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“I thought you were disgusted by it,” Edison said quietly. If it hadn’t been so dark and silent in his small bedroom, Bishop wouldn’t’ve been able to hear him.
Bishop moaned when he dipped his hand into his shorts. “Why in the hell would that disgust me? I don’t know what my face looked like when you told me. It probably wasn’t good. But it was an internal battle I was struggling with and I needed to go… get some air. But I was coming back, and I knew I could make it right.”
“You could’ve handled that differently, Bishop. I felt like crap and…”
“I know,” Bishop said. “And I’m sorry. I was gonna make it up to you. I was. I didn’t think you’d text me in the middle of the night and dump me.”
Edison barked a quick laugh. “Dump you? How can I dump you when we’re not even together?”
Bishop could hear the suggestion, could sense Edison’s slight smile and hesitancy through the phone. He lowered his voice. “Edison. Let me come over tomorrow, okay. I have something I want to tell you.”
“All right,” Edison said after several long seconds. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Night, handsome.”
Bishop set his phone on the nightstand after Edison had hung up and forced himself to get some sleep. He needed to work his ass off tomorrow. He’d almost fucked up his chance with an awesome guy before he’d even gotten one. And he knew why. Mixing business and pleasure would always result in a misunderstanding, then disaster. So, he would fix that as soon as he got to Edison’s house in the morning.
No more business with his pleasure.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Edison
Edison was used to waking up early, but when he cracked his eyes open at five in the morning, he knew it was his nerves. He’d gotten a few hours of shuteye, but it was enough for him to function. He decided to kill some time by doing some free weights and a half hour on the elliptical machine. It was six thirty by the time he’d showered, shaved, and dressed in a pair of Nike track pants and a plain white T-shirt.
He ate a quick breakfast of eggs, bacon and cinnamon toast while he read the New York Times online. He still had an hour before Bishop arrived and his nerves were trying to get the better of him and he knew only one way to calm them. He went in his kitchen and started pulling ingredients to make some blueberry muffins. Edison was crazy to keep cooking like this for Bishop, but he loved watching him enjoy his food. Besides, it was just muffins and coffee… and juice. That was it.
He found himself smiling while he folded the crushed blueberries into the batter. He thought he wasn’t going to see Bishop for a while, but he was coming, had insisted. He’d asked for a chance to make it up to him. Edison listened to Bishop try to explain his actions last night, and he wanted to believe his reasoning. It sounded good. Honorable even. But, he didn’t want that. He wanted Bishop the bad boy to haul him to his room, throw him onto his bed and ravish him like a man who’d been without all his life. Edison groaned in sexual frustration as he lined the muffin tin with liners and filled each one with the batter. Once he sprinkled extra sugar on top, he popped it into his top oven and set the timer. They should be nice and warm when Bishop got there.
He tidied around his already clean home and opened all his blinds and doors to allow the morning sunshine in. He’d also have a full view of Bishop in the yard as he worked on his laptop at the dining room table. He’d just turned off the oven when he heard the sound of a truck pulling into his driveway. Edison quickly placed each large muffin on the cooling rack then went to open the front door.
Bishop wore a black long-sleeve shirt, dirt-stained khakis, and tan construction boots. He waved when Bishop noticed him and he’d been so entranced by his work attire that he hadn’t noticed Trent at the back of the long trailer.
“B, you want me to bring down the riding mower now?” Trent asked. He had on a loose-fitting tank top and worn jeans, with his overshirt tied around his shaved head to protect him from the sun.
“Yeah. The weed whackers too,” Bishop said as he climbed the porch steps, his dark eyes roaming up and down Edison’s body. “Good morning.”
“Hello,” Edison said nonchalantly.
“May I come in?” Bishop inched closer, giving Edison no choice but to back up and allow him inside or collide into him.
“Sure.” Edison didn’t hold the door. Instead, he turned and walked towards his kitchen, leaving Bishop to follow.
