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She giggled softly. “How long have you worked here?” she repeated, emphasizing each word.

“Three years.”

“You like it? You must.”

“Miss Dulcie is a good and fair boss.”

“Where’d you work before you came here?”

Westin dropped his head, finding it almost impossible to think while she was looking at him with that little smile on her pretty lips. He pushed his hands deeper in his pockets, that ache still burning through him. “Why do you want to know about me?”

“I’m curious.”

He shook his head. “My story isn’t that interesting.”

“Maybe to you, but I’m dying to hear all about it.”

He couldn’t help but lift his eyes to her in that moment. That smile was still on her lips, but there was something new in her eyes. He couldn’t tell if she was truly just interested, or if there was more going on here. He suspected she wasn’t being completely honest about Fang, her supposed ex, and something about that phone call she’d made left him a little nervous, for reasons he couldn’t quite describe. But this new look in her eyes felt genuine, like the first truly authentic thing she’d shown him all day.

“I worked in Texas. In the oil fields.”

“Really? That’s rough work.”

“No rougher than the ranch.”

She sat up a little straighter, curling her legs in front of her. “What brought you to Colorado?”

“I was born and raised in Denver. My mother passed, so I came back to deal with that, and when that was finished, I heard about the position up here, and thought it would be a good place to settle.”

“Just like that?”

Westin rolled his shoulders. It wasn’t a simple decision, and it hadn’t been as random as he implied. In fact, his position here had been very calculated, but he wasn’t going to tell her that. There were some things that even her pretty smile wasn’t going to get out of him.

“Where are you from?” he asked her.

“Originally?” She leaned back, running a hand over her face. “I’m originally from California. My dad still lives there.”

“Where do you call home now?”

“That’s a good question.” Now it was her turn to evade questions. She rubbed her cheek again, her eyes moving up to the ceiling like she was looking for a lie up there. “I move around a lot. For work.”

“What kind of work?”

“Chemistry,” she said with something like a chuckle, the amusement reaching all the way up to her eyes, making the gold in them sparkle. “I work in labs, mostly.”

“Doing what?”

“Pharmaceuticals.”

“You make drugs?”

She nodded. “Mostly. Medical grade. Nothing illegal.”

“And that causes you to move around a lot?”

“What can I say?” She flipped her hand in the air, like she was powerless to change her circumstances. “I’m in high demand with some of the top companies around the country.”

“You must make good money.”