Coda Books 04 - Strawberries for Dessert (MM)

his head again, but to the right this time, so that his bangs fell away from his eyes, and smiled at me in a way that made me think he found me incredibly amusing. “Cole Fenton,” he said, in a somewhat sarcastic tone. He cocked his head back toward the hostess, who was waiting with menus in her hand. “Come on, then. Our table’s ready.”
    “They told me it would take a while,” I said in surprise.
    He was already walking away, and he glanced at me over his shoulder, smiling. “Darling, I never have to wait.”
    They seated us, and Cole handed his menu back to the hostess without even opening it. He leaned back in his chair and regarded me with his head tipped to the right so his hair was out of his eyes. His skin was almost a caramel color—a shade too dark to be called white, but too light to be called anything else. I couldn’t see his eyes well enough in the low light to determine their color—I thought brown—but I could see his expression. It was mischievous, almost mocking, as if he took nothing seriously, and it annoyed me for no good reason. “So, you’re Zach’s ex.”
    It wasn’t even a question, and I tried not to act too surprised. Zach and I had been apart for more than ten years now, and I had spent those years thinking of him as the one that got away. I hadn’t ever stopped loving him. A chance encounter in Vegas had made me remember all the ways we had been good together… and all the ways we hadn’t.
    “Jared told you that?”
    “Not exactly. But it wasn’t hard to figure out, darling.”
    I bit back my irritation at both him and Jared. “My name is Jonathan.”
    “I know . You’ve told me four times now.”
    I debated briefly whether there was any point in asking him outright to stop calling me “darling.” I had a feeling he would only laugh. “And you’re a friend of Jared and Matt? Do you know Zach and Angelo too?” I asked.
    “I’m sure Matt would object to being classified as such. The only one of them I really know is Jared. I’ve known him for nearly twelve years now. We’ve been friends since college. The others I’ve only met once or twice.”
    The waiter arrived then. “Hello, Mr. Fenton. It’s good to see you again. I assume you don’t need to see the wine list?”

    “It’s wonderful to be back, Henry. You’re correct, of course, I don’t need the list. I’m not sure quite yet what we’ll be drinking though.” He looked over at me. “Do you know what you’re ordering, darling?”
    I swallowed the urge to tell him my name again and said, “I was thinking the lamb chops.”
    He smiled. “Excellent.” Then to the waiter, “I’ll have the same.
    And a bottle of the Tempranillo Reserva, please.”
    “Of course.”
    A Spanish red—Zach’s favorite. What were the chances Cole would pick that? Not many restaurants even carried Spanish wines.
    Zach was always bemoaning the fact when we ate out.
    “Did I say something wrong?” Cole asked suddenly, interrupting my thoughts. I realized I had been staring absently at the tablecloth, and shook myself out of it.
    “No. Just the wine you chose—it reminded me of Zach.”
    “Then you shouldn’t have ordered the lamb, darling.”
    I had no idea how to respond to that.
    The waiter brought the wine. As he was pouring it, my phone rang. It seemed impossibly loud in the hushed dining room, and everybody around us turned to look at me. I felt myself blush. I pulled my phone out and hit the button to turn off the audible ring. I looked over at Cole and found him looking slightly amused.
    “I’m sorry,” I said, pointing to it. “I really have to—”
    “Be my guest,” he said, and I answered.
    “This is Jonathan.”
    “Jonathan, it’s Sarah!”
    “Sarah, can I call you back?”
    “Jon, we put in all of the charges for the spa products we sell, but when we try to enter the state tax—”
    “You don’t do that until checkout.” I was certain I had already told her that, but it was a common mistake.

    She sighed in frustration. “I’ll never figure this out!”
    “Sarah, you’ll be fine. It’s Friday night. Go home and get some rest. You’ll do better if you wait until morning and look at it with fresh eyes.”
    “Maybe you’re right,” she said, but I knew she wouldn’t take my advice.
    “I’m a little busy right now, Sarah. Can I call you first thing in the morning?”
    She sighed again. “Sure. All right. Good night.”
    I hung up and said to Cole, “I’m really sorry