Chapter 5
Turning the corner to Main Street, Will gave up even trying to stifle his third neck-cracking yawn of the morning.
He’d known, of course, that running his own business without the benefit of the Johnson last name would be hard. Worthwhile, but hard.
He’d still underestimated how much it sucked to be the only one who he felt completely comfortable relying on in a pinch. Kate was wonderful, and he knew she’d grow into a great manager, but she was still new enough that he didn’t feel like he could call her at all hours.
Like he’d been called last night, by Luca.
So he’d dragged himself out of bed—a bed he’d just collapsed into, gratefully—and gone back down to the shop, opening it up and grabbing another few gallons of Tahitian vanilla bean for Luca and the restaurant he ran with Oliver.
He wished he’d grabbed another cup of coffee from Joy, pouring it into one of her to-go cups, before he’d left the Inn. But he’d stubbornly believed that he’d only needed the one.
Will yawned again, and it was why he missed the figure stepping out from the morning shadows underneath the white and bright pink striped awning over the Cherry’s door.
His first reaction was, Oh yes please. Because in the bright morning light, Enzo Moretti was gorgeous. Even prettier now than he’d been in the dusk, last night. His second was, What the hell does he want now?
Maybe he could have been more diplomatic last night, but it wasn’t like he was any less tired or any less cranky this morning.
He’d woken to his alarm blaring, body aching from a long day of work and the long workout he’d indulged in after, and cock aching from the dry spell of a century. He didn’t want to play nice with Enzo.
For the first and the second. Because the first made him want to tell him to fuck off. And the second made him want to tell Enzo to fuck him.
“Hey,” Enzo said. He pulled away from the brick wall he’d been leaning on.
Will ignored that he was carrying two cups of coffee. Because of course he was. Was there anything more gorgeous in the morning than a man in jean shorts and a T-shirt that hugged all his curves, carrying coffee?
“What do you want now?” Will knew his tone was short, but it was the best he could do, all things considered.
It was so unfair that Enzo was going to rub his attractiveness and smug assholeness in this morning.
He extended the coffee towards Will, who didn’t take it. Offering a blinding smile, along with the caffeine.
“I think we might’ve gotten off on the wrong foot yesterday,” Enzo said. Enzo being persuasive was even hotter than Enzo being a jerk.
Unfortunately.
“I can’t imagine what you mean. I found you painting on my building.
My building,” Will dryly, still ignoring the coffee, even though he really wanted to take it—and more.
He was going to blame this momentary weakness on exhaustion.
He unlocked the door and stepped through it, not holding it for Enzo.
Hoping that would be enough to dissuade him from following.
It did not.
“I know. And I’m really sorry about that.
I didn’t realize you hadn’t been told about the mural.
” Another charming smile. Will didn’t know how he hadn’t recognized the man immediately, from the first moment.
Because Luca and Giana also smiled like that, and the effect never failed to captivate anyone within a mile radius.
“Clearly.” Will had realized that too, when he’d calmed down enough to think about it.
He flipped lights on, heading behind the counter. He didn’t think Enzo would be ballsy enough to continue following him, but sure enough, there he came, coffee still in hand.
“Then let me apologize. For me. And for my interfering mother,” Enzo said persuasively, stopping just where Will did, short of the door to the back kitchen. He lifted the coffee again. “Come on, take my peace offering. You look tired.”
Will made a face and gave in. Grabbed the cardboard coffee cup, making sure not to touch Enzo while he was at it.
No point in making things worse.
“Isn’t it rude to tell someone they look tired?” Will grumbled, sipping the coffee. He’d expected it to be too sweet and prepared totally wrong. But it was perfect, exactly the way he liked it.
Glancing at the cup again, he couldn’t miss either the Sweetie Pie’s logo—Oliver’s bakery—or the large black W scrawled on the side.
Enzo shrugged. “It’s the truth.”
“How did you know how I liked my coffee?” Will asked, changing the subject. To something safer than how he looked. Before he lost his head and asked Enzo if he liked looking, as much as he liked looking back.
“This is Indigo Bay. It’s a really freaking small town. I could find out anything about anyone, easy as breathing,” Enzo said, waving the question away. “Do you like it? Is it right? Rocco said it would be.”
“Weirdly, yes,” Will said, taking another long sip. “Thanks.”
Enzo finished his coffee. Tossed it in one of the large square trashcans behind the counter. “Am I forgiven then?”
“Is that why you’re here?”
