Cole doesn’t answer when I ask what kind of game he’s playing with the Smith alias.
We follow the hostess to a back room with menus waiting on each side of the table.
He pulls out my chair and waits for me to sit. He might be a grump to his core, but at least he’s a chivalrous one.
“Thanks,” I say, trying not to blush as he sits across from me.
“I’ll grab you some waters and your server will be with you shortly.” The hostess exits the arched entryway to this private room with its black walls, tan seats, glass, and low lights that make it look like it was transplanted straight from Tokyo.
“So, why did you make the reservations under a fake name, Mr. Smith?” I should probably drop it, but I have to know.
“Privacy,” he answers, his eyes narrowed.
“We really need more of that?” I whisper across the table.
He studies me for a moment.
“Eliza, is something wrong?”
“…I’m just curious.”
“You’re sitting at the most exclusive Japanese restaurant in a city of almost a million people. Places like this attract money, and it’s a small world. You’d be surprised how ruthless the competition can be. All it takes is a little encounter with an executive from another coffee company who slips some jagoff on Twitter a juicy tidbit about Cole Lancaster dining with a beautiful young woman. Suddenly, my ‘eligible bachelor’ face is plastered all over social media and I’ve got a very big, very annoying distraction to deal with. When you head up a major business of any sort, you’re always somebody’s target.”
My stomach drops.
That’s definitely a fair reason for secrecy, and worlds apart from any two-timing older men who played me before. I almost feel guilty for wondering.
“But Smith? Seriously?”
He glowers, but before he can speak, a young girl with curly red hair arrives to take our order.
“We’ll start with two sakes,” Cole says. They throw a few expensive brand names back and forth. I can’t even pronounce them without knowing a word of Japanese.
This is me. Swimming with the big fish and already drowning.
“Do you have ginger ale too?” I ask.
“We have a house made ginger soda,” the waitress tells me.
“I’ll take it.”
His lips barely move, but Cole laughs with his eyes.
“Afraid you can’t handle the sake?” he asks after she moves away.
“I don’t drink a lot…”
He nods, studying me over the rim of his glass as he sips his water.
“I don’t think you were done.”
“What?” He sets his glass down.
“You explained the need for privacy—I get it—but it seems like you wanted to add something more.” I sip my water, studying his handsome face.
He shifts in his seat—and do I see a tiny crinkle of nervousness on his face?
“Our co-workers can’t find out about this yet, Eliza. Until I talk to HR, we’re technically breaching several major rules against fraternization.”
“Fraternization.” I laugh sourly.
Also, didn’t he say he’d deal with HR days ago? I can’t be too judgmental.
He’s not Derek. I’m not being played for a selfish man’s ego.
Still, when you’ve been burned before, you start looking for any whiff of smoke.
“What’s wrong?” he asks gruffly, fixing me with a stare.
“Hmm?”
“That laugh. It’s not your usual peppy giggle.”
No joke. I’m trying not to be a paranoid bitch when I know I shouldn’t be.
The server returns with our drinks before he can press me. “Are we ready to order?”
“Whatever you call the crab with avocado and spicy aioli,” he says immediately. “I want a couple of rolls of that, a spread of your market sashimi, a tempura roll, and throw in a California roll for my lovely date from San Diego.”
I stare at him, unblinking.
Wow. Until now, I never thought I’d like having a man order for me. But there’s something oddly charming about trusting Cole enough to take care of me.
Now, if only we could build the same trust outside of delicious food and sheet-ripping sex.
“Bring it on the Zushi boat, please. I’m a sucker for a good presentation,” Cole continues.
She taps the order into her tablet and disappears.
Under the table, Cole catches my foot gently between both of his. I gasp and look at him.
“We’re not off to a great start, are we? Minus the impeccable sushi order, I mean.”
“We’re fine,” I lie.
