Free Tasting Notes by Cate Ashwood

as tangible as if West was statically charged. One more slight movement and Rush’s lips would brush across West’s.
    “Fine, I’ll help,” Rush said, knowing West could feel his breath as he spoke.
    “But this doesn’t mean I like you,” Rush growled.
    “Understood,” West replied. “I don’t like you either.”
    “As long as we’re clear.”

Chapter Nine
     
     
    WEST’S HEAD was reeling, and it sure as shit wasn’t the lingering effects of the wine from the night before. It was difficult to make heads or tails of what almost happened, but a small part of him didn’t want to try.
    He didn’t understand. Rush barged in like a bear with a bee sting, all ornery and truculent one minute and then crowding into West’s space the next. Not that he could complain about that last part. For a moment, he could imagine what kissing Rush would be like, all that power and passion focused on him. It made him dizzy. Most of West’s dalliances had been civilized, dancing along the border between lackluster and completely dull.
    But it wasn’t going to happen. It couldn’t. And he didn’t want it to. He was still trying to convince himself that getting involved with Rush was a terrible idea when Rush lumbered off in the opposite direction from the door. West followed a moment later to find Rush in the kitchen, bent over inspecting the contents of the fridge. West took a moment to conduct an inspection of his own before asking, “What the hell are you doing?”
    “Getting rid of your hangover. We have work to do.”
    “I’m not—”
    But Rush ignored him. He was busy pulling ingredients out of the fridge that should never ever end up in the same vessel. West cursed himself for not cleaning out the fridge after Charlotte and Jim moved out. He supposed they left food for him, knowing he wouldn’t have anything, but right now the thought of raw eggs, Worcestershire sauce, and Tabasco had his stomach turning over in terror.
    Thinking about it, West realized it was actually kind of sweet, Rush trying to help him feel better. Maybe it was a sign he wasn’t going to move forward with such volatility as he had in the few encounters they had before. But when Rush rummaged through the cupboard and pulled down the bottle of whiskey, it was enough for West to protest. Loudly.
    “I’m not drinking that,” he said.
    “The whiskey’s for me, not you. If I’m spending the day with you, I’m doing it with a buzz.”
    “Who said you’re spending the day with me?”
    “I did. I’m not letting you fuck this up, so tighten your bonnet strings, dickhead. You’re going to get an education today.” Rush thrust a glass containing everything but the whiskey into West’s hand. “Drink this. I’ll make breakfast, and then we’re going to get to work.”
    “Don’t you have somewhere better to be?” West asked, not entirely certain he wanted to be spending the day with Rush after all.
    “Nope. Lucky for you, you’ve got my undivided attention today.”
    “Yes, lucky me,” West muttered under his breath.
     
     
    IT WASN’T long before West and Rush were sitting down to a simple breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast. West had to admit having something in his belly did make him feel better, and after he swallowed the vile concoction Rush mixed up for him, he needed something to settle his stomach.
    They ate in silence, Casper at their feet, the tension between them building as breakfast wore on. West still didn’t understand Rush’s problem with him, and right now he wasn’t sure whether he was grateful for the help. He supposed he had asked for it, but it wasn’t exactly given freely out of the kindness of Rush’s heart. West felt as though there might be strings attached. Attached to what, he wasn’t certain yet.
    When they finished eating, Rush took both their plates and loaded everything into the dishwasher.
    “Thank you, and thank you for breakfast,” West said.
    “It was nothing. I don’t want to have to