“You’re sick.” Trent frowned and snatched the phone away. He irritably noticed Wood had put on a T-shirt somewhere amongst the scuffle. “Great, now he’s all covered up.”
Wood laughed, and Summer fell over Trent’s back, clutching her chest as if she was melting from Wood’s hotness. “Even his laugh is fine.”
“I’ll let you guys enjoy what’s left of your lunch break. Trent, I’ll see you when you get home.”
“Mmhmm,” Trent hummed, staring hard into Wood’s eyes, knowing he could read what he couldn’t say out loud.
Wood began to nod slowly, a sexy smile teasing his ruggedly handsome face. “Did you read my note?”
Trent scoffed. “No. Not yet.”
“After you do, text me your answer.”
Trent’s nerves were wedged in his throat, so he simply nodded his approval and disconnected the call. Summer had the heat blowing in the truck by the time he settled into the passenger seat. He reached on the floorboard behind him, flung the lid of his lunch pail open, and read the scribbled words on the torn slip of paper tucked inside. Trent exhaled roughly, his dick going from half-hard to raging. Oh fuck me. Wood had ramped up the suggestive innuendo from thirty to one hundred overnight. Trent felt as if his head was spinning, he was so dizzy.
“You okay over there, guy?” Summer asked. “You look like you’ve just seen the man of your dreams and he’s waiting for you on your couch naked.”
Trent knew his face was several shades of red. Summer had hit the nail on the head. He folded the note and tucked it down in his pocket. Wood said he was cooking dinner tonight… and asked if Trent would be his dessert.
Before he thought about it too hard, Trent pulled out his cell phone and sent his answer.
Trent: Agreed. I’ll be ready to eat when I get home.
Wood’s reply was instant as if he’d been waiting for the message.
Wood: So will I.
Wood: And I plan to eat all night long.
Oh my god. Wood wanted to eat him. Trent squirmed in his seat, trying to get comfortable. Why’s it so damn hot all of a sudden? He unzipped his thick jacket and fanned the front of his sweater. How was he gonna work around all those guys—and Summer—with his hard cock stabbing the front of his jeans? He’d have to make no facetiming a new rule.
“You sure you don’t wanna get off early today?” Summer chuckled. “Literally.”
Trent groaned. “Just drive.”
“What was that you just read that has you all hot and bothered now? Don’t freakin’ tell me Wood left you a sexy note in your lunchbox.” Summer gazed off as if she were watching a herd of unicorns gallop over a rainbow. “That’s called old-school romance right there. You lucky motherfucker.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Wood
“So what in the hell brings you two over here in a cab?” Unannounced. Wood asked Bishop as he and Edison sat around the dining table drinking bottles of water while he stirred his chicken alfredo.
“On Thursday nights a few people from my office go to a happy-hour bar in Town Center after work. So, Bishop thought it’d be a good idea for me to accept the invite at least once. We took an Uber just in case we had a drink.” Edison shook his head. “Didn’t happen though. I don’t like to get inebriated with coworkers. It’s not professional.”
“Well, you’re the boss, right? I guess that would be weird,” Wood agreed. He checked the time on the stove and realized that Trent should be home any minute. He’d been anticipating what he was going to do to him as soon as he came through the door, but now the plan of shoving him against the wall and kissing him senseless was out.
Edison joined him at the stove after he threw away his bottle of water, and Bishop looked as if he was getting ready to make himself comfortable for the evening. Damnit.
“That smells pretty good. Do you and Trent take turns cooking?” Edison asked while tying on an apron. He somehow politely extracted the spoon from Wood’s hand and began to slowly stir the creamy sauce. “Now did you by any chance add some cream cheese to your sauce? I find that it thickens the Alfredo just right.”
Wood glanced at Bishop, who gave him a don’t look at me shrug, then down at Edison. Was he for real? Who’d he think he was, Bobby Flay? “No, Edison. I poured my sauce out that Ragu jar that’s over there in the trash can. I’m sure it all tastes the same.”
Edison dropped the spoon in the pot and stumbled backward with his hand over his heart as if he was having a coronary. Wood stared in disbelief as Bishop rushed over and took Edison in his arms and hurriedly fanned his face. “It’s okay, sweetheart. Breathe. Just relax, and breathe. He didn’t know.”
“Oh lord. He just… I was right here… why’d he do that?” Edison appeared devastated, and Wood started cracking up as he went back to submerging his strips of chicken breast in his Ragu. “Man, my life just keeps getting more and more interesting because of you, Bishop.”
Wood could see Bishop holding in his own laugh as he moved his distraught boyfriend to the couch and gave him another bottle of water. “Here, Eddie. Just sit here until your blood pressure evens out.”
“Please tell me this is a skit you guys do to entertain your company,” Wood said, leaning against the counter and watching Edison’s dramatic reaction.
“Unfortunately, not. Dude, couldn’t you have just said yes to the cream cheese?” Bishop asked, still trying to settle his partner.
The front door exploded open, and Wood’s good mood went from amused to elated. Trent dropped his heavy duffle bag on the floor and blared at him, “Wood! New rule!”
Wood was tempted to grip himself when he saw the deep frown lines in Trent’s brow and the determined lust gleaming in his eyes. “Evening.” He almost moaned but cleared his throat to cover it.
“Don’t you fuckin’ good evening me. Do you have any idea what predicament I was in all day?” Trent hissed. He marched across the floor with his glare focused on him, looking as if he was about to give it to him good, and Wood really wanted to receive whatever Trent wanted to dish out, but they had guests.
“Trent, calm down. You just walked in the house for shit’s sake. What could Wood have possibly done?” Bishop stood up with his hands on his hips.
Trent skidded to a halt at the dining table, his eyes going wide at the realization they weren’t alone. “Hey… what?”
“You told me the two of you were getting along.” Bishop walked over, and Wood had to put his fist over his mouth to hide his grin as Trent stood there seething at him. “You even stayed home from work while he recovered from the flu. I mean… did I miss something?”
“We are getting along. Aren’t we, Trent?” Wood winked. “He just loves his rules, that’s all, Bishop.”
“Trent, go get changed. I’m starving.” Bishop clapped his hands together. “Wood made pasta. I thought tonight was gonna be a bust after being around Edison’s corny friends for two hours.”
“Y’all are staying?” Trent cut his eyes to Wood longingly—he knew what he was feeling—then back to their impromptu company.