Total pages in book: 156
Estimated words: 157140 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157140 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
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.