“Fine. Exactly what a man wants to hear on his first real date in a decade,” he says with a snort. “I don’t want any secrets between us, Eliza, so let me be clear. We have to keep a low profile around the office for just a little while longer. Not that the truth hasn’t slipped out to a couple people already. Troy knows about us, and I’m sure Katelyn does, too. He even said something to Destiny.”
My heart skips.
“Oh, like what? Why? And why would he tell your daughter of all people?”
Cole sighs. “He’s known me for too long, and I’ve never just been his boss. He saw us together in Hawaii and picked up on the obvious, I’m sure. Can’t say I’m thrilled with him talking to Destiny, but he’s an odd bird. The man never had a class in manners and as much as he pisses me off sometimes, he does his job flawlessly. Still, we don’t need a whole peanut gallery talking in hand signals about the last time we kissed or winked at each other. That kind of shit will definitely make it up the chain, and we can’t have that happening when it’s not on our terms.”
I sip my ginger drink slowly.
Everything about this is confusing. I’m also not great at hiding, even if it’s for a good reason.
Having dinner in the open as a couple was also his idea. I never asked for this.
I just mentioned people would find out sooner or later.
Deep down, every time he mentions Destiny, I can’t help remembering what she spilled in Kona.
Is he actually over his dead wife? Can he ever truly be ‘over’ her?
I get it. A small part of his heart might always belong to her considering they had a flipping child together.
But I can’t handle being his rebound, his stand-in, his ghost made flesh.
After Derek and his heartbreak on a stick, I can’t stand being anyone’s shadow girlfriend.
While I’m still brooding, a huge wooden boat shows up with two waitresses, piled high with colorful sushi so beautiful it’s hard to eat.
Lit sparklers shine at each end, crackling shades of orange and yellow.
They set the boat down in the center of the table with a few plates and our waitress snuffs the flames with a golden spoon before she disappears.
“Holy crap. Dinner and a show?” I whisper, hoping my awkward smile doesn’t tell him how unclassy I am.
He smiles across the table. “I thought you’d like it. The presentation is part of the experience.”
Trying to swallow my worries for now, I pick out several pieces of my spider roll with spicy aioli and some California roll and drop them onto my plate.
Cole loads his plate without seeming to care what he grabs.
A voice in the back of my mind won’t leave me alone while I’m trying to savor the delicious meal. It tells me I’m being silly, I’m letting my fears rule me, and I should just shut up and enjoy this fairy-tale beast of a man.
But it’s too hard to let my guard down after the way the night began, even when the conversation eventually becomes easy again.
We laugh about Hawaii, Destiny’s turtles and dolphins, plus all the little spots we explored far more intimately than any tourist should.
Near the end of dinner, Cole looks up as the waitress reappears with dessert menus.
“My lady would like your best coffee. I’ll have the plum wine,” he says, catching my eyes and ordering for me again.
God, why does that give me all the butterflies?
“Wonderful. We have a Tokyo lungo with locally sourced cream and a dessert latte. Otherwise, we have plain black coffee.”
“She’ll have one of each, and she’ll let you know what she likes best,” Cole tells her.
“Noted,” she says.
I stare at him. “Did you just order me three cups of coffee at nine o’clock at night?”
“I’ll drink whatever takes second place for you. And it was worth it to see the look on your face.” He smiles. “I was starting to worry I wouldn’t see it again tonight.”
“You mean it disappeared when you transformed into Mr. Smith?” Lifting one foot from my shoe under the table, I slide it against his leg.
The sly smile he gives me makes me feel naked.
“If anything I said offended you, tell me,” he whispers.
“Cole, we’re cool.” And I will myself to make those words true.
The server returns soon, carrying coffees on a silver tray with an assortment of creams, high-end sweeteners, and honey. She sets a carafe down with an empty ceramic mug. “Black.”
The next one is a huge see-through mug. It’s covered in whipped cream and drizzled with fragrant chocolate, with a middle layer of what looks like the Japanese coffee jelly I’ve heard about.
Finally, the Tokyo lungo in a wide mug. The long shot of espresso steams the air with its glorious scent. She also leaves Cole his plum wine in a glass.
