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)
“Ugh. I’m gonna kick both of their asses,” Mike grumbled, then got up and pulled Rayne to his feet. Rayne was still dusting off his pants and shirt when Mike hollered, “Goddamnit, it’s open! Get your asses in here before you knock my fuckin’ fence down.”
Rayne was surprised to see Bishop and Trent come through the side fence door as if they knew exactly where to find their dad on a Sunday morning. Trent had a shit-eating grin on his face, but Bishop looked serious, like a younger, hot version of his father.
“What’s up, Dad?” Trent asked while staring at Rayne, who was trying to shield his hard dick and the dirty handprints on his chest behind Mike.
“You didn’t answer the phone, so I figured you’d be in the yard.” Bishop nodded at Rayne, and he returned a small, embarrassed wave.
“I didn’t pick up for a reason,” Mike retorted.
“I see why.” Trent hid his smile behind his fist.
“Since you haven’t answered or responded to any of our calls and texts, we assumed you wanted some face time, then.”
“Then you thought wrong, B, because that’s the opposite of what that shit means.”
“Come on, let’s talk.” Bishop stopped near a pile of mulch Mike had stacked at the edge of the yard and hefted two onto his left shoulder.
Trent walked by Mike and gave him a father/son jab in his shoulder and said in a sarcastic tone, “So how’d you sleep?”
Rayne was leery of Bishop’s obvious attitude, feeling bad that he’d caused a rift between Mike and his sons. He’d never intended for that to happen, but apparently, they weren’t aware of this side of their dad, and they wanted answers. Now. Rayne tugged on Mike’s hand to get his attention, figuring it was best to leave so Bishop and Trent could speak to their father in private.
“Don’t worry, I’ll handle them,” Mike started, but Rayne cut him off.
“I’m gonna make a run to the grocery store. I want to make us dinner tonight and talk, if that’s okay?”
“You don’t have to ever ask if that’s okay. It will always be more than okay.” Mike wasn’t shy about their tight proximity, his heated gaze still narrowed on Rayne’s mouth. “Drive my truck. I don’t want you taking the bus. The keys are on the hook by the garage door.”
Rayne nodded, knowing it’d be futile to insist on using the HRT. What Mike said goes. Period. And fuck if Rayne didn’t love it that way.
Chapter Thirty-one
Mike
Mike waited until Rayne was inside the house before he put his gloves back on and joined his sons by the exotic flower bed. The three of them got to work, and Mike didn’t have to give either of his boys instructions on what to do. Trent started to pull weeds while Bishop began to spread out a new layer of mulch. It was quiet for a long time while they enjoyed working together on something all of them were naturally great at. Both Bishop and Trent had worked for Mike’s company last year and learned the trade before Bishop started his own landscape design business and Trent went into the construction field full-time with his good friend Summer.
“So, Mike. What’s new with you?” Trent asked, full of sarcasm. He took a beer out of Mike’s cooler and tossed one to both of them before he closed the lid and sat on top of it. His sons were making themselves comfortable, which meant Mike’s time was up. He could no longer avoid this conversation.
“Stressful,” Mike answered with truth because it was. At least up until Rayne put his hands all over him—then things got very calm.
“Where’s he sleeping?” Bishop asked bluntly, and Mike answered in the same fashion.
“The guest room is his, but it won’t be long before he’s sleeping in my bed.” Because that’s what Mike wanted. He was going to tell Rayne tonight that if he wanted him, then Mike was all his. He understood his responsibilities going in, and he believed he could be the supportive, understanding, non-judging partner that Rayne needed him to be.
“Dad,” Trent chuckled. “What in the actual fuck? You’re gay… well, bisexual?”
“If you say so.” Mike shrugged, then took a long swig of his beer.
“What do you mean ‘if I say so’?” Trent scoffed. “You’ve always been with women, and now you’re hot for a guy younger than your own sons.”
Mike glanced away for a split second. Although he’d kept his expression neutral, Bishop still caught it. Of course he did.
“Have you only been with women?” Bishop asked straight up.
“No.”
“When?”
“You were young, before Trent came… you might not remember him.”
“Try me.”
Mike stared his son in his eyes. This was how he and Bishop communicated. More like lifelong friends than father and son, blunt and straight to the damn point. No being coy or beating around the bush. It was all straight, no chaser, when they talked. So, Mike could understand Bishop’s attitude about being kept in the dark about something so important, something they could’ve maybe bonded over years ago.