Chapter 4

The achein my muscles feels surprisingly good.

God, I needed this.

I stand straight and arch my back, wiping the sweat off my brow. The sun is fierce and high in the sky. It means it’s close to lunch. A quick glance in Bentley’s direction, and I forget to breathe.

At some point this morning, he took off his shirt. Usually, I’d grumble at him for not wearing sunscreen, but he’s in a large shaded area, planting a flower bed. His hands are covered in soil, and as he pats down some earth, he turns to my brother and laughs at whatever Denzel is saying to him.

Bentley’s so good at this—settling Denzel and making sure he feels involved. No one would think he’s an only child. But maybe that’s the reason why he’s so good with my brother. He has a patience I sometimes struggle with. Plus, he’s super calm and has that quiet confidence that seems to put everyone at ease.

“Lunch,” Mateo, the site manager, calls out.

Perfect timing, too, as I was caught up in watching the way Bentley’s biceps flexed.

I take off my leather gloves and stuff them into my back pocket before doing a quick sweep of the area to make sure I haven’t left any tools lying around. Confident I haven’t missed anything, I wait for Bentley and Denzel as they head my way.

I make sure to smile at my brother, happy he’s smiling despite the smudges of dirt on his skin and how soiled his clothes are. Back home, he wouldn’t be caught dead like this. He’s all about image, and while I get it, I really hope that by having some space away from his friends and from school in general this summer, he’ll start to gain some perspective.

It was a no-brainer, taking Bentley up on his offer to come and stay awhile. Terry at the diner was a bit annoyed at me, but he’s a good guy and knows my mom well, so he didn’t kick up too much fuss when I explained I was heading to Texas for three weeks with Denzel.

Denzel grins back before he tugs out his phone. My attention shifts to Bentley, still shirtless and looking sinfully sexy as fuck. His muscles are cut and a fair bit bigger than mine. And fuck if I don’t love it when his weight is pressed against me.

Not that we’ve done any of that over the ten days I’ve been here.

While my dick’s constantly hard for him, being around him is enough. It was before hooking up, and it is now, especially after the initial two weeks of not seeing him.

I’ll appreciate Bentley in every way imaginable. While at his parents’ house with my brother playing a fifteen-year-old chaperone, it means we’re best friends. Period.

“You coping okay?” He tilts his head and does a cursory sweep over my body before making eye contact.

While I feel the heat of his gaze as it licks over my skin, I know he’s checking for injuries.

Seriously, I don’t think anyone on the crew believes I’m a kick-ass athlete, not with the number of mishaps I’ve had.

Just yesterday I fell into a rosebush. I have the scratches to prove it. It hurt like a fucker, but Bentley going into nurse mode and cleaning and applying ointment to my scratches made it worth it.

Two shifts before that, we were finishing packing up, and I went ass over head when pushing the wheelbarrow up a ramp. The manure I fell into made Denzel laugh his head off at me as he hosed me down before I was allowed in the work truck to head to the main depot.

“I’m good.” I roll my eyes and shake my head. I won’t tell him about the close call I had with the shears. Not that it would have been my fault. Bentley is a constant distraction. Every time I hear his deep laughter, it’s impossible to not seek him out.

“Let’s keep it that way this afternoon too.” He nudges my shoulder with his as we walk together toward the parked truck where our cooler is.

Rather than answer him, I check on Denzel, who’s walked ahead to catch up with his new friend. Mateo’s son Hector is working on his dad’s crew this summer and is the same age as Denzel. He also seems like a really good kid.

Tomorrow, we’re going to spend the day at the water park, and Hector is going to come with us. I have everything crossed that Denzel will get into the headspace that smoking joints and hanging out at the abandoned factory a few miles from home isn’t all that. The kid is growing up too damn fast and has stopped finding fun in legit things to be doing when hanging out with his friends.

It’s not even like he doesn’t have a great group. But apparently, a new kid joined his grade a few months back, and Denzel started to get it into his head that skateboarding at the park or spending time at the arcade was no longer cool enough. Or whatever word fifteen-year-old kids use these days.

And fuck if I don’t feel old just thinking that.

Hell, when my mom and stepdad came home from the hospital with Denzel, it was the first time I’d felt even an ounce of responsibility. I remember all too clearly thinking how lucky he was to have two awesome parents. Sure, I call Leroy Dad, but Trevin left a blemish that’s been impossible to scrub clean. And back then, when I was seven, I promised myself that I wouldn’t let my brother go anywhere near assholes like Trevin.

Me being here is one way I can keep that promise.

“How’s Denzel doing?” I ask, slowing my steps till I pause and face Bentley. I don’t want my brother to hear me checking up on him.

“Great. No grumbling or complaining. He’s looking forward to the water park tomorrow.”

Warmth fills my chest. Thank fuck. He was a surly asshole the first couple of shifts until Hector started talking to him about football. I hadn’t even sneered over the fact that they were almost creaming over the upcoming season rather than salivating over the Basketball League draft. I was just glad the kids had something in common and Denzel seemed happier for it.

