Wood: A True Lover's Story

Wood’s chest expanded, and he tried to contain the excitement bubbling up inside.

“I hope I’m not insulting you, and I know you know a shit ton more about this business than me and it’d probably be you teaching me more than anything, but it’s a quick way to get your license back if you’re in a shop with an official apprenticeship program.”

Wood almost wanted to grab the young man and spin him around in his arms. “I don’t know what to say. I mean, are you sure?” You’re not worried about working with a convicted felon?

El’s warm cheeks blushed a soft pink. “It’d be my honor. Truly. I’d just need a copy of your expired license, and if you got some portfolios for me to browse through while I submit the paperwork to the cosmetology board, that would be great.”

“I can get that to you,” Wood said, though he wasn’t sure how.

“Get what?” Brad asked when he came out of the office with their waters. “I’m sorry that took so long. I had to take a call. El, that was the electrician. I confirmed the appointment for tomorrow.”

“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.