Tasting Notes (13 page)

West wondered what had happened to Rush during his time in the military, but he kind of glossed over that time period. West didn’t want to push. Things had clicked into place for them, and he liked the way everything was easy. He didn’t know what would happen in the morning, if the closeness would remain or if they would go back to their platonic rapport, but for now West was happy.

THE NEXT
few days flew by. For Rush they were a blur of evergreens and grapevines as he tended to his farm as well as Lennox Hill. He and West fell into an easy routine where West would help him in the mornings at the farm. Then they’d have lunch together, and Rush would wait the twenty minutes while West concocted himself a sugary, foamy atrocity of a cup of coffee before working on the winery. West hadn’t shown up at his place since the last time they slept together. Rush pushed the thought to the back of his mind that he shouldn’t be bothered by that. But he found he was, and examining the reasons behind that didn’t seem prudent. He decided to worry about it later.

They finished another day of labor at the vineyard, completing the shoot thinning on the upper level. West finally got the hang of it and needed less guidance from Rush. It took them all week, and they still had yet to complete the lower level, but West seemed inordinately proud of himself for his accomplishment.

When they arrived back at the house, Rush turned toward West. He had dirt smudged across his forehead, and Rush was taken with how handsome he was. He’d always been handsome, in that too-polished, untouchably rich sort of way, but over the last few days Rush had begun to see him in a different light. He wasn’t sure if West changed or if he had, but either way he enjoyed his company.

“You want to do something tonight? Like go out somewhere, not just to my place…,” Rush asked.

West appeared as surprised at the request as Rush felt. He hadn’t intended to ask him. It slipped out.

“Uh, sure. What did you have in mind?”

“I don’t know, really. A movie or something?”

West smiled then, and the look made Rush’s heart flutter a little in his chest. “That sounds nice, actually. I don’t remember the last time I saw a movie in a theater. Or a movie, period.”

“Well, if it was four or five years ago, it might be the same one playing here. We tend to miss the new releases. Since there’s only one screen here too, you won’t have much choice.”

“Doesn’t matter to me. It sounds fun anyway.”

“Great,” Rush said, really meaning it. “I’ll head home and get showered and changed. Then I’ll be back to pick you up in a couple of hours?”

“Sure.”

He turned and left, Casper following dutifully to his truck. He paused as he opened the door, mildly stunned by the exchange that just took place. Did he have a date? It certainly felt like it.

THEY PULLED
up to the theater, and Rush parked the truck right outside. It was a weeknight, and the street was quiet. Inside the cab of his truck, the space seemed smaller somehow, like West took up every inch and Rush was surrounded by him. He felt awkward and uneasy, like he was once more the pimple-faced fourteen-year-old sitting in the back of his dad’s Ford Taurus, being dropped off at the same theater with Emma Nicholas on his very first date.

He gave himself a mental pep talk to stop acting like such a fucking moron. This wasn’t his first date. This wasn’t even technically a date. He was being ridiculous. He tried not to think about the way his body had reacted when West opened the door of the house, looking fucking edible in relaxed jeans, a soft gray pullover, and a black leather jacket. He had shaved too, and Rush could smell the soap. For a moment he had considered canceling the movie. He could definitely make a case for staying in….

But he kept his mouth shut, and West followed him to his truck, climbing in and settling like this was any other night. Rush tried to do the same, but the whole drive from Lennox Hill to the Cameo, he was more than a little distracted.

They got out of the truck and walked up to the box office.

“Two please,” Rush said, pulling his wallet out. There was no need to specify which movie—there was only one playing—and West didn’t argue with him about who was paying. In fact, he didn’t even offer, and a small part of Rush appreciated that. He was acutely aware West had more money than he knew what to do with, but letting Rush pay for the tickets somehow said he considered them on a level playing field.

They ducked inside the lobby of the nearly deserted theater, handing the attendant their tickets as they passed through the door.

