The Wrong Man (8 page)

The Garden was a cute bistro with a large patio area. There was a pretty stone fireplace situated against an ivy covered wall, and fairy lights were strung in a crisscross fashion over the linen-clothed tables. People didn’t generally bring their pets to restaurants like this, but I’d pleaded with the owner, who was a friend and client of mine, and had requested a somewhat private corner table so Mack’s presence wouldn’t distract other diners. Without a dog, it spelled romantic table for two. Great.

I sipped the ice water the server poured and checked out the wine selection. Red or white, I didn’t care. I just needed a glass fast.

“Mind if I order a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon for us?” Jake set the wine menu aside and peered across the tiny table at me. There was a mini succulent plant and a single votive between us, which wouldn’t leave much room for two plates when dinner arrived.

“Sure. That’s fine.”

Once our wine order was placed and the waiter had recited the evening’s specialties, we quietly perused the menu. I wasn’t one to let uncomfortable silences linger, but I was at a loss. I hadn’t planned on dining with Jake Westley by candlelight tonight. I’d counted on that damn dog to keep things casual and lighthearted. When the waiter returned with the bottle Jake ordered, I watched as he swirled, sniffed, and tasted before declaring the wine worthy. I rolled my eyes once my glass was full. Jake laughed and held his up in a toast.

“Wine should be taken seriously. There’s nothing worse than drinking crap you pay a lot of money for. Cheers.” He clinked his glass against mine and took a long sip. An almost blissful expression crossed his face, indicating the wine he’d ordered was indeed not crap. I took a small sip and felt my shoulders relax slightly. I wasn’t picky about my wine, but even I could tell this was quality stuff.

“You’re into wine?”

“Yes. I love it. I should have been a vintner.” He chuckled lightly and set his glass down.

“How’d you become a firefighter? It’s been a while, but I thought you were going into finance, like your dad.”

I bit my cheek hard, immediately pissed at myself for bringing up the past. From the moment we were seated in our romantic hideaway, I’d been wracking my brain for conversational tidbits to keep from reminiscing about high school glory days. Letting him know I remembered his past career goals was not a smart move. When he didn’t answer, I looked up, hoping he hadn’t heard me. He tilted his head to the side and gave me a sad smile.

“Things changed. I don’t have a family anymore, Bran.”

Don’t ask. Don’t ask. Don’t ask.

“What happened?” I heard someone who sounded a lot like me ask.

Jake pursed his lips together thoughtfully and picked up his glass, swirling the contents lazily. I was convinced he wasn’t going to answer my question when he finally spoke.

“I came out and got kicked out when I was nineteen. It was ugly. I didn’t know how to survive at first. I had a hard time coming to terms with being cut off from what I thought was a loving family.” He gave a humorless snort and set his wine aside. “Mentally, physically, financially… I was a mess.”

“I’m sor—”

“Don’t be. I told you I’d been through my share of less-than-ideal times. It sucked. But it happened a long time ago—” He let out a burst of laughter that had me squinting at him in concern.

“You unraveling?” I asked in a theatrically low tone. I widened my eyes comically and was relieved when he chuckled less maniacally.

“No. I unraveled and re-raveled years ago. I’m relatively sane nowadays.”

His grin was self-depreciating and fucking adorable. I returned his smile but fidgeted when the moment took on a charged quality. Thankfully, our waiter came by to take our order and save the exchange from becoming awkward.

“You like veal?” I asked incredulously when the waiter left us with a promise to return with fresh bread.

“Sure. Does your ‘that’s yucky’ face mean you don’t want a bite?”

“My ‘yucky fa—’ You’re hysterical, and no, I do not want a bite! That
is
vile. Eating a cute lit—”

“Shh. Let’s not go there. You’d probably make a pet out of a Thanksgiving turkey, Bran. Will you feel better if I tell you I eat more vegetables and pasta than meat?”

“Slightly better. I’m not a vegetarian, but I honestly think I could be. And you’re right about the turkey. I would save the poor bird if I could. I am all about the trimmings, not the turkey. Bring on the stuffing, cranberries, and green beans with a twist, and I’m happy as can be.”

“A twist?”

“Yes, I’m not fond of traditional recipes. Or traditional anything, really.”

