Page 28 of The Beat Match

“Yet, I’m the one relaxed in this fine establishment.” He placed his phone on the table and stretched his arm along the top of the booth, oblivious of the dirty napkin he was about to hit. The second his fingers brushed it, he snarled and snapped his hand back.

“Yeah, you seem really relaxed.” She grabbed a fresh napkin, wiped ketchup off her bench seat, then slid in.

Wes picked up a beer list and flicked the paper’s edge.

She tucked her hands under her thighs. “If you touch your mouth after touching that, you’ll probably get gonorrhea.”

Eyes bright, he laughed.

She used to make a game of it. The Make Weston Laugh game. Subtle jokes. Well-placed sarcasm. Coaxing a grin onto his stoic face had always given her a swell of pride. Tonight his laugh had a different effect. That strong chin, those sharp cheekbones and styled hair, his blue eyes and all that physique packed into tailored clothing—his level of handsome was giving her hot flashes, and his smile only upped his masculine appeal.

She’d tried to deny her recent growing interest in him, hide from it. Pretend it wasn’t happening. This was Wes, after all. The guy who drove her extra-special batty. But there was no hiding from one startling fact: every time she relived her Falcon kiss, she ended up picturing Wes. She’d avoided him as best she could since. Tried her darndest to feel annoyance over attraction. But when she’d googled him this week, eager to cut his infuriatingly handsome face from a printout and create a new page in her Weston Aldrich scrapbook, she’d seen a picture of him with the stunning Rosanna Farzad, and her chest had ached.

A waitress came by to take their drink order.

“So,” Wes said when she left, “you’ve been okay today?”

She’d have been better if they’d hung out as usual, silent about all things Leo, while still supporting each other. These new feelings complicated matters, especially since he’d been dating publicly, an anomaly for him. Wes bringing today’s history up was also new. “Okay enough. It’s always hard, but I think the lead up is worse.”

“How do you mean?”

She was tired of rehashing things in her mind. She wanted to go to sleep and wake up tomorrow. Have this day, this week, this year be over. “I hate talking about it,” she said.

“You and me both.”

“I hate admitting he’s gone.” And showing her weakness. So why was she opening up now?

He nodded, the beer list forgotten. “I hate acknowledging what he’s missed out on, even movies and TV shows he would have loved. I hate that I…” He glanced down and scratched his nose.

She pointed to his face. “Felix had that same twitchy look. I guess the whole ‘owners look like their pets’ thing is true. Except for the dainty hands. Felix has more masculine hands.”

There was that smile again. “If I looked like an animal, it would be a jaguar, Squirrel.”

“What the hell’s a jaguar-squirrel? I told you to quit the animal experimentation.”

This laugh was louder. So damn sexy with his neck stretched and head tipped back. “If anything, we should experiment on your brain. Figure out why you’re obsessed with animal mutations. Is it a bestiality thing?”

She cringed. “You crossed a line, Herbert. And how’s Felix, anyway? Back with his rightful owner?”

Wes tapped his thumb on the table. He scratched his nose again and mumbled something under his breath.

“Sorry, my bionic hearing’s on the fritz. Please speak at human volume.”

“I kept him.”

Her hearing was definitely off. “You kept the emotionally stunted rabbit-squirrel?”

“I had no choice. He’s happier at my place.”

Her cackle had heads whipping their way. Wes had always held a hard line against owning pets or plants or anything that took long-term care. She had no clue what had prompted the bunny adoption, but she imagined doing a new scrapbook page, with him feeding Felix from a bottle. “I should throw you a bunny shower. You can register at bunny babies.”

He glared. She grinned.

Making fun of Wes was way better than rehashing how she’d flipped through Leo’s old Batman comics this week and had found herself crying. She’d alternated between reliving her fading memories and blaring music in her quiet apartment, noise to drown her sad thoughts. But she hadn’t been lying to Wes, either. She was okay enough today. Happy the date was almost behind her. Pushing through hardships was her normal.

Looking at Wes across from her, imagining straddling his lap and ripping those designer buttons from his perfectly ironed shirt, was definitely not normal.

The waitress brought their drinks. Wes sipped his beer. She guzzled her wine.