“Thanks. Wood is going to work here while he renews his license,” El said almost proudly.
“Awww, shit!” Brad’s eyes almost bugged out of his head as he came from around the desk and grabbed his nephew by the shoulders. “Hell yeah! That’s the best damn business decision you made all year, boy. Shit!”
Their smiles were contagious, and Wood found himself getting caught up in the excitement.
Chapter Eight
Trent
Trent was lying on the couch playing his video game online when he heard Bishop’s truck roll up in the driveway. He checked the time on his cell phone—as if he hadn’t just done that five minutes ago—then tossed it onto the coffee table. It was after fucking midnight; the restaurant closed two hours ago. What the hell had they been doing all this time? Wood used his key to let himself inside, and when Trent saw the huge grin on his face, he didn’t know why he got so pissed. Where were Wood’s manners? If Trent had just moved in with someone he didn’t know, he wouldn’t be out sleeping around and coming in at all hours of the morning the very next day.
“Evening,” Wood said easily as he hung his coat on the hook, then removed his hat and scarf.
Wood wove his hand through his hair, then blew his breath into his palm as he made his way to the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator and bent over to get a bottle of water from the bottom shelf. “It’s really cold out there tonight, especially close to the water. You should’ve come with us, Trent. Dinner was amazing.”
Trent closed his eyes at the sound of his name coming out of Wood’s mouth in that deep, gritty voice. He didn’t watch the way Wood’s throat worked as he gulped an entire bottle of water down in seconds. And he couldn’t acknowledge how much space his big body took up in the kitchen. So, he did what he was used to when he was upset. He pushed. “Where was Edison tonight?”
Wood leaned against the counter with his thumbs tucked in his pants pockets. Trent caught a glint of metal in the dim lighting and realized that Wood had a thick silver chain going from his side to his back pocket. Trent rolled his eyes. Guys don’t even wear those anymore.
“Bishop said Edison was working late.”
“Mmhmm.” Trent inched closer to show Wood he wasn’t intimidated by his motorcycle-club look or his size. “Doesn’t Bishop have an exam at the end of the week?”
Wood stared at him for a moment, then shrugged. “I don’t know. He didn’t mention it.”
Trent shook his head. He wasn’t as good as Bishop at reading people, so he wasn’t exactly ready to trust Wood. Not when he knew nothing about him. And instead of them maybe having dinner at home tonight and getting to know each other, Wood couldn’t wait to get out and meet someone else. Without thinking Trent asked, “What were you in prison for, Wood?” He saw a crack in Wood’s cool demeanor when he asked the question, which led him to believe it was something horrible.
For several seconds Wood didn’t answer, and the longer Trent stood his ground, the more he regretted asking the question. It wasn’t something a man asked another man, and it damn sure wasn’t something two ex-convicts discussed. Trent knew better, but he didn’t back down. “Well?”
Wood seemed to snap out of whatever daze he’d slipped into and took his own bold steps in Trent’s direction. As he leaned in, Trent inhaled sharply, his eyes going straight to Wood’s firm mouth. He wanted to inch back and make some space between them, but he didn’t know how to show submission.
“None of your business,” Wood growled.
It was the first time Trent had heard Wood be anything but polite, and he knew he should stop while he was ahead, but that’d never been his style. “It is my business if you’re gonna be involving Bishop. He’s had a rough year since he got out, and I’m not about to let you corrupt him and mess up everything he’s worked for.”
“Corrupt him?” Wood scowled. “Is that what you think I’m doing? You don’t know me well enough to judge me, Trent.”
“You’re right, Wood! I don’t know a single thing about you. I don’t even know your damn name. Is Wood your first name? Your last name? Is it just Wood? Like SEAL or Cher. Or is Wood your Grindr username? I have no clue.” Trent probably didn’t have any right to make demands, but it was shitty to try to force him to live with a complete stranger. Now he was curious as to what Wood was hiding.
“If you were that concerned with what we were doing tonight, then you should’ve accepted the invitation and came with us. Bishop and I went to dinner, Trent. That’s all. I bumped into an old friend I used to work with, and he joined us. We got to talking and reminiscing… and maybe we lost track of time.” Wood closed his eyes and seemed to take a deep breath before he continued. “Bishop didn’t tell me I’d have another warden to answer to while living here.”
Trent could feel his face warming and his heart hammering in his chest. He was getting himself worked up and frustrated that he couldn’t get a direct answer from Wood. That’s how he knew his new roommate wouldn’t be sticking around, and it wouldn’t be long before Mike was shuffling in some other poor schmuck to live with him. Trent had lost count how many times he’d been told he was intolerable to be around. He was sick of being left alone, sick of being tossed aside, and had no clue how to stop it from continuously happening. Trent’s head began to pound, and the throbbing behind his left eye only served to frustrate him more. He didn’t know why he was exerting so much energy on someone he didn’t know… at all.
“Look. I can see you need some time alone.”
“Really?” Trent bit out. He crossed his hands over his chest in an effort to silence the bass drums beating behind his rib cage. He made the mistake of inhaling that fragrance that seemed to meld into Wood’s own scent to make a heady combination that left Trent dizzy and a little mad. “You really going to keep your name a secret? I guess I’ll just call you Woody W. Wood.”
Wood flinched hard as if he’d been stabbed by a hot poker. After several stern breaths as if he was struggling to calm himself, Wood’s light brown eyes shot over to meet his. And for the first time since Wood had barged into Trent’s life he saw fire, passion, and hurt blazing in those blown orbs as he closed the small space between them. “Don’t call me Woody. Do not ever call me that. You got it?”
Wood walked out of the kitchen without another word as if Trent had been corrected and was now dismissed. What the hell? Trent admitted that he didn’t always know when to leave well enough alone, but sometimes getting under someone’s skin was the only way to find out the real them. “Understood. Good night, Woody?”
Trent didn’t make it into his bedroom before a thick, tattooed forearm was hooked around his throat. He was momentarily shocked at the sheer strength Wood possessed as he was spun hard and pushed against the wall. Trent just managed to clutch on to two broad shoulders before Wood was in his face, their noses touching. “What the—”
“Has no one ever taught you to respect your elders, boy?” Wood growled. Trent was pinned, rendered immobile, and all he could do was stare, completely riveted.