Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 115525 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115525 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
“No damn way!” Trent laughed loudly. “Wood, you won’t believe this shit! My dad’s fixing the bathroom.”
“I’m your landlord. It’s my responsibility,” he retorted, because the real reason he was there had nothing to do with Rayne’s grievance this morning.
“I asked you to fix it six months ago, and you told me—” Trent snapped his fingers a couple of times. “I think your exact words were ‘watch a YouTube video and fix it your damn self.’”
Mike was glad he was already bent under the sink and Trent couldn’t see his crooked grin. Yeah, he’d said that, and he’d meant it.
It took him two trips to Home Depot and four YouTube videos, but three hours later, Trent and Wood had a working bathroom. Therefore, Rayne no longer had to share one with the two overzealous lovers.
“Dang. It’s about time,” Trent complained as he leapt up off the couch from where his head had been resting in Wood’s lap while he watched some loud action movie and Wood sketched in a notepad. “I’m exhausted, and I have to get up early.”
“Then go to bed,” Mike deadpanned.
“Night, Dad.” Trent shoved Mike playfully after mumbling a quick thanks for fixing the bathroom.
He watched with fatherly pride as Trent ambled down the short hall and closed himself in his bedroom. It was only a few seconds before he heard the sounds of light jazz from Trent’s system. After all Bishop and Trent had been through in their lives, in Mike’s opinion, his boys had still turned out to be decent, hardworking men.
“Yeah. Thanks, Mike. That’ll make things go a lot smoother in the mornings,” Wood added.
Mike nodded at the gratitude, but his attention and gaze had traveled to Rayne where he sat alone at the dining table reading what looked like a textbook. As if he felt Mike’s eyes on him, he slowly lifted his head, running one hand over his golden-brown hair. His smile was soft and sweet, albeit a little sad. Why isn’t he watching the movie with them? Surely, Rayne couldn’t feel he was that much of an imposition. Maybe he doesn’t like action movies. Mike was thinking about this way too hard, and he was still staring.
Rayne exhaled a silent breath, his full lips pursing as if he was blowing a kiss before he said in a hushed tone, “Would you like a bottle of water or a cold beer, Mike? That job took quite a while.”
Mike’s brows rose. He wasn’t used to anyone giving a shit if he worked hard and was thirsty. “Sure. Thanks.”
Rayne had just slid his chair from beneath the table when Wood’s gruff voice brought him up short. “Mike knows where the refrigerator is. He’s had no problems helping himself to whatever he’s wanted before.”
Mike’s full attention had been on Rayne, which was why he hadn’t noticed Wood leaning against the wall behind him with his arms folded over his thick chest, watching him like a goddamn prison warden. Mike bristled, but he held it in check, his neck tightening from the restraint. Before he could tell Wood to politely fuck off, Rayne scowled, his slim brows dipping in a way that made his pretty face morph into an expression that Mike found sexy as hell.
Anger.
“Wood.” Rayne stood to his full height. He appeared strong and sure, nothing like the insecure man Mike had first met. “He just spent hours fixing your bathroom. It’s not too much to get him a drink?”
Mike’s steps were heavy when he walked across the room, his boots loud when he got to the faded linoleum floor as he jerked the other chair out across from Rayne’s and dropped all of his two hundred and fifty pounds onto the seat. He wouldn’t curse Wood out right now because he understood exactly why he was acting like an ass. He was trying to protect his friend, and Mike could respect that. In his world, there was nothing a person shouldn’t do for their family or their brothers. And Wood was being there for his, but he didn’t have to treat Rayne like he didn’t have his own mind. True, he was in recovery, but he was also a grown-ass man.
And most of all, Mike didn’t appreciate being treated like a vulture. He wasn’t preying on Rayne.
Am I?
Rayne set a cold bottle of Bud Light in front of Mike, then sat back in his own seat and picked up his book. His light eyes were zeroed in on Wood, and Mike had a hard time not looking over his shoulder and telling Wood that his business was already in their bedroom and maybe he should join it. But he stayed cool, although staring at Rayne had a strange effect on him.
“I don’t feel tired yet. I think I’m gonna watch a little more television.” Wood glared at Mike. “Don’t mind me.”