“Do you cook?”

“A little. I like having small dinner parties and trying new recipes. Nothing fancy. Do you?” I took a sip of wine, pleased we’d skirted the potentially strained dysfunctional family topic. I could happily chat about food and entertaining all night.

“Yes. We take turns at the station. When you’re cooking for a crowd, pasta is the most efficient way to please the masses.”

“How
did
you become a firefighter?” So much for skirting the awkward. I was too curious to be annoyed with myself though. And the wine had loosened my lips. “Do you like it? How long have you been one? Do they know you’re gay? Are you out to the general public? My curiosity is piqued.”

Jake chuckled, his pretty eyes crinkling at the corners. He raised his brows expressively before speaking.

“O-kay. When I was twenty-one, I was in an accident and uh… that’s not important. I met this firefighter who… whatever. He was ten years older than me, confident and had his shit together. He suggested I think about getting my EMT certification and go into paramedics or firefighting, and I listened. Honestly, if he’d told me robbing banks wasn’t such a bad gig, I may have gone along with him. I was a little infatuated and hell, it was the first time anyone had given a shit about my future in a while. So I went for it. It’s hard work and long hours, but yeah, I love it. I love the camaraderie. In a way, the guys you work with become family. I was with the Oxnard fire department for six years, and I’ve been here for six months.”

His gaze became somewhat intense when he continued. “And yes, I’m out. I’ll never lie again about who I am to please anyone. Period. Not everyone will accept me but that’s their problem. Not mine. Case in point, my family. I figured out the hard way it’s better to be real. Duplicity isn’t my style.”

“Hmm. Listen, I’m usually good at sugarcoating, but I don’t know how to be delicate here, so I’m just going to ask all the questions I promised myself I wouldn’t. Ready?”

Instead of being put off by my curve-ball statement, Jake laughed again and leaned forward. “Ready.”

“If the people you worked with were like family to you, why did you move to West Hollywood? And how about Mack? How does he fit in?”

This time he wasn’t so quick to answer. He sat back again and studied me for a long minute before shifting forward and picking up his wineglass. It was funny to notice quirks in his mannerisms that reminded me of the boy I’d known so long ago. He’d had a habit in high school when deep in thought of leaning back in his chair far enough that the front two legs would be in the air. Once he’d solved whatever problem was in his head, he’d crash the front part of the chair down and lean forward with his elbows on the table. Then he’d give me an answer with a devilish grin and tell me to meet him in the bathroom in five minutes. Whatever he’d suggested then, I was usually game. I’d been hypnotized by the extraordinarily good-looking jock who’d inexplicably had a thing for me.

Jake licked his lips and took a small drink before setting the glass down.

“I needed a change of scenery. When my ex and I split, it was amicable, but it was seeping into my life. Making things uncomfortable. I have a great set of friends in Oxnard, and I hated leaving them but it was time for a change.”

“And Mack?”

Jake smiled widely. “He’s my best friend. As long as he’s with me, I’ve got what I need. A loyal companion with an easy temperament and a kind soul. He likes me the way I am, no matter what, and no questions asked. He was collateral in my breakup with Derek, but he was always mine really. I know Derek loved him too, in his own way, but—” He picked up the glass again. “He was always too busy for him, and he wasn’t willing to care for Mack when he got sick. He was quick to let go. In more ways than one I guess.”

“You mean he wanted….”

“To put him down.”

I gasped. “That’s awful!”

“Well, yes and no. I mean, it was weird because we were already broken up when Mack got sick. But we shared him. When I worked a long shift, I would leave him with Derek. Otherwise Mack was with me. Unfortunately he lost bladder control on Derek’s watch, and his new guy had a fucking fit. Mack got sick fast, and he was twelve. That’s a long life for a big dog. If a dog is miserable and sick, it’s inhumane to keep him alive. I get that. But Mack wasn’t done living. I knew it. I fought for him, agreed to take care of all the vet expenses, and ultimately got Derek to agree to give me full custody.” He shook his head and gave me a wry smile. “Fuck, I sound like I’m talking about a kid. Bottom line is I stayed in Oxnard longer than I should have. I had a great life for a while there. A good job, a cool house, a man I thought I’d be with for the long run, and a sweet, loyal dog. When things with the man went sideways, at least I had Mack and a job I liked. The problem was having ties and connections to a man I didn’t want to be around and hated running
into in town. I needed a change. So when the West Hollywood department had an opening, I jumped at it. The people here have been terrific. It’s early days, and I’m the new guy. They don’t really know me yet, but hey, I’ve got a cool dog.” He gave me a smug grin, inviting me to laugh at his oversimplified version of “fitting in.”

