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I dragged myself out of my reverie. "It's really good. How did you learn to cook? Did your grandma sit you down and show you how to do everything?"
He laughed. "Nope. She’s not really the type. She likes to gamble. Drink. ButherNana had these great handwritten recipebooks, so we read them together and I tried the recipes out on her."
"Oh my God, how old were you?"
He laughed. "Let's just say I was a precocious one."
"One?" I was convinced he was full of shit.
"Like I said, I was precocious."
“Okay…”
That was the thing about Westin, you never quite knew when you were getting the truth.
But his sauce was to die for, so that much was true. He could really cook. He wasn’t lying about that, but I could see it. That thin line of deception, that marker where people put their pasts and things they didn't want people to see.
"So, you and Saint,” he said. “I get the feeling I'm stepping on his toes."
I hadn't expected him to be so direct. "No. Not at all. We're not… we're not real."
He gave me a soft smile. "Honestly, I would have been on shift tonight anyway, and figured I would make you a meal. But I wanted to test the waters when I asked you out."
"Oh, you could have just said so."
"Yeah, you're right. I could have. But it's more interesting watching your brain try and talk yourself out of being completely into Saint."
"I'm not completely into him. He is stubborn. Taciturn. What the hell is wrong with him? He never says anything. Keeps everything close to the vest. And he's bossy. Soooo bossy. What the fuck? I don't think I've ever met a man that bossy. And he's moody. I never know what I'm going to get."
Westin laughed. "He's also one of the best blokes I ever met."
"How long have you been working for him?"
"Not long. It was only in the last year that we've gotten to know each other better. He's actually not a bad mentor. Andwhat he's like now, that's new. He's not usually like this. He smiles a lot more. Smiles easily. He'll be the first one with a joke. But he's got family stuff that has overloaded him recently."
"That doesn't even sound like the same man I know."
Westin shrugged. "If you do have some feelings for him, I'd say be a little patient. Your whole life is just getting back to even, and his isn’t. He's been in turmoil for a long time. You guys would understand each other, and I think—"
The front door opened then, andSaint marched through. He gave a nod to me and a scowl to Westin, but that was it. He didn't interrupt us, didn't say anything.
I frowned at Westin. "Are you trying to convince me that he's affable, funny, kind, warm?"
He nodded. "Yeah, under normal circumstances he is. Right now, his jealousy is eating at him. He's stressed out with whatever is going on at work and all that family drama with his old man."
We moved onto other topics, and conversation with Westin was easy. We had so much in common. It was like finding your long lost friend after years of separation.
After I helped him clean up the dinner dishes, we ended up back in the living room listening to some music and track combos a friend of his had made. "Oh wow, he's really good."
"Yeah. He DJ’d one summer in Ibiza. That kid is wild. He started at fifteen, and wowed the organizers when he was nineteen. They gave him anything he wanted.
"How the hell did a nineteen-year-old pull that off?”
“He's tall, looks the part, and he’s one hell of a liar."
I shook my head laughing. "Oh my God. Did you go with him?"
Westin blushed then. "Um, you could say that."