“Anything else?” the waitress asks.
Umm—I’m good for like the next week on fancy coffee, but I look at him.
“I think she’s happy, and that’s all I wanted,” he says, sipping his wine smugly.
I can’t help but giggle once the waitress leaves.
“I hate you. You make it way too hard to stay mad,” I say.
“Good. Then you’ll finally tell me what you were mad about?”
“Oh. I wasn’t mad exactly…”
“Like hell. Something I said ruffled your feathers, Eliza.” His hand slides across the table, capturing my fingers.
“I misspoke. I’m sorry. I was never mad. More like…” I trail off, taking a long pull from the dessert drink and slipping into coffee heaven. It reminds me of hot chocolate with a delicious Japanese twist, the best of east and west coming together in a taste-gasm that curls my toes.
“What were you then?” His eyes are piercing as they search mine.
“Huh?” I pick up the black coffee for a pallet cleanse. It’s nothing special, but I can dress it up however I want for a few sips before I pass it over to him.
“You said you weren’t mad. You used the wrong word. What were you, sweetheart?”
Good question.
“…I don’t know.” I pause, trying to decide how I condense my whole messed up history with Derek into something he’ll understand without thinking the worst of me. Or even if I should.
This whole time I keep wondering if he’s over his wife, but what does it say if Derek is alive and well and evil as ever in my own memory?
“I was just enjoying the moment. With Cole, I mean—not Mr. Smith. Honest.” I squeeze his hand, digging my nails softly into his palm.
After dinner, he helps me to the Lincoln waiting at the curb and slides in beside me. I’m so full it’s a miracle he doesn’t have to roll me into the car.
“This was my first date in over a decade,” he says, the city’s nighttime shadows cascading across his face. “Don’t write me off just yet over one dull alias, Eliza.”
“I guess I won’t this time, Mr. Smith,” I joke.
“We won’t have to hide forever,” he promises, taking my hand and kissing the back. “Once we’re in the clear, we’re done with this cloak and dagger bullshit.”
“How sweet of you,” I tease.
He lifts my hand, turns it palm up, brings it to his mouth, and plants his lips in the center.
God. How does something so innocent melt my soul?
Does it only make me crazier for ignoring red flags and jumping into bed with him?
He’s still staring at me with an expression I don’t recognize.
“You enjoyed the date then?” he asks.
I smile so wide my face hurts. “You’ll see me again soon. There’s your answer.”
“Without the dress?” he growls in my ear just as the car stops next to my apartment.
We get out and he walks me to the door.
Before tonight, we also agreed that we’d try to keep things clean—try to control the storming desires that can cloud any new relationship so easily.
But when he pulls me close and his tongue delves into my mouth, it’s all the encouragement I need. We’re both sucking and straining and gasping for air when he breaks away with a muffled, “Fuck.”
“Cole?”
“Yeah?”
“Never wait three days to kiss me again. Also, never let me make any stupid promises about ending things with a goodnight kiss,” I whisper, brushing his lips.
His lips find mine again with a low, hungry rumble. I love his frustration boiling into my mouth, the passion lashing in his eyes as he rips away from me.
“If I ever entertain this stupid chaste shit again, shoot me first,” he says, his hand sweeping my hip. “It has to be less painful than this. Definitely less brutal than the smurf balls I’ll be dragging home tonight.”
A few days later, I’m in the lab, working on a frozen drink when I hear footsteps.
Troy stops at my side, wearing that pearly white smile that seems permanently riveted to his face.
“Hey.” I smile at him and return my eyes to my blender.
He comes over to the metal lab table I’m working at and leans against it. “I had to see the campfire magic for myself. Cole insisted.”
“Did he?” I try not to sound annoyed.
“Yep. I’m just the bean delivery guy, but every so often I get a wild hair to see the final product. Especially the new stuff.” Troy winks at me.
