything changes so I can know right away, and even though she agrees, something in my gut tells me otherwise.
After not hearing any word from Mom all day, Dad picks me up and drives us straight to the hospital. He’s eerily quiet during the ride over. That could mean anything since he’s not much of a talker anyway, but something isn’t settling right in the air.
“What is it, Dad?” I finally ask as he searches for a parking spot in the hospital garage.
“Nothing, River.”
I narrow my eyes at him, wondering why he’s lying. As soon as he parks, I jump out of the car and run the entire way up to Rylie’s room. Doctors and nurses swarm in and out, all holding charts and double checking her monitors.
“Mom, what’s wrong?” I pant, catching my breath.
She’s wearing her sunglasses again, but I know she’s choking up before she even speaks. “She’s septic.” Her words barely leave her mouth before one of the monitor alarms starts going off. It’s her heart monitor. The doctors have talked about sepsis previously during other visits, so I know it’s a life-threatening complication of an infection.
“She’s flatlining!” a nurse calls out, and they all rush around.
I’ve never felt this kind of panic in my life, and I’ve had many reasons to up to this point but watching her heartbeat flatline on the monitor has me gasping for air. I can’t seem to catch my breath between the tears and screaming.
Dad’s arms wrap around me from behind, holding me tight to his body as I scream for Rylie. Hysterically, I watch as they use the defibrillator and shock her chest.
I still remember the way her hair smelled. She was obsessed with everything pink and strawberries, so anytime I smell something fruity, I immediately think of her.
Watching Rylie battle for her life was painful. During her good days, she’d smile up at me, and I swear she was stronger than me through it all. She always made sure I was okay, which was crazy because I wouldn’t be okay until she was cured. Even then, I’d always fear the worst anytime she’d get a fever or a cold.
Memories flash through my mind of everything we went through for all those years, and when it was time to choose my career, I knew without a doubt what I wanted to study. Hell, I’d been experiencing it for years. The rest was just textbook stuff that I knew I could learn, but being at someone’s side while they were in their most delicate state was something I knew I could and wanted to do.
I went to nursing school, more determined than ever to soak up any and all information. Mom and Dad fought and grew apart and eventually divorced. Our family was broken, but I wouldn’t let it take me down. Even when I failed to stay strong, thoughts of Rylie always kept me focused. What she endured proved she was always the strongest of us all.
Part I
Chapter One
ALEX
I watch the early morning fog roll over the hills as I walk across the pasture toward the barn. There’s something about waking up before the roosters crow or the sun rises that gets me going. Maybe it’s because ranch life is ingrained in me, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.
“What the hell?” Dylan shouts, carrying grain in buckets for the horses. I glance down at his boots and can’t help but laugh as he stands smack dab in the middle of a steaming pile of fresh shit. He groans as he slides his boot across the wet, dew-soaked grass, but there’s not much hope for his boot.
Dylan’s mom and mine have been best friends since they were both kids, so we met when we were in diapers and have been inseparable ever since. Every summer since high school, he’s worked for my father until it became a full-time gig. He’s become my partner and sidekick around the ranch, though he’s definitely not the greatest influence. He’s always up for anything regardless of the consequences, which has gotten us into plenty of trouble over the years.
“You should be happy you didn’t trip and fall face first in it,” I tell him, chuckling. “It makes for a pretty shitty day.”
“Sounds like you’ve fallen a time or two.” He snorts, knowing damn well I have. Dylan struggles with smearing the crap off the sides of his boots because his hands are full.
“One time, after tripping and being covered in cow shit, Jackson refused to let me go change. Basically, had to stay like that for the entire day. Eventually, it dried, but I swore I could taste it in my mouth for days.”
“Jackson can be such an asshole,” Dylan says with a laugh.
“It must be a Bishop thing.” I chuckle.
Once we’re inside the barn, we dump the feed into tubs for the horses in each stall, then head down to feed the pigs, chickens, and cows. By the time we finish, the sun is barely peeking over the horizon, and I know we need to get a move on if we’re going to finish our tasks on time. Though feeding the animals happens every day, what we do afterward that changes on a weekly basis and is usually discussed over breakfast with my father every Sunday morning.
Dylan and I make our way to the east side of the land where we’ll be replacing fences along the property line. It’s physically laboring work, but I don’t complain. I enjoy the hard tasks even when it feels like it’s going to kill me. I was born and bred to be a Bishop, and I’ve been helping my parents around the ranch since I could walk. One day it’ll be my and my three brothers' responsibility to manage, but for now, we all have our own tasks to focus on to keep everything running smoothly.
We drive down the old county road along the pasture, and from a distance I can already see a group of workers pulling metal pipes from the back of a lowboy and laying them on the ground. As soon as we park and walk up, I can tell Evan, my oldest brother, is in an agitated mood just by the attitude and stink face he’s wearing. His hair is a blond mess as pieces stick to his forehead and cheeks from the sweat.
Evan spends most of his time working at the hospital, but on his days off, Dad drags him out to help on the ranch. You’re still a Bishop, Dad likes to remind him, so Evan puts in his time when he can. He’s nothing more than a pain in my ass anytime he’s around. He’s years older than me, so we didn’t grow up together and bond like my older brothers did, but I still enjoy giving him hell when he serves it to me.
“Who smells like shit?” Evan asks over his shoulder as he carries post hole digger across the way so we can get started.
Dylan glares at me. “Do you think he can really smell it?”
Bursting out into hearty la
ughter, I shake my head at him and throw him his work gloves. “I have ever since you stepped in it.”
I stand by and watch Evan crank the driver. When he rams it into the ground, Dylan and I begin mixing cement. After each hole is dug, we slam the six-foot pipes in the ground and make sure they’re level before adding cement to set them in place.
“So I got some good news,” Dylan tells me as he fills the hole with the rock mix.
“Yeah? Mallory wants you back?” I like to give him shit about his ex every chance I get because I warned him about her. Several times, in fact.
“Hell no. I wouldn’t take her back again.”
I glare at him in denial and snort. “That’s what you said last time,” I remind him.
“Shut up,” he fires back. “Honestly, after I found out how many times she cheated on me, I wouldn’t even fuck her with your dick,” Dylan states, laughing in disgust.
“Fuck you. My dick takes offense to that. I don’t make village bicycles a habit,” I say matter-of-factly, slamming a pipe into the ground.
