Page 47 of All Your Firsts Without Me

I nod and follow her outside with the salad.

Westin gives Bev a kiss on the cheek in greeting as she sets the bowl she’s carrying on the table.

“Beverly, it’s so nice to see you again,” he says, his boyish charm on full display.

She gives him a quick peck and then excuses herself inside to grab the rolls.

Westin’s gaze travels to me as a slow smile pulls at the corner of his mouth. A cute little dimple pierces his cheek. “April,” he nods, tipping his beer at me.

“Westin,” I say, dipping my head and blushing.

Giles watches us intensely. He breaks the silence that follows, “I think these are about done, honey. You got some place for me to put them?”

“Shoot, yeah, just a second.” I dash back into the house to grab a platter.

Lucky is whining at my bedroom door. I wasn’t sure if Giles and Bev would like a dog pestering them, so I locked her in my room. Her cries are making me feel incredibly guilty though.

“You got a dog?” Bev asks as she picks up her glass and the dish of homemade dinner rolls.

“Yeah, I usually let her roam the house but since I had guests…”

“Lord, don’t worry about us. Go let your pup out. She won’t bother us one bit.”

The rest of dinner goes smoothly. We talk about so many things. The vacation that Giles and Bev are taking to Alaska. The new song Westin is working on for a big-name artist. I even talk a bit about Lucky. But we don’t talk about him. Once dinner is done, we clean up and move inside. The wind is a bit chilly tonight.

We have desert and a few more drinks before Giles and Bev announce they are going to call it an evening. I jump to my feet. “Oh, are you sure you can’t stay a little longer?” I ask, suddenly nervous to be alone with Westin.

“Sorry, honey, I’ve got to go into the office in the morning. I’m helping on a tough case.” Giles pulls me in for a hug, before patting my arm and heading out the door behind Bev.

Westin and I walk them out and wave as they drive away. We both stand there awkwardly for a few minutes. “I… I suppose I should head out too. Unless you’re up for a quick game of scrabble,” he says, rocking back on his heels.

“I’m sorry, I don’t have any board games. I’ve never played scrabble,” I tell him.

He points to his jeep. “I brought mine.” He cocks an eyebrow, and my stomach does a weird flippy thing.

“Oh, well, yeah. We could do that.”

Westin bounds over to his jeep in two big steps and grabs his game. “It’s easy. You’ll get the hang of it in no time,” he tells me.

He sets the game up on the coffee table while I grab him another beer and pour myself a glass of wine. I sit down across from him on the floor. He rubs his hands together, takes a quick swallow of beer and then proceeds to explain how the game is played.

We start out pretty quiet but as the evening progresses, I begin to relax.

“Chairdrobe is not a word,” I argue with him.

“It is,” he says, his dimple making another grand appearance.

“No, it’s not.”

“I promise it is.”

“What does it mean then?”

“It’s a chair that you pile clothes on,” he deadpans.

I bust out laughing. “Okay, I’ll let you have it but only because you’re so creative.” I shove him in the shoulder. “But it’s still not a real word.”

“Oh, just wait, I’ve got all kinds of new words for you.”

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