“Popcorn?” West asked, walking over to the concession counter to the left. The popcorn was a sort of neon yellow color, one not generally found in nature, but movies without snacks just weren’t the same. West ordered for them both—a bucket of popcorn to share, two drinks, and a box of Milk Duds—then paid when everything was ready. They carried their goodies into the theater and found two seats in the very center. There were two other clusters of people closer to the front, but other than them, the theater was empty.

“Have you seen this one?” Rush asked.

“
Sherlock Holmes
? No. I haven’t had a lot of downtime in the past few years. Not really conducive to keeping up with what comes out of Hollywood.”

“Me neither, but we’re here now.”

“Yeah. It’s kind of nice, actually. The last few weeks have been… better.”

“Better?”

West stared straight ahead. “Yeah, I mean, I’ve been happier. Less stressed. More relaxed. I feel… better.”

“You weren’t happy in Chicago?”

Now West moved his focus from the dark screen at the front of the theater to Rush’s face. “I thought I was. Not to sound like the asshole you thought I was when I rolled into town, but I am comfortable. You know, financially.”

Rush rolled his eyes as hard as he could. “No shit.”

“And for the most part, I equated money to success. Happiness. I didn’t have a lot of time to give it much thought. I ate, slept, and breathed work. Literally. I didn’t have lunch without a lunch meeting, and work followed me home every night. I was in early, out late, and I kept a journal beside my bed so when I woke up in the middle of the night, I could write down anything that came to me while I slept. It was a lot, but it was all I knew.”

West hadn’t spoken much about his life before he came to Canyon Creek, and Rush never asked. He was curious, but he didn’t want to pry. It wasn’t his style.

“Were you brought up to work like that?”

“That’s the thing. No, I wasn’t. I was raised to work hard and build an honest living, and until a few weeks ago, I thought that meant working as hard as possible and amassing as much wealth as I could. Now I’m not so sure. I think if my grandfather could see me now, I don’t know he would be all that proud of me.”

“I didn’t know your grandfather, but I don’t think that’s true. You’ve accomplished more than most people do in a lifetime.”

West drifted closer, until their shoulders were brushing. Rush leaned into him, increasing the contact.

“I think he would have liked you. You are cut from the same cloth.” West’s voice was quiet, almost reverent. Rush didn’t know exactly how to respond. He had heard West speak about his grandfather in the time they spent together, and it was clear he had been the most important person in West’s life. Thankfully, the lights in the theater dimmed and the screen burst to life with the same ancient introduction they’d used since Rush was a kid.

As the previews played, Rush felt West’s hand slide into his. He closed his fingers around West’s. His palm was warm and dry and felt right against his. He hadn’t held hands with someone in a theater since that date with Emma Nicholas. It was nice.

He kept turning West’s words over in his mind. He missed half the movie, thinking about what he said. His breath hitched a little at the thought of being compared to West’s grandfather. He knew it was a high honor. What he didn’t know was what was happening between them. It scared him and excited him at the same time. He still held his reservations about getting involved with a billionaire—he knew, he Googled—especially a billionaire who was leaving. They were from different worlds, even if they had similar beginnings, and in the end it wouldn’t matter anyway.

What he needed to decide was how much to invest in the meantime. And investments were West’s domain, not his.

WEST FELT
like a kid the night before his birthday party. He was practically vibrating with excitement as he waited for Rush to arrive. The shoot thinning was finished, Black Mountain was taken care of, and they could finally take a day off. Since the night of their date, there seemed to have been a silent understanding. West didn’t know how long he would be there—the longer he spent in Canyon Creek, the less he thought about Chicago. He knew he would have to go back eventually. He couldn’t avoid his life there forever, but the pleasant little bubble he was living in here was difficult to consider abandoning.

They hadn’t discussed where the relationship was going, or even if there was a relationship. It was all incredibly confusing. Waves of hot and cold seemed to be the norm. One day Rush was all over him, the next he barely looked at West. Mixed signals abounded. West had never experienced anything like it before, and he didn’t know what the implications of his feelings toward Rush were, but he knew how he felt. He liked Rush. He wanted Rush. It all seemed so simple. He needed to get Rush onto the same page, so West hatched a plan to up his game.

