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“Did I even bother to mention how wonderful you look tonight?”

Zach, preoccupied with casing the crowded restaurant patio, glanced across the table at Alton—and then took another look. In the shadowy firelight, Alton’s pale eyes held a predatory gleam. His smile—and the glimpse of his canine teeth—was a little unsettling.

“Your hair looks almost red in this light. And your eyes are as blue as the sea at Spanish Bay.”

Zach said hastily, “I’m wearing gray and blue plaid boxers.” For good measure, he added, “And blue retro stripe socks.”

Alton blinked, then laughed and sat back in his chair. “I should probably warn you that for me, the chase is ninety-nine percent of the fun.”

“I should probably warn you I made the national HSSA Boys Cross Country—” The waiter arrived then, and Zach stopped there.

While Alton took his time grilling the waiter on how every entrée on the menu was prepared, Zach looked again for Flint on the crowded patio. He was relieved when he finally spotted him tucked away by one of the small waterfalls. For some reason, he’d pictured Flint in one of his Hawaiian shirts, ball cap, and shades, but in fact, Flint was soberly, unobtrusively dressed in a tailored white shirt and gray slacks. He was sipping a glass of wine and staring meditatively up at the tall, rain-glittered olive trees, and Zach had to give it to him, few people looked as comfortable dining alone.

“Zach, dear,” Alton prompted, and Zach snapped back to awareness. He realized it was his turn to order.

He also realized when Alton saiddear, he said it in the same tone as Zach’s mother when she was about to explain to him why he was wrong again.

Zach chose the charred broccolini with Romesco sauce and Marcona almonds, and the grilled lobster tails in coconut cream, Scotch bonnet, and thyme with honey nut squash, scallions, and toasted coconut rice. He figured after the stunt with the lace panties, Alton owed him a lobster dinner at the least.

The waiter departed. Zach said, “I spent the day looking into the threats you’ve received so far. The Old Timey Fun jack-in-the-boxes were discontinued two years ago due to a potential choking hazard. They weren’t actually recalled, though. The company voluntarily stopped production. Vendors still had the option of selling old stock. That makes it a little harder to track—”

Alton looked ever so slightly pained. “Let’s save the business discussion for after our meal.”

Zach’s brows drew together. “Okay, but—”

The sommelier appeared beside their table. Once again Zach had to bite his tongue while Alton went through the wine list, exhaustively considering pairings and vintages and bouquets. Zach didn’t care for wine. Ben had been the wine expert in their household. Zach preferred craft beers, ideally IPAs, but Alton seemed to be anti-ale. He liked wine with his meals, brandy after, and scotch in between—and plenty of all, though so far Zach had never seen him noticeably inebriated.

While Alton put the sommelier through her paces, Zach considered the crowded patio. It was pretty busy for a Monday, and a rainy Monday at that, but the greenery and waterfall absorbed a lot noise—or maybe a lot of people were enjoying quiet, intimate dinners. Beyond the restaurant staff, nobody seemed to be paying them attention.

After Pebble Beach, he’d been expecting something very different from the elegantly rustic, graciously casual eatery located right there in the middle of Lincoln Street. The attention to detail was the same, though: a quaint cottage vibe of dark wood, marble, slate, and tile. Accordion windows opened onto the rain-wet garden with its mysterious lights, waterfall, and firepits.

If he ever went on a real date again, this was where he’d bring the guy. He glanced automatically at Flint, and happened to catch Flint’s gaze. Flint winked.

Zach hastily looked away.

“What do you think of this marvelous cheese board?”

“Uh…nice.” It was very nice. But honestly? Zach thought Alton had ordered way more food than they could possibly eat. He wasn’t a big fan of food waste. That was no doubt the accountant in him.

“Have you tried this brie? It’s tremendous.” Alton smothered a toasted cracker with a creamy chunk of cheese and held it up so Zach could take a bite—which he did, uncomfortably aware ofbeady-eyedFlint sitting a few tables away.

“Mm.” He licked his lips, trying to catch the crumbs.

Alton seemed preoccupied by every flick of his tongue. “Do you have to wear glasses? You have such pretty eyes. Had you considered contacts?”

“I’ve considered them, yeah. I don’t find them comfortable.”

“I wear them.”

Zach said politely, “That’s nice.”

“You get used to them.”

The mood—whatever mood this was—was abruptly broken.

“Well, isn’t this cozy!” Ben’s indignant voice floated overhead.

Zach looked up and then around—his fellow diners looked equally startled—and finally he located Ben’s disembodied head poking through a short wall of black bamboo dividing the upper-level patio from the lower level where he and Alton were seated.