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“Ben?”

“Nowit all makes sense.” Ben turned his glare on Alton. Alton looked taken aback, though not particularly alarmed.

Zach said calmly, as though jealous boyfriends popping out of shrubbery was a normal occurrence, “This isn’t the time or the place.”

“I disagree,” Ben said. “I think the moment I catch my boyfriend cheating isexactlythe time and place.”

Zach, hoping Ben might follow his lead, kept his voice down. “Ben, we’re not together. We split up four months ago.”

Ben had no interest in keeping his voice down. He said more loudly still, “You know there’s a courtesy no dating period!”

“What?”

Alton cut in with a chilly, “Perhaps you two should discuss this outside.”

“Weareoutside,” Ben informed him. Ben was not a surly guy, but he sounded downright pugnacious for a man with leaves in his hair.

“I’m sorry, Alton.” Zach was already on his feet. “Come on,” he said to Ben, who withdrew, noisily rustling the wall of bamboo. A quick glance toward Flint’s table offered a glimpse of Flint calmly retaking his seat. That was both reassuring—Flint had been ready to spring into action—and embarrassing.

But then, what was one more embarrassment on a night which was now in contention for the most embarrassing of his life?

Zach made his way through the gauntlet of curious gazes and murmured comments. He couldn’t help noticing that, once again, Chico Martinez was nowhere to be seen.

Was that really just a coincidence? But what was the alternative? It’s not like Chico could have known Zach was about to be accosted by his ex.

Ben waited impatiently in the wide doorway as Zach reached the entrance leading into the restaurant.

“I don’t know what the hell you think the point of this is,” Zach said tersely, quietly.

“The point is to let you know how I feel. The point is to ruin your evening.” Ben turned his back and led the way through the crowded and much noisier restaurant, out the front door, and into the small chef’s garden.

“Where are we going?”

Ben did not reply.

Zach tried again. “Ben, what are we doing?”

They were literally standing in a large planter, rutabaga and tomatoes to their knees, and not that far out of earshot of the diners seated just inside that huge front operable window. The smell of damp earth and pungent herbs hung in the moist night air. Misty rain whispered down around them.

A couple passing on the cobblestone street threw them puzzled looks, went up the steps on the side, and entered the restaurant.

“Ben, is there some reason we have to do this in a lettuce patch?”

Ben turned, and his face was hard and unfamiliar in the gloom. “You told me there wasn’t anyone else.”

“There isn’t! But I didn’t say I wasn’t going to date! Sooner or later, I’m going to go out with someone. Sooner or later, I hope thereissomeone else. But tonight, it’s work. There’s nothing going on.”

Ben turned his face skyward and gave a sound that was half-groan, half-outrage. “Give me a fucking break! He was hand-feeding you like you were his pet parakeet.”

Zach swallowed his anger, tried to remember that he really did care for Ben, really did hope they could one day be friends again. “Ben, thishasto stop. It’s been four months. Youhaveto move on.”

“I guess my feelings run deeper than yours.”

That hit home. Because Zachdidfeel guilty about falling out of love, about jettisoning all the plans they had made. Or at least, the plans Ben had made and that Zach had gone along with. But guilt wasn’t love, and it wasn’t a good enough reason to stay in a relationship. And despite his best intentions, he was losing his temper.

“I thought that, too,” Zach said. “But now I’m wondering if this is more about you being a control freak and having to deal with things not going to plan. Because you really don’t seem to care at all about whatIwant or what would make me happy.”

“You seem concerned enough about that for both of us.”