Total pages in book: 142
Estimated words: 133180 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 666(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133180 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 666(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
“I’m gonna let you go because… I just… mmmm. Yeah. I’m gonna go.” Bishop’s voice sounded strained, and just as husky as his own. “I’ll talk to you soon, handsome.”
Bishop hung up quickly, not giving him a chance to respond but he believed he understood why. Edison tossed his cell onto the bed and the next second he had his shorts shoved down to his knees and his hand fisting his shaft. It was too embarrassing for him to think about how fast it happened as his back bowed off the bed and his come splattered his chest. Bishop’s name lingered on his parted lips, his head reeling at what he’d just done and how hard he’d come.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Bishop
“This was crazy.” Bishop chuckled on their way down the long pier. They passed the fish-cleaning station, and both he and his dad stopped to watch a man scale a roughly twelve-inch fish that kept making a disturbing croaking noise.
“Why couldn’t we get us one of those?” Mike grumbled.
“Well at least we got some crabs.” Bishop shrugged and kept walking. “I like shellfish better than fish with a bunch of bones to pick around to get to the meat.”
“Man, I can’t believe we had to throw back the only three fish we caught.”
Bishop frowned. “Yeah, right. I didn’t know anything about protected fish. What was the name of it again?”
“A flounder. Yeah, I don’t remember hearing about those on Bass Fishers,” Mike said as he tossed their cooler, then the poles into the back of the truck. Bishop hefted the crab bucket and set it securely in the backseat. “Mine was pretty big too but the guy said they have to be what…?”
“Like twenty-one inches or more.” Bishop climbed into the front seat. He was sweaty and hot but as the evening settled in and the sun set, he’d been able to enjoy the peacefulness of the water.
“That’s shit,” Mike bitched. “What happed to ‘there’s plenty of fish in the sea’?”
Bishop smirked. “You’re taking that saying a bit too literal.”
His dad shoved him in the shoulder. “Today was still fun, yeah? Even though I almost punched that guy in the face earlier.”
“He was only joking.” Bishop laughed lightly. “I told you those hooks we had were too big. What’d he say to you, again?”
“What the hell you trying to catch out here, buddy… Jaws?” His dad mocked the guy who’d been standing on the other side of the pier, as he’d yelled loud enough to make a few other veteran fishermen turn and laugh along with him.
“Man, neither one of us knew how to put the weight on the lines and then we had the wrong bait. I don’t know about you, but I felt like a big ass when that old lady had to keep coming to help me untangle my line… like twenty times.”
“I think she liked you.” Mike grinned.
“You’re fuckin sick, man. That woman was like sixty.” Bishop stared out of the window as they got farther away from the water. He really had enjoyed himself. Especially after they’d figured out the mechanics of fishing on a pier and abandoned what they’d learned on Netflix’s Battle Fishing.
There’d been a few moments when it had been quiet, and no one was getting very many bites as the tide went out. It’d been calming, relaxing, and he’d found himself opening up to Mike more than he’d thought. He’d told him about his cellmate Wood and how he’d helped him get through those trying years in prison by being a real friend. He also told him about plans for the business and some new landscape designs he’d thought of. His dad talked about Bishop taking on more of a managing role in the company after he finished with schooling. Mike had so much confidence in him that it made Bishop want to meet all the expectations his only family had of him. He also told Bishop that he and his girlfriend were getting serious and had talked about getting a small place together.
Mike asked him a few questions about Edison that he wasn’t ready to answer—like if they were an actual couple. And if he was going to be completely honest with him. But, neither were questions he had an answer to.
When they pulled up to their trailer, Mike told him to get the poles out of the back of the truck and into the shed while he got the crabs on the stove. His thoughts went to Edison, wondering what he was doing and if he was alone. He didn’t like texting and he didn’t want to call him because he knew he could listen to Edison’s smooth voice for hours, and that wouldn’t’ve been fair to Mike.
He was opening the back screen when he heard his dad yell for his help. Bishop bolted through the door, his eyes wide as he scanned the small kitchen and dining area expecting to see an intruder. He almost lost his mind when he saw Mike’s big ass standing on one of the dining room chairs with a pair of grilling tongs in his hand as one of the blue crabs they caught skittered sideways across their linoleum floor.