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“I wasn’t angry, Cole. I haven’t had much sleep since Hawaii. I was tired.”
“I’m aware.” I kiss her.
“And you didn’t invite me over last night...”
“Because you blew me off the night before.”
“I was tired.”
“You never invite me over,” I point out.
“My apartment is basically a shack compared to your house. Plus, you have a kid.”
“So?”
“I’m not having you leave her alone overnight just because I like waking up next to you...”
I can’t hide the smile that cuts across my face. “You, Eliza, are goddamned amazing.”
“Yeah?” She quirks an eyebrow.
“I like how often you consider Destiny,” I say. Part of the reason I never dated was because I wasn’t sure how Destiny would take to someone new—or how well they’d manage with her.
But Eliza already feels like a mama bear with my girl, and it plays my heart like a drum.
“Where are we going?”
“Sushi Zushi. Fairly new place on Alki Beach. You’ll love it.”
“Do they have good coffee?”
I chuckle, shaking my head.
“What?” she asks like she doesn’t know.
“Maybe a Tokyo lungo? I’ve never ordered coffee there. Do you really need it with every meal? Try the sake with me.”
“No, but I always have coffee with breakfast and after dinner.”
“Why am I not surprised?”
“It’s good for digestion,” she insists with a smirk.
“What?” I demand.
“I can’t tell you,” she says softly.
“Why not?”
“I just can’t.”
“Eliza—”
“No. You’ll be mad.”
“I won’t be. Now spit it out. You’ve said too much to back out,” I warn.
“Okay, well... You know how you got mad when I told you Wired Cup’s whole brand was reliable?”
“Yeah?”
“You don’t drink enough coffee. You don’t savor it enough to know the difference between reliable and reverent.”
“Guilty. That’s why I hired you.”
“Then why were you so offended about being called reliable?”
I grin, shaking my head.
“Woman, just because I don’t want to spend all day tasting coffee doesn’t mean I want to be known as the CEO of a boring fucking brand.”
“You’re a strange man,” she muses, pushing her hand into mine. “Good thing I’m hooked on you.”
It’s about half an hour before we arrive at the posh restaurant. Tom opens the door with an affable nod, and I help Eliza out of the car, walking her through the stylish glass doors.
Her hand stays clasped in mine as we walk to the hostess booth.
“I have a reservation for a private room,” I say.
“What’s the name?” the hostess asks.
“Smith.”
She checks her book and nods. “I’ve got it.” She picks up a couple of menus. “Right this way, Mr. and Mrs. Smith”
Eliza’s brows knit together as she leans up to whisper in my ear. “But it’s Lancaster? Don’t tell me you picked a name so unoriginal for whatever it is you’re hiding?”
17
Secret Recipe (Eliza)
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.
