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)
“I was busy,” Wood scowled.
“Manny called you guys at six this morning. What the hell were you doing?”
“Enjoying my freedom. You were the one in time-out, not me,” Wood chuckled, and Mike just refrained from flinging open Wood’s door and kicking him out onto the highway.
Mike tossed his bag labeled Chesapeake City Jail Inmate Property onto the floorboard when he felt a presence behind him. He whipped his head around, his breath hitching in his throat when he saw it was Rayne in the back seat, looking like a goddamn hot breakfast sandwich.
So fucking delicious.
Which only served to infuriate Mike even more. It was his first time seeing the younger man since he’d run into Wood’s tattoo shop a couple of weeks ago seeking protection and a safe place to crash for a while. Mike still didn’t know why he’d intervened and reacted the way he did that evening or why looking at Rayne now affected him the way it did. He just knew there was something unique about the younger man that tugged at a part of himself he’d long forgotten existed. Mike hadn’t had a reason to go over to Trent and Wood’s place since Rayne moved into the trailer, and he’d been meaning to make one up. But he certainly hadn’t wanted their next encounter to be like this.
“Good morning.” Rayne spoke as if he was whispering and speaking aloud at the same time—silken, relaxed, yet confident, and it blew Mike’s mind.
He tried not to do a full inspection, but his gaze roamed over Rayne’s immaculate physique anyway. He wore black jeans that hugged his thighs and slate-gray designer boots. Mike could only tell they were expensive because he was able to see the name brand on the bright red bottom of the shoe since Rayne was sitting in a casual figure-four position with one ankle propped on his other knee. It was a dangerous way to ride in a car, but Rayne looked so damn smooth Mike doubted anyone would encourage him to sit otherwise. Rayne was leaning against the door, the other half of his back against the seat as if he was purposefully facing Mike to allow him to look his fill. The sensual glint in Rayne’s gray eyes while he watched Mike in return made him feel as transparent as glass.
“You okay over there?” Wood broke the weird silence that was left suspended in the truck after Rayne’s polite “good morning” went unanswered.
Shit. Why am I breathing so hard? Oh yeah, because he was furious. Not because he was feeling anything unusual. “I’m fine,” he rumbled at Wood. “I’m just tired and need to get home. It’s been a long night.”
“I understand.” Wood nodded.
Mike muttered a quick “morning” in return to Rayne that tasted sour in his mouth.
Wood continued to watch him out of the corner of his eyes as he pushed seventy miles per hour down I-64 to take them toward Mike’s small neck of the woods within the vast metropolis that was the seven cities of Hampton Roads. “You wanna talk about it?”
“With you? No.”
“Maybe I can lend an ear. It’s not healthy to hold it inside, Mike. Sometimes talking about it, venting it out, can release the stress of the situation. When you have repressed emotions, you can’t worry about judgment from others. You have to first check in with yourself.” Wood nodded. “Sound good?”
Mike sighed. “Actually, it sounds like someone’s been watching a few too many TED Talks.”
Wood shot him an exasperated look. “I’m just saying I’m here to listen and help if you need it.”
“I’m afraid you don’t have enough initials behind your last name, Wood, to help me understand my shit, but thanks.” He appreciated Wood was trying to be a decent guy and of course stay in his good graces since Mike was basically his father-in-law, but he didn’t want to make himself appear any worse than he already did. Telling the truth about why he was locked up wouldn’t make him look good; he’d just end up sounding stupid and immature.
“I was offering because I give great advice,” Wood said, complimenting himself.
Mike rubbed at the deep creases in the center of his forehead. “Wood, I’m not about to take advice from a guy wearing a wallet chain.”
Rayne laughed, a soft, delicate sound, but apparently, Wood didn’t find it amusing. After Mike and Wood’s one fight a few months ago after he’d hurt Trent and sent him running, Mike had been ready to fulfill the promise he’d made to do some permanent damage to Wood if he ever hurt his son. Needless to say, it didn’t take Wood long to fix his fuckup and never make that mistake again. While it was true Mike had turned his life around, it was only so far his rehabilitation reached… and where it ended.