Chapter Nine #2
“What did you say to him?” Will asked, hoping his question sounded casual enough.
“You mean, did I tell him the truth?” Enzo’s voice dropped lower, and he slid in closer, practically murmuring into Will’s ear. If anyone saw them together, they’d believe, no question about it, that they were incredibly intent on each other. That they didn’t even see anybody else.
“Yeah,” Will said.
“I told him I was taking you out on a date, and he told me I had good taste,” Enzo said, grinning. “Don’t worry, I didn’t lie. Just slightly stretched the truth.”
“Alright.” Will relaxed. “It’s . . .it’s awkward, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, a little. But we’re gonna be just fine.” Enzo leaned in even closer. “The real question isn’t who we’re gonna tell the truth—or who we’re not gonna tell—but what I’m gonna call you.”
“Yeah?”
“We gotta come up with the best, most convincing pet names,” Enzo said.
“Pet names?”
Will looked up and Rocco was standing in front of the booth, a black apron wrapped around his waist, and wearing a polo shirt with Rudy’s logo embroidered on the upper right-hand corner.
“I forgot you were working here, too, now,” Enzo asked, sounding surprised.
“Rocco’s everywhere,” Will said. “You still good to stop by on Thursday morning for some quick training?”
Rocco nodded. “Yep. What can I get you to drink? Wine? You know Luca is curating the list these days.”
“I was thinking of this Sonoma County pinot noir? What do you think?”
“Oh, that’s a good one. Really nice drinkable wine. One of Oliver’s favorites. You guys gonna share it?”
“Yep, two glasses. And some of those parmesan cheese straws, alright?” He glanced over at Will. “You good with that?”
“Sounds great. Those are the best.”
Rocco leaned in. “You do know they buy those from Oliver’s bakery, right?”
Enzo chuckled, and Will felt the sound resonating through Enzo’s body, echoing into his own. “I didn’t, but I guess I’m not surprised.”
Rocco nudged Will. “You’re the only one in town who isn’t secretly—or not so secretly—buying baked goods from Oliver.”
“That’s because Will’s amazing,” Enzo answered. He draped an arm around Will’s shoulders. It couldn’t have been that comfortable because Enzo was shorter and smaller, but he didn’t hesitate. “Such an incredible baker. Even more incredible than Oliver.”
Rocco looked skeptical, and Will couldn’t blame him, because he was not a better baker than Oliver. “Sure,” Rocco said. “I’ll go grab your wine.”
When Rocco left, Enzo dropped his arm, but didn’t let go of Will completely. Instead one of those beautiful artist’s hands wrapped right around his bicep and squeezed. “Now, what about these nicknames?” Enzo said persuasively.
“We can’t just call each other Enzo and Will?”
“Oh, we can. But not in public! We need to convince everyone we’re falling madly in love.”
Will raised an eyebrow. “And if you were falling madly in love with me you wouldn’t call me Will?”
“Oh, I would. But my mom doesn’t know that. The sappier I am, the more convinced she’ll be.”
“Okay then. What about baby?”
Enzo shot him an incredulous look. “Really? That’s the best you can come up with?”
“Pookie?” Will suggested, scraping the bottom of his brain. “Dumpling? Sweetums?”
Enzo laughed. “Cutie Patootie? Peanut? Boo-Boo?”
And now Will couldn’t help but join in. “Where did you even come up with these?”
“My endless imagination,” Enzo said, waggling his eyebrows.
Well, Will could at least equal him. “How about Pumpkin?” he suggested.
“Do I look orange to you?” Enzo asked.
Will looked him up and down, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen all of you, yet. Maybe there’s a big lumpy orange part.”
“Oh, Stud Muffin, I promise you, all of me looks this good.” The exaggerated leer Enzo gave him made it clear he wasn’t serious, but Will had a feeling that while he was kidding, what he said was actually the truth.
Enzo would look so good without a stitch on. Not just good. Fantastic. Amazing. Tasty enough you wouldn’t be able to resist taking a little bite.
“What about Honey Butt?” Will suggested.
Enzo shifted, and something flashed across his face—so quick Will almost missed it, but he was looking for it—that reminded Will of his own conflict. The outwardly pretend ridiculousness compared to his own interior longing.
“I do have a very good ass,” Enzo agreed.
It was why Will had suggested it. A ring of truth in the middle of all this ludicrous posturing.
“You do . . .” Will trailed off, realizing he was going to have to say so, in front of the whole of Indigo Bay, including Enzo’s mother. “What about Honey Bunny?”
“Oh, that’s cute,” Enzo said, smiling. Not the over-the-top exaggerated grin of earlier, but something real. “And I’m gonna call you Stud Muffin. If the shoe fits . . .”
“I’m flattered,” Will said, but Enzo just rolled his eyes.
“You have mirrors. You know what you look like,” Enzo teased. “You’re one hundred and ten percent hunk.”
“Is that Honey Bunny saying that or Enzo?” Will wondered in a low voice. Hoping Enzo would understand the difference.
“Both,” Enzo said.
