Grinning, I said, “You got it, Boom.”

I was already sitting at a table when West walked through the door. He looked good, but he always did. Not that I’d ever go there. Like Lucas, I knew West and I would be better as friends.

West smiled when he saw me and waded through the tables. “Hey, thanks for meeting me,” he said, pulling out the chair opposite me and sitting down.

“No problem.” I nodded toward the coffee. “Got it for you, plus the muffin.” I pushed the plate with the chocolate one on it closer to him, while I pulled my blueberry one in.

“Thanks, surprised you remembered.”

I shrugged. “Can’t forget how you went on and on about chocolate muffins.”

He snorted. “I didn’t go on and on—Jesus, this tastes amazing,” he mumbled around a mouthful. Chuckling, I raised a brow, and West gave me a glare.

“Anyway, what’s been happenin’?”

He stared down at his muffin before looking over my shoulder, then the other, and when he shrugged, he said, “Nothing much.”

“West, you didn’t call me here for small talk. We’re friends, right?” He nodded. “Then you should know whatever you say, I’ll keep it to myself.”

He let out a breath. “How are you finding working at… you know?”

“Things have been good. Are you findin’ it hard?”

“No… well, sort of, but….” He growled under his breath and ripped apart the muffin a little more.

“What’d the muffin do to you?” I asked.

He stilled, dropped the crumbs, and brushed his hands together before leaning back in his seat. Then he was leaning forward and blurted, “I’m in trouble.”

“What?” I clipped. “How?”

He shook his head. “Not the type you think…. Fuck, Kylo, I think I like a client.”

Oh fuck.

“I presume this person is a guy?”

“Yes.” He nodded and got a far-off look with dreamy eyes. Shit it all out. He was lovesick for a client. This wasn’t good unless the client felt something for him.

“Do you think this guy could… I don’t know, like you back?”

He bit his bottom lip and shrugged.

Shit.

I winced and scrubbed a hand over my face. “West, I don’t know if this is good.”

He dropped his head and groaned, running a hand through his hair. “I know. But I can’t stop thinking about him.”

“What are you gonna do?”

“That’s the thing. I don’t know.” He threw his hands up. “Do I stop going there? Do I get Saint or Country or State to get him someone else? Do I keep going and try to stop my feelings?” His eyes landed on me. “You need to tell me what to do. I have too much going on. I don’t need this extra stress in my life, and all because I couldn’t stop getting feelings for a client. Jesus, I’m pathetic.”

Leaning across, I punched him in the arm.

“What was that for?”