Page 15

Once we were in my apartment, I went to the kitchen to wash my hands. “You want some water?”

Weston nodded, so I pulled the pitcher from the fridge and grabbed two glasses from the shelf, filling them. I poured one for me and one for West. I slid his across the island and drank mine.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” West stared at me for a long moment.

I had no idea what was going to come out of his mouth. “Of course.”

“I’ve been researching stuff about long-distance bike treks. I’ve looked at necessary equipment for one thing, and I’ve accumulated a shopping basket on a sporting goods website of things I’ll need that’s about eleven hundred bucks to buy. What I can’t figure out is about the places to sleep. I don’t want to sleep in a tent or a bivy sack. After being on a bike for seven hours a day, I can’t imagine sleeping on the ground.” His sincere grin was adorable.

I bit my tongue to keep from quizzing him. “I’d bet not. So, how many miles are you up to with your job?”

“I’m up to twenty-five miles a day, but I’ve told my boss I’m ready for longer distance jobs. She agreed.”

After turning the oven to preheat, I went to the fridge and grabbed two beers, placing one in front of West. Thankfully, it was exactly what I hoped he’d figure out. “So, what do you think might be the best solution to the sleeping issue you’ll have on the road?”

“I’m not exactly sure. That’s why I’m here asking your thoughts.”

Sipping my beer, I stared at that sexy guy. My heart yearned for him, and it was completely wrong. I’d watched him grow up over the years. The man he was now wasn’t who I was prepared to encounter.

“Okay, show me your shopping list, Weston. What do you think you need?”

The question was more loaded than just a list of necessities for the bike ride. I hoped he didn’t think I sounded high handed. I didn’t dwell on what I was really asking him. I was trying to maintain a professional distance, but I was failing miserably.

West produced his phone and handed it to me with the screen unlocked. I scrolled through his basket of possibilities, smiling. I wasn’t surprised at what I saw.

“Okay, this is good. There are a few things we can lose. We can buy you a water bottle that fits on the frame of your bike, and you can refill it with filtered water or sports drinks. Or you can ditch this high-end hydration backpack in favor of a cheaper one. You won’t need the urine purification tablets. I don’t think you’ll need to drink your own urine.” I wanted to laugh, but I could see he was trying to plan every contingency, so he wouldn’t appreciate my joke. I’d never try to humiliate him.

“I read an article that said it might be an option if I was in an area where there wasn’t access to clean drinking water. I mean, I should be prepared, right?”

Thankfully, the timer on the stove went off, so I held up my finger and pulled the enchiladas from the oven. The cheese on top was bubbling and the smell was incredible.

I placed the baking dish on a trivet to cool a bit so we didn’t scald our mouths and got each of us another beer. “You don’t need to drink your own urine, West. Bottles of water can be packed into a camper. There’s no need to go to extremes.” The laugh came out without my bidding.

“Yeah, but I don’t have a camper, Bridges. Campers are like way out of my price range.”

“Well, uh, you’re in luck. I happen to have a camper in storage that I’d be happy to loan you for your trip. I used it back in my racing days, and I couldn’t bear to part with it. You’ll just need to find a driver to accompany you.”

I held my tongue after offering my vehicle, not ready to offer my services, but if Weston ever asked me to be his support system, I knew in my gut I wouldn’t refuse him.

“That’s kind of you, but I insist on paying for the use of it. How much can I rent it for? I’m trying to create a budget.” He had a pen and paper in his hand as he awaited my response.

I nodded. “You’re going to need donors to support your cause. I’ll donate the use of my camper which will equal about fifteen-hundred dollars for the forty days it will take you to travel across the country. The trip will total about five grand if it’s planned right. If you don’t have the money to fund it yourself, you’ll need to find donors.”

Hell, I’d have given him the total amount to fund his trip if he’d asked, but Weston reminded me of myself when I was his age. I needed someone to teach me how to make my own way in the world. He needed someone to help him navigate different situations and come to reasonable solutions, just like his father helped me learn to do. I wasn’t going to criticize or make it easy for him to skate through life with his mother making all of his decisions for him. I knew he was at an important crossroads. I refused to take away his choices, but I hoped he learned how to rely on himself the same as Claude taught me.

“Donors? Like, get people to donate money for me to make the trip? How do I ask people to donate money to the poor little rich boy? I’m donating a large sum to an LGBTQIA+ charity when I get back my trust fund. How can I ask people to give me money to do it?”

I lifted an eyebrow at him and smirked. “That’s a question you need to answer for yourself. Doesn’t one deed feed the other?”

Weston glanced at the floor before he met my eyes. “Why on earth would you loan me your camper and give me any help?”

I sucked in a breath as I stood from my kitchen table and grabbed plates, knives, forks, and napkins. After placing them in front of us, I sat down and dished each of us a serving. I slid three chicken enchiladas on his plate and did the same for myself.

“Dig in.” I needed a minute to figure out how to answer his question. Why would I invest in Weston? it wasn’t a bad question to ask.

As I hoped, West dug into his food without additional prompting, cutting off the end of the chicken enchilada and dragging it through the Chile Verde sauce. He took a bite, and his hum of approval made me smile.

“So, let’s talk about the rest of this list,” I suggested as we continued to eat.