Will was sure he was here to apologize and to convince Will to let him paint the mural.
On his way back to the Inn after closing, he’d stopped by the wall. Found the paint gone. No evidence that Enzo had even been there.
The moment he’d finished cleaning the wall, Will had loved it exactly the way it was. But he’d looked at it last night and had thought, just for a second, that maybe it was a little too big and too blank.
He’d intended to tell Enzo no, firmly and definitely.
But now he wasn’t quite sure.
“You know why I’m here.” There was no question Enzo knew how to charm. The same way he knew how to lean against the back counter, that gorgeous body on display, as he flashed another of those devastating smiles.
Maybe it shouldn’t have but it made Will grumpier.
You didn’t enjoy being hungry while forced to stare at something delicious—especially when you couldn’t possibly take a bite out of it.
“You want to paint the mural,” Will stated. He didn’t want to mess around.
Okay. He did, but he wasn’t going to. Enzo wasn’t staying, and that was enough, without all the other Giana-shaped considerations.
“I didn’t, actually. That was all my mom’s idea. But then I saw your wall, and I hate to tell you, but it’s perfect.”
“It should be. I spent a whole freaking week cleaning shit off it.”
“I bet you did,” Enzo said. “I usually have to do that work. But you’ve already done it.”
“What are you going to paint on it?” Will asked.
“Uh.” Enzo hesitated. “I don’t know actually. My clients . . .that’s usually something they concede to me.”
Will stared at him. “Let me get this straight. They pay you to paint a mural on their building, but you get to decide what it is.”
Enzo winced. “Yeah. I . . .well, I’ve learned that’s the best way for me to work. And the demand is there, so it made sense for me to make it a requirement.”
It was beginning to make more sense why Will’s graffiti accusation had bothered Enzo so much. Of course, Will had already begun to see why. Last night, when he’d opened Enzo’s Instagram, and not only had the follower number taken him aback, but the undeniable artistry of his work.
You should just let him do it.
But what if he ended up with something he hated?
Will was so proud of Cherry’s, of finally having something he could claim as his, something he had worked so hard to carve out.
He wasn’t about to cede any part of it to someone else.
“No,” Will said.
“No?” Enzo lifted a dark eyebrow.
“No, you don’t get to decide what you’re painting on my wall.”
“Oh.” Enzo had the nerve to look disappointed. He straightened. “I . . .I do hope you change your mind, honestly. It’s a beautiful building now.”
“And what, your mural would make it look even better?” Will asked archly.
Enzo flushed. “Something like that.”
“Well, I’ll think about it,” Will said. That wasn’t just lip service, because he was already beginning to think he’d made a mistake.
Stay strong. You don’t need to tangle yourself up with Enzo Moretti.
But he wanted to.
“Don’t wait too long,” Enzo said, flashing him one final smile as he headed towards the door. “I’m not going to be around forever.”
But he hadn’t had to say it, because Will already knew it.
It didn’t surprise Enzo much, but his mom was avoiding him.
She’d had dinner with them last night, but then she’d had a “meeting” and then this morning when he’d walked into her kitchen, it had been empty already.
Clearly she’d discovered that he knew the truth about the mural, and she didn’t want him to yell at her.
Killing two birds with one stone, he swung by Sweetie Pie’s, Oliver’s bakery and coffee shop, to pick up apology coffee for Will but when he asked Marjorie if she’d seen his mother, she’d shaken her head no.
Then after talking to Will, he headed to the deli, but Luca was there by himself, and he said he hadn’t seen her.
Frustration mounted as he stepped back onto the sidewalk.
He’d needed to make it clear what she’d done was completely inappropriate, nevermind unprofessional, and that was before he’d found out that Will might be charmed into forgiving him, but he wasn’t interested in discussing the mural.
Enzo had told himself that was fine. He could simply take a vacation and rest and enjoy himself. But then he’d walked by the wall again, and damnit, he wanted to paint it as badly as he’d wanted to paint anything, ever.
Grabbing his phone he texted Rocco. You seen my mother? he asked.
Rocco answered almost immediately. Yeah. She’s at Oliver’s. Figured she was safe from your wrath because you’d already been by.
That was even worse. He wondered who’d given her a heads-up that he’d found out.
Enzo walked back down to Sweetie Pie’s, and yep, there she was, sitting by the big window at one of the small tables that dotted the bright, cheery space, enjoying a cappuccino.
“There you are,” he said, taking the seat opposite her.