In Trey’s defense, he’d been indulging in some late nights these past few months. Six months to be exact. But it was only once or twice a week—three at the most.
Four last week, but who’s counting?
Christ.
His thoughts drifted to Magnus Storme, the damn dog trainer who’d been plaguing his mind and occupying his bed as of late. Didn’t help that he’d encountered Magnus and his cocky smile again last night when he’d been heading out. Evidently, Thursday evenings were at-home training days for Tesha. Probably be wise to remember that so he could make himself scarce the next time.
Even now, he thought about Magnus and how the man had shown up on his doorstep last night. As usual, Magnus had sweet-talked his way right into Trey’s house, then damn near directly into his bed. It was something the guy was good at. No matter how hard Trey tried to resist the much younger man, it never worked.
It usually meant he needed a couple extra cups of coffee to keep his eyes open.
Not that he was obsessed with Magnus and his cocky smile. The guy was merely a distraction, a way for Trey to forget about all the shit that had gone wrong in his life these last few years. Namely his divorce and the epically bad relationship choices after.
And yes, he could admit it, he had an addictive personality—or so he’d been told—which he liked to believe was why he tended to fixate on certain things. Like booze and sex.
Granted, he’d kicked the booze, but the sex … damn, that was a difficult habit to break. Especially since Magnus could rock Trey’s world like no one else.
As long as it remained only about sex, Trey was willing to enjoy the few hours they had together, which was why he’d stopped trying to fight it. He was indulging in something that wouldn’t go anywhere, and he saw no reason not to enjoy it while it lasted. It wouldn’t be much longer, he figured. When the sex became routine, it would be over for both of them.
Trey booted up his computer then headed to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. It was always there for him when he arrived, so it took a minute to figure it out. Once he got it brewing, he paced the floor, glancing at the empty desks, thinking about all the interviews they’d been doing, the people they were going to hire to fill them, what this place would look like once they did. They’d tossed around names the past few days, so he had a pretty good idea who they’d settled on, but he wasn’t going to pretend to know what to expect. This was all new to him and every damn day seemed to throw another curveball his way.
He thought back to when Brantley had offered him the job. Trey’d been working as a security guard for a high-end hotel, going through the motions. He’d just started up a very intriguing relationship with Cyrus Jernigan, a good friend of Brantley’s, and he’d mistakenly believed his luck was shifting. New job, new man.
And then last November happened, and Cyrus opted to take a job in California just so he could skip town without so much as a see ya later. When he did, Trey’d been a little shaken. No. Scratch that. He’d been hurt. That was what he’d been. Hurt by the fact Cyrus could so easily dump his ass like he was yesterday’s news.
Not that he’d been heartbroken or anything. Trey hadn’t fallen in love with the guy, for fuck’s sake. They’d just been having fun. Indulging, like Cyrus had said. And no, Trey hadn’t been ready for it to end, but Cyrus hadn’t given him a say in the matter.
“Pouting doesn’t suit you,” he muttered to himself, heading for the kitchen when he heard the coffeemaker coughing its completion.
He wasn’t pouting, damn it. He was … reflecting. Yes. Reflecting. That was all this was. He no longer thought about Cyrus because he was enjoying his time with Magnus. The guy had come along at a time when he’d needed him. And the sex? Off. The. Fucking charts. That was all it was.
Trey poured a cup of coffee, added one packet of Splenda, then made his way to his desk. He took a sip as he was taking his seat but reversed course immediately and headed back to the kitchen. He grabbed two more Splenda, dumped them in the cup, and prayed no one gave him shit for fucking up the coffee.
Right now, he needed to focus on important things.
Like this cold case he’d been working on for the past couple of months. He hadn’t gotten as far as he would’ve liked, but he wanted to believe he was making progress. Probably would’ve been wise to use the case during the interviews when they’d gone the interactive route, giving their potential new hires a glimpse at their day to day. He could’ve gotten someone else’s perspective on it. Maybe Baz could take a look, see what Trey was missing. After all, he was the novice here. Luckily for him, the others were willing to forgive his idiocy and help him along. He wasn’t sure that would be the case when they were fully staffed.
Movement across the room caught his eye, and he looked up to see the image of Brantley, JJ, and Reese moving across the big screen mounted on the wall. The heads-up allowed him time to pretend he was busy, flipping to his email just as he heard the faint beep of the keypad outside the door. A second later, the lock disengaged.
“Mornin’,” he greeted, reaching for his coffee and hiding his wince when he took another sip. Yep, he’d definitely fucked it up.
“Saw you get here. Why didn’t you come in and grab somethin’ to eat?” Brantley asked.
“Ate at the house,” he lied easily. “Plus, y’all looked mighty cozy.”
Reese’s eyebrows popped, as though telling him that things did appear to be settling down. Good thing, too. Trey was starting to suffocate on the tension. God knows he had enough stress in his personal life. He damn sure didn’t need any help with more.
*
Doing his best to pretend it wasn’t a huge deal that Trey was there before he was, Brantley plastered a smile on his face and accepted a cup of coffee when Reese passed it over.
“What’s got you all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed this mornin’?” he teased his brother.
“Is that what I am?”
“Looks like it.” He motioned toward Trey’s computer, took a sip of coffee, winced. “What the fuck is this shit?”
The slow smirk that formed on Trey’s mouth told him everything.
“You are not allowed to make the coffee,” Brantley barked. “Ever.”
Trey laughed, looking up at him as he pushed his own mug away. “It’s horrible, huh?”
“That’s one word for it.”
“I’ll make more,” JJ said, giggling as she watched them.
Brantley handed over his cup when she reached for it. “Besides makin’ shitty coffee, what’re you doin’ up and at ’em before the rest of us?”
“Maybe y’all are just slackin’ this mornin’. Ever think of that?”
A slow smile formed on his mouth as Brantley thought about the ten-mile run, the half-hour shower with Reese. “Nope. Don’t think that’s it.”
Trey held up a hand, blocking him from view. “Nope. I don’t even wanna know what you’re thinkin’ right now, little brother. Keep your perverted-ass thoughts to yourself.”
“I’m not one to kiss and tell. You should know that by now.”
Trey pretended to gag, making Reese laugh.
“Uh-oh,” Charlie said when she stepped into the barn. “What’d I miss?”