Page 12 of Irreconcilable Attractions (Westwend Boys #1)
“You’re the lawyer!” She gasped, loudly. A few people sitting near the counter turned toward us. “Oh my gosh! He left out how hot you are when he told me about you! ”
I let out another nervous chuckle before sending apologetic smiles to the customers around us.
“Yeah, the lawyer,” I murmured. “Is he around?”
“Oh, yeah! I’ll grab him. Do you want something to drink while you wait?”
I nodded, appreciative of the segue into neutral territory, and ordered a London Fog along with a sandwich the menu called a ‘Brie Mine’. It was touted as being satisfyingly fancy with thick-sliced ham, melted brie, fig jam, and arugula on toasted sourdough.
Chris flitted off once I’d paid, presumably to get my order ready and grab Colton, while I found my way into a seat near a window in the back.
The view of the clear blue river with massive trees overarching it definitely wasn’t hard to look at.
The building was sitting on prime real estate, which had me once again wondering how Colton had managed to pull all this off.
I was scrolling on my phone a little bit later when a plate was set down before me on the table. Lifting my gaze, I found Colton grinning smugly, my drink being offered to me like a consolation prize for a bet I hadn’t known I’d lost.
“Missed me so much already that you’re playing hooky?” He tutted, shaking his head. “You just started, Derek.”
I took the warm drink, rolling my eyes. “Just couldn’t stay away, my dear.”
Colton slid into the chair across from me. “Well, welcome to my second mortgage.” He spread his arms wide.
“Yeah, I was wondering how you could afford all this.” I took a bite of the sandwich, a groan escaping me before I could stop it.
Colton looked like the cat who ate the canary. “Say it louder for the people in the back.”
I gave a short laugh, scooping the jam I could feel at the corner of my mouth with my thumb.
“Don’t flatter yourself. I didn’t eat lunch. At this point, anything above McDonald's would send me to heaven.” I licked my finger, fully aware it wasn’t the most elegant move, but hunger trumped manners right now.
Colton’s gaze flicked to my mouth before meeting my eyes, his brow furrowing. “You missed lunch? Is Dad working you that hard already?”
I glanced at him, shaking my head, before leaning in for another bite. “Nah, just trying to get the lay of the land. Skipped lunch on accident.”
That answer didn’t seem to appease Colton as his face twisted up, but instead of lecturing me he just sighed.
“Well, I’m off in a little bit. We can go get dinner if you’re still hungry after that.” He motioned toward my mostly consumed sandwich.
“When do you get off?” I asked, shooting a quick glance at the watch on my wrist. It was nearly five o’clock.
“In thirty minutes,” he replied.
“Oh, yeah. I’ll be hungry again by then.” I leaned back, taking a sip of my drink and savoring the sweet undertones.
“Cool.” He rapped his knuckles against the table lightly as he stood. “Let me know if you need anything.”
I watched him make his way back to the counter before trading off with Chris at the register. Taking another sip of my drink, I let my mind wander as I continued to follow Colton with my eyes as he finished out his shift.
I still couldn’t believe he had come out to me—someone he’d basically just met.
The memory of the smile he wore when he told me came drifting back. How the corners of his eyes had crinkled despite his grin feeling just a little too practiced. Something had been swimming behind those green orbs, too. Something that had looked suspiciously like steeling oneself.
Colton hadn’t struck me as someone that liked men.
I mean, I knew you couldn’t tell just by looking at someone…
or at least you shouldn’t assume. But, my exposure to the gay co mmunity had been limited.
I had heard my fair share of gay slurs thrown around in locker rooms, though.
I chewed on the inside of my cheek. Had Colton had people talk to him like that?
I couldn’t imagine how it’d feel to know they were speaking about you when those words came up.
And the hostility that some people expressed toward that community?
It made staying closeted so understandable—especially in a state like Texas.
The more I thought about it, the more in awe of Colton I was. Would I be able to be that open and proud if I were in his shoes? Would I really say I was into men, out loud, especially if I knew I was also into women?