“Your timing could be better. I’m only working on frappes today…”
“Would you mind showing me the campfire base? I’m sorry to pull you away from your other work; it’s just, you know what a hardass the bossman can be.” He makes an exaggerated panicked face, raking his fingers through his hair.
“Well, it’s no big deal to whip up a quick batch. Here, you can see it from the start…” I grab the blender, stick it in the freezer, and set up the grill. “Any particular drink?”
“Just the basic drip. That’s the part you actually do over the fire, right?”
“Right. Kona or the Wired Cup brew?”
“Is it the same process?” he asks.
“Basically, yeah. With the peaberries, you use less flame and more time to get it just right. The home version brews faster because you can add more heat without burning the Sumatran and Brazil mix.”
“Kick-ass. I see you’ve done your homework.” He scribbles a few notes into his phone with a stylus. “Give me the Wired Cup stuff. No point in wasting precious peaberries for a demo.”
I get a pot going over the open flame on the grill and start the brew, setting the timer. I disappear for twenty minutes to my desk, taking care of records and saving myself from more awkward conversation.
But I can’t stall him out forever.
When I return to my station, he’s sitting in my seat by the grill and looks up. “So, you and Cole really hit it off like a house on fire back in Hawaii, yeah?”
I blush, but I don’t dare confirm or deny it.
Just because Troy knows doesn’t mean it’s open season.
I remember how much Cole stressed privacy. I also don’t have any raging desire to get Troy started on our love life, even if he is a dear old friend of the man I’m dating.
He shoots me that too-wide grin again. “Relax, Badger Lady. You don’t have to kiss and tell. It’s all safe here among friends.”
I frown. Hearing that silly nickname from him is the only time it’s ever annoyed me. I’m not sure why his entire attitude rubs me so wrong.
Maybe it’s because he’s just too close to a mysterious past that keeps surfacing…
“Say, can I ask you something, Troy?”
“Of course.”
I clear my throat. “…what do you know about what happened to the late Mrs. Lancaster?”
He sobers up fast, that easy smile disappearing instantly.
“Aster?” He scans the room like he’s afraid of someone dropping in. Even though we’re the only people in the lab, he still whispers when he says, “You don’t know? Well, it’s only natural to wonder… Long story short, she killed herself. Everybody knows it, deep down.”
I gasp, rocking back against the counter.
Whatever I was expecting, it wasn’t that.
“S-she did?”
“Yeah. She was…a good woman. Stunningly beautiful. Smart. Amazing head on her shoulders for art. She had a lot going for her before—you know. But she was also pretty messed up, mentally.” He looks away with a heavy sigh. “Poor woman really had something going wrong in her head. Her family was all perfection, but I always knew there was something rotten in her life. It wore at her. It corroded her.”
Corroded? Interesting choice of words.
“That’s awful,” I say softly, the only thing I can manage.
“Yeah. Suicide is a hard fucking pill to swallow, and just between us, I don’t think Cole ever came to terms with it. He probably thinks he’s partly responsible for not keeping her happy even though she had an army of therapists.” He pauses, slowly meeting my eyes. “Destiny was so young. I’m not sure she ever totally understood it. I’m just damn glad they’re both finally moving on. For a while, I didn’t think either of them would. They kept their distance from me for years. I think that big trip was a way of dealing with things for a lot of reasons.” He smiles brightly. “Hey, you seem pretty close with Destiny, too. That’s great. It was cute the way you made sure she had her phone before you let her join me on the boat ride.”
I shrug, forcing a smile.
“That’s just what her dad does. I figured it must be the rule.”
“Has she ever talked to you about her mom? Just curious.” He levels a serious look on me.
“A little. Not much. She only said that this was their first time back on the island since her mother died there…” I’m downplaying that tearful conversation, yeah, but I don’t know how much Troy talks.
He holds my gaze, something like hurt in his silver eyes.
“Destiny was happy there and I was damn glad to see it. That’s her family house. Hell, the whole farm, really. The way they left it before this recent trip, I wasn’t sure either of them would ever go back. But she had a great time, and she liked surfing so much, she’s been begging Cole for a weekend in SoCal with her friends.”