“Excellent. We still meeting up with some of your high school buddies tonight?” My stomach flips. I don’t especially want to be sharing Bentley with anyone. I’m a selfish fucker. But a couple of beers and sneaking into his room tonight? My dick twinges and my pulse picks up speed, liking the possibility more than I should.

Sure, spending any time with him is incredible, but we’re only here for a little while longer, and having one taste could tide me over.

That makes it sound like a future with me being all up in his business next year. I swallow hard as the familiar lump of frustration forms in my throat.

Focusing on the present needs to be all I’m concerned about. Otherwise, I can’t stand looking at myself in the mirror.

“Yeah, at eight. We won’t go too crazy, not with the water park tomorrow.”

I nod. “Makes sense. Slides and heights with a hangover sounds like a pile of shit.”

Bentley chuckles, and we finally make it to the truck. Denzel’s already inhaling a sandwich and looks to have almost finished the potato chips. There’s also an empty candy wrapper next to him.

“Hell, kid. Grab an apple too. Geez.”

Denzel flips me off, rolls his eyes at me, and angles back toward Hector and whatever he’s watching on his phone.

“He told you.” Bentley passes me a sandwich with a smirk and indicates he’s heading toward one of the large trees offering shade. I have no clue what type of tree it is. Bentley did tell me, but retaining tree names isn’t easy.

Hell, add in Latin names and it’s even more confusing.

I bob my head, swipe a couple of bottles of water, and settle next to him, my ass landing on the soft grass.

“It’s always entertaining when I hear you offering nutritional advice.” Bentley smirks before taking a large bite of his sandwich. A groan of satisfaction spills out of him, and I take too much delight not only in the sound but that I made the chicken salad sandwiches this morning.

“You need me to leave you alone with that sandwich?” I tease.

His gaze snaps to mine, a soft pink appearing in his cheeks. A chuckle follows before he shrugs. “Hey, it’s a good sandwich, and I’m seriously hungry.” His eyes all but twinkle as he arches a brow at me.

I hold back my remark that I’ll make him all the sandwiches he wants if he continues to make that noise. Instead, I focus on his teasing me about my adventurous palate.

Adventurous palate. I barely hold back my snort of amusement. Truth is, half the weird combos I try are for shits and giggles. It’s just luck that some of them taste fucking delicious. “I swear, there’ll be a day when you’ll mourn the loss of my cooking. You’ll be pleading with me to never leave your kitchen.”

Bentley chuckles even as the red on his skin deepens. I ignore the reason why that may be and focus on the sound of his laugh. It’s a good laugh. Deep and quiet, it manages to soothe any trace of heaviness that may be sitting on my chest. It does every damn time.

“Peanut butter and pickles.” His lips twitch. “I can safely say I’m not going to be chaining you to my kitchen if that’s on the menu.”

I cringe at the mention of that combination. It absolutely did not work. “That was an unfortunate sandwich, I’ll admit. However, I’ve been thinking of something new that’ll blow your mind.”

Bentley raises his brow skeptically even as curiosity and amusement gleam in his eyes. “All right, I’ll bite. Hit me with it.”

Grinning triumphantly, I tug my cell out and open it. The recipe, a legit one with instructions, is one I stumbled upon when looking for things to do in San Antonio. How I ended up on the blog, I have no idea. I bookmarked the shit out of the page, though.

“Banana and bacon delight.” I hold my phone out so we can both stare down at the photo. To be fair, the lighting isn’t great, and it looks like a lot of mush, but I like both bacon and bananas, so why the hell wouldn’t it taste awesome?

His smirk falters, a look of mild horror quickly replacing it. “Banana and bacon? Are you serious?” He doesn’t wait for me to respond as he shakes his head and says, “Hell no.”

Undeterred, I nod. “Trust me on this. Apparently, it’s a ‘flavor sensation unlike anything you’ve ever tasted.’”

Bentley sighs, and I know I’ve got him as he takes another bite of his sandwich before gesturing for me to continue.

“Okay, so we fry up bacon and make it extra crispy.” Just the thought makes me salivate. “Then we slice up the banana and?—”

“Please don’t tell me you fry the banana in bacon fat.”

“Nope. Fresh out of the skin. You see? Nutritious. You simply stack the bacon and banana. The blog suggests drizzling it with maple syrup.”

His expression shifts from horror to mild curiosity. I so have him hooked, and he’ll definitely try it.

“Maple syrup?”

I nod.

“Okay, that doesn’t sound so bad.” He narrows his gaze as he unscrews the lid of his water bottle. “If I try it and it’s as godawful as the ranch dressing on watermelon, I’m not responsible for the consequences.”

That is not the threat he thinks it is. A thrill shoots through me instead. Rather than respond and the possible shake in my voice give me away, I simply laugh before finishing my food.

We’ve still got an afternoon of work to get through before we can kick back with a few beers. You never know, at the end of the night, I might see if I can sweet-talk him with banana and bacon and steal a kiss.