I giggled appreciatively. “Yes, you do. He’s a charmer.”

“What about you?”

“I am too.”

“‘You are too’ what?” His brow was furrowed in query.

“Charming! Are you purposefully obtuse or just slow on the uptake?” I scowled as Jake chuckled merrily.

“Sorry. Obtuse or slow, take your pick. Both work, I guess. Obviously you’re exceedingly charming.” I gulped at the heat I saw in his gaze. “I meant—”

He paused when the server approached the table with our dinners. I was glad for the interruption. Jake’s ability to go from boy next door to something much sexier was disconcerting. When we were alone again, Jake looked across the table at me and raised his wineglass.

“Bon appétit. Sure you don’t want a bite?” He waggled his eyebrows playfully.

“I’ll pass.”

We ate in companionable silence for a bit. I took the opportunity to drink in the romantic atmosphere and listen to the soft conversations around me. The tinkling sound of silverware and glasses mingled with couples chatting in hushed tones. I caught Jake staring at me and gave an embarrassed half-grin.

“Your turn. What have you been up to over the past decade or so?”

His lighthearted inquiry felt like an unexpected splash of cold water. I felt immediately, unreasonably defensive.

“Nothing much,” I replied offhandedly in a somewhat bored tone. “I went to college for fashion design and adjusted course to interiors when one of my instructors suggested my proclivity for reorganizing the break room furniture indicated my talents laid elsewhere. I interned for a couple of high-profile designers and began building my own clientele. Eventually I saved enough to open a small boutique on La Cienega. Before the economy tanked, I opened BGoods on Melrose too. Within a year it was obvious I couldn’t afford both spaces in a recession. I took a risk in keeping the Melrose location. It’s higher rent and a better location but let’s face it, while I view interior design as a crucial form of ‘art meets function,’ others tend to see it as a luxury. A nice to have, not a need to have. Thankfully, things seem to be slowly turning around.”

“Impressive.” He must have seen something akin to mistrust in my expression. “I’m serious. You’re not even thirty, and you’re a business owner in a very exclusive area. Do you design houses too, or just supply the goods?”

I gave him a lopsided smile and took a sip of wine. “Both. We offer design services. I have some fabulous employees who happen to be talented designers as well an—oh fuck.”

Heat instantly flooded my cheeks as I caught sight of a familiar figure being led to a cozy table for two adjacent to ours. This could not be happening.

There were a ton of amazing restaurants in this town. How could it be possible my most recent ex would be seated next to my first ex and me in a setting that screamed romance? For someone who prided himself on living in the present, I was suddenly and unceremoniously thrust into a strange type of hell where my past was coming at me in stereo.

“What’s wrong?” Jake leaned forward, looking concerned by my panicky shift in temperament.

“Shh. Please follow my lead. I’ll explain later. Make it good, and Mack can be my store’s mascot whenever you need a dog sitter.” I licked my bottom lip and scooted my chair closer to Jake’s while madly trying to formulate a plan. Our knees collided under the table but we still weren’t close enough. I leaned in and brushed against his elbow placing my right hand over his left.

“What are you—”

“Just shut up and kiss me.” I growled under my breath.

Jake studied me for a half second before he closed the remaining distance between us and fused his mouth over mine. I don’t know what I was thinking. The surreal circumstances must have prompted a bout of insanity. There was no other explanation. Trevor didn’t mean anything to me. Madness was my only plea.

To make matters worse, I grossly miscalculated what it would feel like to be kissed by Jake Westley for the first time in twelve years. It felt amazing and… right. Like a puzzle piece I’d forgotten I was looking for had finally clicked into place. His lips molded over mine, and when I felt his tongue gently probe, I briefly let him inside. The whisper-light caress of his hand on my cheek brought me back to reality. My eyes flew open as I pulled back. What the fuck had I been thinking?