“Yeah? I wasn’t sure how much she liked it,” I say.
“Why’s that?”
“She seemed a little apprehensive. Once she got going, she didn’t hate it. But she mentioned how she used to be afraid of beaches. I wondered if it was a little overwhelming for her. I also got the feeling that surfing was almost like a way of confronting her fears more than any burning interest, unlike her time with the dolphins and turtles.”
“Oh, damn. Wow. That’s news to me. I’ve never met a kid afraid of the beach,” Troy says slowly. “Did she say why?”
“No. She mentioned they found her mom there a long time ago. Maybe it’s just the idea of being so close to that spot. Losing Aster so young must’ve been insanely traumatic.”
“Fuck. She didn’t see anything, did she?” he leans closer, his face pulled tight before it relaxes into his carefree smile. “Sorry. It’s still a little hard on all of us, sometimes, even if it was ages ago. I always thought Destiny was home with Cole when it happened.”
“I don’t think she saw anything. It’s just knowing her mom’s body was there…”
“Yeah, sure. That makes sense. Thank God.” He mutters the last part to himself, nodding.
Huh?
The loud timer whistles through the lab, empty except for us. I wave my hand in front of the boiling pot on the grill.
“Here we go. This is basically all there is to the campfire method. You need to make sure it always peaks around a hundred and eighty-five degrees.” I lift the digital thermometer in the pot to check. “Close. But we’re not there yet.”
“Cool. I’ve seen just about enough to get the gist of it. If it’s good enough for you, then it’s good enough for me to call it right here.”
“Nobody minds a shorter day.” I smile, feeling a little better about having him around.
“Thanks again, Miss E. For being there for my friend and his daughter, I mean,” he says, looking up from punching a few more notes into his phone.
I nod, mostly to myself as the man turns his back and starts walking.
“Hey, Troy, if you’re this worried about him… Do you think he’s over her?”
He turns around and rakes me with a look.
“He wouldn’t lead you on, if that’s what has you worried. He’s not that kind of dude. Have you asked him about it and talked it out?”
I hesitate, my throat suddenly feeling like cotton. “No. It just feels a little callous asking him to swear he’s over his dead wife… I mean, it’s not even my place to ask.”
“It was eons ago, Eliza. He’ll probably never be completely over her, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t care about you. Deeply. Anyway, I’m probably not the person you should be having this conversation with.”
“Right. I’m sorry. You’re his best friend, so I just thought I’d ask…”
“No biggie. I can tell you what I know, but I don’t want to speak for Cole, right?” He searches my eyes.
“I understand.”
“Good, and thanks again for the science demo. I’ll see you later.” Troy leaves the lab.
I run to the drinking fountain by my desk for water with my stomach swirling.
All of those alarm bells and red flags are burning my senses.
No, I don’t think Cole is like Derek, but that’s not the point.
He’d never cheat and lie.
Okay, he’d never cheat.
He might lie—harmless, necessary little white lies like his Mr. Smith act at the sushi place—but I don’t think he’d ever hurt anyone on purpose. But what if he’s not fully over Aster?
Half an hour later, Cole texts me. I jump when my phone vibrates.
How are the cold drinks coming?
Dude. You sent someone down to watch the campfire method and you think I’ve had time to get your frozen drinks ready?
They’re not coming yet. I got a little sidetracked with Troy’s visit, I send back.
Cole: Just let me know when they are.
Eliza: Will do, but it’s going to be a few hours.
The next text he sends is an image of us.
Me, specifically, asleep in his arms on the hammock in a green Hawaiian oasis. I took this after you fell asleep. You were too fucking cute not to.
There go my worries again.
I’m smiling like a moonstruck fool at the memory.
If only I could hold on to that.
But if his wife’s death is making him hold back, making him hesitate, then all our happy Hawaiian memories are tainted.
And if coffee and secrets are all we have, then it’s one bad cup I can’t stomach.
