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)
Mike was nodding while he listened to Edison and the footsteps he heard coming down the hall.
“There’s two other women and a guy that head up the front desk. And they are so much fun. I think—”
“Shh.” Mike slowed the conversation as Chelsea, Rayne, and Wood came from out the back and made themselves comfortable in the living room.
Mike got lost in the way Rayne moved his sleek body as he got cozy on the chaise lounge with his friend. There was something mysteriously beautiful about him that Mike almost became hypnotized as he stared. He’d never met a man so calm and at peace, though it was clear he had inner turmoil that he battled with every day. It was the quiet power Rayne had that made Mike want to absorb some of it into his own raucous mind. Or maybe Mike was enamored with the soft smile that never quite reached Rayne’s light eyes. No. Those stayed sad.
“Dad. We need to have a conversation.”
“Damnit, Bishop! Not now.” Mike raised his voice, causing Rayne to glance in his direction.
“Then when?” Bishop shot back.
Mike clamped his hand down on his son’s shoulder, staring him in his eyes. He could see the confusion and the hurt. Bishop was smart, and Mike was sure he’d already figured it out that he was making a play for Rayne. Now Bishop wanted an explanation as to why he didn’t know this side of his father even existed.
Hell, Mike hadn’t been sure it existed anymore. No woman or man had made Mike’s pulse quicken in almost thirty years. He’d thought what he’d felt for his old club mate slash roommate, Slick, was a once-in-a-lifetime feeling because it’d never happened again. Not until… now.
Rayne’s eyes met his over Bishop’s shoulder. The gentle expression that’d been on his handsome face slowly began to transform into a seductive gleam that made something foreign pierce Mike’s chest, a feeling he didn’t understand. Energy rippled between their locked gazes. He fought to keep his body in neutral, but Rayne was playing a dangerous game with him. Those damn eyes were fathomless, an abyss that held warmth, happiness, understanding, and compassion.
Rayne gave him a subtle, sexy-as-fuck wink, a secret shared only between them that made Mike’s dick jerk behind his zipper. He couldn’t return the gesture without Bishop or Edison noticing, so he stored it away for later. Rayne’s lopsided smile was cute as hell before he turned back toward Chelsea, who’d never stopped talking.
Feeling a spike of encouragement, Mike proceeded with his plan. He got up and walked around Bishop and into the kitchen, pretending like he was helping Edison prepare the desserts.
“Okay, receptionist it is,” Mike said out of the side of his mouth.
“Okay,” Edison chuckled as he glanced over their shoulders, which were conspiratorially close. “And this friend of yours doesn’t happen to have a felony rap sheet a mile long, do they?”
Mike grimaced. I don’t think so. The charges Rayne had were probably all misdemeanors. “Nope. All good.”
Edison nodded. “Should be fine for a temp job, then. Can you tell them to come fill out an application tomorrow and I can do a quick interview?”
“No. I can’t tell him—it’ll be too obvious.” Mike frowned, talking more to himself. “He’ll know it was me.”
“You’re already being too obvious,” Bishop grated.
“I am not.” Mike kept his voice lower than the volume of the violent video game Trent had blaring in the living room.
“Being obvious about what?” Edison asked with a curious smile. “So who’s the friend?”
“See?” Mike pointed at Edison’s cluelessness. “He thinks I’m just helping a friend that needs a job.”
“And I think that’s quite admirable what you’re doing, Mike.” Edison’s gaze bounced back and forth between them. “It’s good for the soul to do for others.”
“Thank you, future son-in-law,” Mike said as sweetly as he could muster, earning himself a beaming smile.
Bishop sucked his teeth. “Eddie, you have no clue what he’s doing, do you?”
“Huh?”
Poor Edison. So trusting and innocent. Mike reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. He counted out several twenty-dollar bills and shoved them into Edison’s palm.
Edison stared uncertainly at the wad of cash. “What’s this for?”
“My second favor.”
“Okay.”
“I need you to go to that huge bookstore in Town Center where you and my son like to go on Wednesday nights to get freaky in the mystery section and pick up what they have on yoga and that mindfulness shit.”
Edison flushed, spinning around to face Bishop as tawny red splotches appeared on his pudgy cheeks. “You—you told your dad about that?”
Bishop shot daggers at Mike before he tried to save his own ass. “Well, no… not like all of it. But maybe some—”
Edison swatted Bishop in the center of his chest, giving him a look that appeared to promise punishment later, and not the good kind.