Finally, after waiting for what felt like forever, he saw Rush’s truck pulling up the driveway. West walked out to meet him, too excited to wait inside.

“I got you a present,” West said the moment Rush cracked open the door.

Rush laughed. “I got you something too.” He kicked the door fully open and held a cup out for West. At least he thought it was a cup. It was white and resembled a paper takeout coffee cup, but around the middle there was a swatch of fabric tied up with ribbons and lace.

“Uh, thanks…,” West said, not really sure how to react.

Rush laughed harder. “It’s coffee. Your frilly, lacy, floofy coffee. I got you an accessory to match. It’s a coffee corset cozy or something. Annette’s teenage daughter makes them and sells them out of her mom’s coffee shop. I picked up stuff for lunch too,” Rush said, holding up a brown paper bag.

“That’s really… thoughtful of you,” West said. He took a sip of the drink, and his eyes rolled into the back of his head. “Oh my God. That’s amazing. I could kiss you right now. It’s the first proper latté I’ve had in
weeks
. You have no idea how much I’ve missed this. Thank you. I can’t believe you got my order right. It took Scarlet, my assistant, a week to get it right, and you nailed it on the first shot.”

Rush leaned forward and pressed his mouth against West’s. “What can I say? I pay attention.”

“Oh! Here I am, so excited about my coffee—lace undergarments and all—I nearly forgot about your present! Come with me.”

He grabbed Rush’s free hand, the one that wasn’t carrying his coffee—in a plain white cup—and led him down the path beside the house, out to the field in the back of the property. West knew the moment Rush spotted it. He stopped in his tracks, body tense, feet frozen in place.

“What… what the fuck is that?” Rush asked.

“It’s your present. I know it’s an… unconventional gift, but I thought you’d like it.”

“You bought me a helicopter?” The incredulousness in his voice was nearly palpable.

West beamed. “I did.”

Rush turned toward him, and when West looked into his eyes, he was stunned to see anger overflowing from them.

“What the fuck for?”

“I thought you would like it. You don’t like it? I can get you a different one. I called the company, and they recommended it.”

“It’s… you bought me a fucking helicopter. A helicopter.
A helicopter
.”

“You keep saying that. I did. I thought you’d like it.” Now West was incredibly unsure. He’d been so excited, but Rush’s reaction wasn’t what he was expecting.

Rush scrubbed his hands down his face. “You’re throwing money around again like it’s no big deal. I bought you a coffee in a dress. You bought me a fucking helicopter. That’s not normal, West. That’s insane.”

“It’s normal for me. And it didn’t cost that much.”

“It didn’t cost that much?” Rush repeated.

“No. Barely more than my car. What good is having money if I can’t use it to buy things for myself and the people I care about?” He realized what he said the moment it left his mouth. It wasn’t that big a deal, he supposed. After all, who bought a helicopter for someone they didn’t care about? Rush didn’t seem to notice, though, so he continued. “We got off to a rough start, but then you helped me. Your help has been invaluable, and we became friends… and then more than friends. I wanted to do something nice for you. That’s all.”

Rush sighed. “I keep forgetting….”

“You keep forgetting what?”

“I spend time with you, and for a while I forget you have more money than God, and after a while it’s like you’re totally normal, but then you do something like this and I’m reminded you’re not.”

Wisps of anger tangled with West’s head now. “I am normal. I always have been. Just because my bank account is abnormally large doesn’t make me some kind of asshole or freak. So fuck you. It was a gift, a gesture, and you’re the one who’s acting like a prick.”

Rush’s mouth hung open, and West watched as the anger melted away, leaving understanding beneath. He grabbed West’s coffee and placed them both down on the ground before reaching out and sliding his hand around West’s bicep. He pulled him closer and wrapped his arms around West’s body.

“I’m sorry. You’re right. I was taken completely off guard. I’ve never had anyone do anything like this. I’m wandering into new territory here.”

“If you don’t want it….”

“I didn’t say that.”

“So you do want it?”