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“Red carpets are a far cry from congressional testimonies, but she’s marrying one of my teammates. It’s sort of like helping out your buddy.”
Her lips parted before she caught herself. “Oh, that’s exactly what it’s like.” Bailey had zero interest in celebrity gossip but barely refrained from asking questions about the actress. “You’re going to be bored out of your mind with me.”
He snorted. “Scanning paparazzi versus hunting down a murderer? Fat chance. I’m locked in on Caitie’s case.”
She ignored the strange blip of disappointment. What else was he supposed to say? He liked working with her? “So, you love Granite Creek, you know one of the most famous people in the world, and you gave your childhood hometown a thumbs-down. I’ve learned a lot about you, and we haven’t even had pizza yet.”
“I don’t know if any of it adds up to having a kid.”
“You’ve got me there.”
“What else do you want to know about me?”
“Have you ever thought about having kids?” Had that just come out of her mouth? What kind of coworker conversation was that? This was the second time she’d spoken without thinking. Inwardly, Bailey cringed, but outwardly, she forced a neutral expression, relying on her uncanny ability to ask intrusive questions for a living.
He leaned back, smiling. “Are you interviewing me like one of your podcast guests?”
She stifled a groan. “Sorry. Nosy by trade.”
“Only teasing, Bailey.” He shrugged. “Yeah, maybe one day. I’d thought that was in the cards for me before, and I was wrong. Hadn’t thought about it again…until now, I guess.”
“Really, Wes, ignore me.”
“I know the way your brain works. Once something makes you curious, it’s there until it’s answered.”
The oven beeped. Thank God. She jumped up and finagled the pizzas onto two pizza-sized flat platters, then grabbed a bag of premade salad from the fridge.
“Can I help?” he asked, ambling over.
“Plates are in there.” She pointed to the cabinet next to the stove, grateful he had changed the subject.
Wes selected three plates and located the silverware drawer, setting the table as he added, “I know you want to know why I gave my hometown a thumbs-down—”
“I don’t.”
He arranged the forks. “My sister and I grew up in a pretty happy household. Then everything went to hell. My parents are divorced but live in the same town I grew up in. I haven’t been back in a long time.”
He spoke of his family as though he wanted to forget them. The creaking sound of pain echoed in his explanation, and his body language suggested he was sharing to get it over with. She needed to move on. He wasn’t a podcast guest with a past to unbury. He was…more. Someone who made her feel like she hadn’t in a very long time. Bailey sliced a tomato for the salad.
Wes moved to her side. “What else can I help with?”
Making dinner with friends had never made her insides twirl at the offer of kitchen help. “The pizza cutter is in that drawer. Slice them up and bring them to the table?”
She finished making the salad, tossed it with dressing, and followed Wes to the table with the bowl. Maybe Matt was correct. This didn’t feel like enough food to feed Wes. “I could toss butter and garlic on bread and pop it into the toaster oven if you need something else.”
He set the pizzas down. “Is there a good chance you and Matt will polish off two pizzas if I weren’t here?”
“No.”
His emerald eyes twinkled. “Then we have enough food.”
“If you say so.”
Bailey called Matt to dinner. He scampered into his chair, still eyeing Wes, but with less distrust since the Popsicle discussion.
She poured Matt a glass of milk and asked Wes, “Iced tea, water, or soda?”
He glanced at the glass she set in front of Matt. “I’ll have what he’s having.”