Sucking in a sharp breath, I shook my head. No point in stressing about it, given I was straight.
The rest of Colton’s shift, I watched him manage the counter.
Greeting customers, making drinks, bouncing back and forth through the swinging door to the kitchen.
His smile was bright but it was the one he reserved for customers.
I didn’t know how I knew that, but I did. His real smile was different.
When a lanky guy with a mess of platinum blond curls came into the cafe and swapped out with Colton, I gathered my things to leave. He met me by the door, and as we walked out of the cafe together, the early evening sun hit us with full force. Colton groaned dramatically.
“Ugh, why is the sun louder this late in the day?” he muttered, shielding his eyes like he just stumbled out of a bunker.
I shook my head, letting out a huff of amusement.
“So,” he said, squinting at me as we made our way toward the parking lot, “what sounds good for dinner?”
I glanced over. “Something home-cooked.”
He scoffed. “Damn, I know you want me barefoot and pregnant, but despite my obvious homemaker vibes, I don’t like to cook. ”
I rolled my eyes. “You expect me to believe that when you run a cafe?”
He shook his head. “I’m serious. Chris is the one who comes up with our food menu. I’m your run-of-the-mill barista. I just follow the recipe.”
“Well, lucky for you then, I’d always planned to be the one to cook.”
He perked up instantly.
“Well, butter my butt and call me a biscuit. Really? ” He chirped in an overly exaggerated Southern drawl.
I couldn’t help the smile that tugged at my lips.
“Yeah. Let’s go home.”
He looked at me for a moment, those green eyes of his bouncing over my features but his smile never faded. Until it bloomed into a full-on grin—a real smile.
“Yeah. Home.” Then turned and jogged off to his truck.
Later, when we were both back at the house, I stood over the stove while Colton hovered nearby. He leaned against the counter, watching me as I prepped the sauce for our pasta.
“Okay but, like, real talk? If you keep cooking for me like this, I’m going to be devastated when you move out.”
I gave him a pointed side-eye. “Devastated?”
“Like the sad Spotify playlists and dramatic sighs kind of devastated.”
I rolled my eyes and headed to the fridge for the block of cheese I needed. “Well, I don’t mind cooking when you get off work early. But try not to die of a broken heart when I’m gone.”
Colton snorted. “Too late. My ghost’s gonna haunt this place till someone else moves in who can make me food like you.”
“Get therapy.” I quipped, chuckling.
He grinned, but it quickly dropped the second the sharp scent of the cheese hit the air. Colton leaned in and grimaced. “Dude… is that cheese even edible? It stinks.”
I glanced up from the grater, clearly amused. “It’s Pecorino Romano. It’s supposed to smell like that.”
Colton squinted like the cheese had insulted him. “You sure? It smells like used gym socks and regret.”
“It’s a hard, salty cheese. Not the kind you eat plain. I’m going to mix itwith butter and pepper to put over the pasta. It melts down beautifully and makes magic.”
Colton paused, blinking slowly. “Ah. Not snacking cheese.”
“Definitely not.”
A beat.
“That makes… so much sense now,” Colton muttered under his breath.
I raised an eyebrow. “What does?”
He waved me off quickly, walking away from the counter. “Nothing. Just… glad you know what you’re doing.”
Once the pasta was done, I mixed everything together.
There weren’t many ingredients, but the smell that floated on the air around us was divine.
The cheese and pepper melded together into a creamy sauce that somehow felt both fancy and soul-hugging.
I swirled the mixture into bowls, topping both spirals with a poached egg.
Done.
Setting our dinner down on the table, I couldn’t help but notice how out-of-place the meal looked inside the mismatched ceramics. Yet, somehow… it fit us.
We chatted casually over the meal, swapping stories and jabs between bites, and by the time the food was gone, we’d already made plans to run it back on the basketball court soon, just to ‘settle the score’ as Colton dramatically put it.
It was easy. Comfortable.
And as we rinsed our dishes and moved through the kitchen as if we’d done it a hundred times, I realized this didn’t feel like playing house.
It just felt like home.