Coda Books 04 - Strawberries for Dessert (MM)

Somehow, when it was only the two of us, it was less obvious. Less ostentatious. Less obnoxious. Yes, he still flirted with me incessantly. He batted his eyes at me—but only in jest—and he called me sugar or darling. But somehow, when we were alone, the full force of his affectation was dampened. Now that we were in public again, it hit me head-on. It seemed overblown and exaggerated. I felt as if the man I had been spending my time with and sharing my bed with was suddenly gone and there was a complete stranger in his place. Even in Vegas, some people were turning to watch him pass, smiling in amusement as they did. I found that I was slightly embarrassed to be seen with him, and I hated myself for it. It made me feel unbalanced and a little bit uncomfortable.
    “Is everything all right, love?” he asked me, as we waited for our table to be ready.
    “Of course,” I said, making myself smile.
    “Mmm-hmm,” he said, watching me, and I felt a blush start to creep up my cheeks.
    “Everything’s fine,” I said.
    “You don’t have to lie to me,” he said, giving me a sad smile. “I know that I’m embarrassing you.”
    “No! Absolutely not!” I said, and then immediately wondered if I had protested a bit too vehemently.
    He continued to smile at me. “It’s nothing new to me, love. Some people get flustered, and some get offended. Some find it amusing.” He shrugged. “It’s okay to admit it.”
    “It’s not that,” I said, wishing even as I said it that I was telling the truth. “I promise—”
    “Don’t worry about it,” he said, turning away from me. “You’ll either get used to it or you’ll decide I’m not that good in bed anyway.”
    I didn’t know if I should deny it more or try to apologize or just let it go. I stood there cursing myself—first for being such an ass and then for being so transparent about it. I had never minded before if people knew that I was with another man. Why should it be any different now?
    Once we were seated, I got my bearings back. Yes, we were in public. But sitting together at the small table, it felt more like we were alone again. There were still the flirting looks and the singsong, mocking cadence to his speech. Those I was used to. But all the rest of it seemed to fall away, and I felt myself relax again.
    “I really am sorry,” I told him, although I couldn’t stand to meet his eyes.
    “Don’t apologize to me, love,” he said. “Just don’t expect me to apologize either.”
    Whether he felt awkward for a while after that or whether it was only me, I didn’t know. We of course had to order dinner before we ordered wine. My half-joking suggestion that we simply order a bottle of Chianti was met with mocking disdain, especially after I ordered salmon.
    “What do you think of the food?” he asked me halfway through dinner.
    “It’s delicious,” I said, winking at him, “but your cooking is better.”
    He looked quickly down at his plate, and I suspected it was to keep me from seeing the blush on his cheeks. “You’re so good,” he said. He kept his eyes hidden from me, but I could tell he was smiling.
    “Somebody in your past trained you very well.”
    I laughed, although only a little. “Yes, he did,” I admitted, thinking of Zach. “And then he let me go.”
    The waiter eventually brought the check, and we had one of those ridiculous moments that I thought only happened in movies where we both reached for it at the same time. We each had one hand on the little faux-leather folder, but neither of us picked it up.
    “You know I’ll get it,” he said.
    “I know you will ,” I told him, “but I don’t want you to.”
    “Really?” he asked, looking amused. “I picked the restaurant. It only seems fair that I pay.”
    “You paid last time.” And paid way too much to boot, but I didn’t say that part. “I want to get it this time.”
    “Sweetie, I’m not trying to brag here, but we both know I have a ridiculous amount of money—”
    “That’s not the point,” I said, feeling my cheeks turning red again.
    “ Really ?” he said again, but this time he sounded genuinely surprised, rather than amused.
    Of course he had more money than me. Way more money than me, and that was putting it mildly. But I wasn’t exactly broke. I made a very good living and had few expenses. I had always thought of myself as being on the lucky end of middle class. He, on the other hand, literally had millions. Even though it was an