Rocco arrived with the wine then, opening the bottle with a flourish and presenting Enzo with the taste to verify its quality.
“Okay, this is delicious,” Enzo agreed as he swirled the cherry red liquid in his glass. “Really fruity but deep, too.”
“I’ll tell Luca you approve,” Rocco said dryly. His gaze shifted to Will. “Would you like me to pour you a glass?”
“Sure,” Will said.
Rocco did so with an adept flick of his wrist, settling the bottle on their table and promising that the cheese straws would be out shortly. “Would you like to order?”
“Oh, Honey Bunny,” Will said, forcing himself to keep an even tone of voice even as Rocco’s eyebrows edged up towards his hairline, “what were you thinking? The flank steak with the baked potato and the brussels sprouts?” They hadn’t discussed the menu, but he knew what was good here, and he had a feeling Enzo did too.
Enzo nodded. “Medium rare on the steak. What about you, Stud Muffin?”
“Yep, you got it, Honey Bunny.”
Rocco burst out laughing. “Are you two okay? Are you drunk already? I just poured the wine.”
Leaning forward, Enzo nodded, shooting Will a rapt look. “We’re drunk on love,” he said.
“Alrighty then,” Rocco said. “Well . . .you enjoy that, and I’ll put your food order in.”
“I’m not sure he was convinced,” Will said once he’d disappeared.
“How could he not be? We were so full of love we were practically vibrating with it.”
“Well . . .uh . . .” He knew they were probably overselling their story, but he didn’t want to say so, because what if Enzo stopped? Enzo was so pleased with himself, and this was the most fun Will had had in months. Maybe years.
If he was honest, maybe the fun would stop.
And he really, really didn’t want it to stop.
He wanted Enzo to keep himself plastered up against him, one hand on his arm, another creeping up his thigh. Wanted to keep gazing into those amused dark chocolate eyes.
“It’s okay, we’re still getting good at this,” Enzo said, squeezing his bicep reassuringly. “We’ll get better.”
“You’re so patient you’re practically a saint,” Will told him wryly.
“Oh, Stud Muffin, not a saint when it matters.”
Will didn’t think he’d ever get tired of Enzo laying it on thick. Especially with these outrageous comments were accompanied by an intense fluttering of his eyelashes.
“I’m looking forward to discovering just what a devil you can be,” Will murmured, his tone unexpectedly serious. Unexpectedly real. He couldn’t help wishing, not for the first time, that his desire might actually come true.
Enzo leaned in. He was only a breath away from Will’s face; it would be so easy to kiss him. For real.
Will wanted to. Wanted to kiss all that sweet bullshit right off his lips.
But he didn’t. Because he’d already told himself this was the line he was drawing. He couldn’t kiss Enzo in public and then keep his distance in private. His heart wouldn’t take that kind of misdirection.
“Now this is actually convincing.”
Will glanced up and Rocco was standing in front of their booth again, a basket of cheese straws in his hands.
“I hardly believed you before,” Rocco continued, “but this now, looks damn good. Like you’re about to start making out, damn the gossips.”
“I . . .uh . . .” Will stammered as Rocco set the cheese straws onto the table. Afraid that Rocco was a little more right than he wanted to admit.
“It’s okay. It’s hot. I love it.” Rocco winked at them. “Enjoy these. I’ll be out in a few with your food.”
Ironically, after Rocco was actually convinced was when Enzo shot back half an inch. He took a long sip of wine, and Will decided that might not be a bad idea for him, too. And was pleasantly surprised by the rich taste coating his tongue.
“This is really good,” Will said, gesturing with his glass.
“Luca’s a genius with wine. Could’ve probably been a sommelier but where’d he find the time?” Enzo shrugged. “That’s what he should’ve done instead of playacting at starting a gelateria.”
“What?” Will couldn’t believe what Enzo had just offhandedly claimed. Will was in the ice cream business so he understood exactly what Enzo had revealed. In the United States, they had ice cream parlors. In Italy, they had gelato and gelaterias.
“You didn’t know?” Enzo took a closer look at his face. “Oh man, you didn’t know.”
“How serious were they?” Will didn’t want to apologize for opening Cherry’s, but he respected and admired Luca and Oliver enough that the last thing he’d have wanted was to step on their toes.
“It wasn’t that serious. They talked about it a lot.” Enzo waved a hand. “But honestly, they’re much happier that you opened Cherry’s, instead. At least Oliver is. He’d never see his husband if Luca did everything he wanted to.”
“Oh. Well.” Will squirmed uncomfortably on the bench seat until Enzo’s hand clamped down on his thigh. And that was both distracting and arousing enough he stopped wiggling.
“I promise you, it’s fine. Everyone’s happier that you did it, instead.”
“If you say so,” Will said. Wanting to believe Enzo was right. Worried he was not. He’d need to talk to Luca himself. Make sure they were indeed as good as he’d believed they were.
“Trust me,” Enzo said, “if they weren’t happy about Cherry’s, you’d have heard about it. Luca wouldn’t have made friends with you, even if Oliver broke ranks and did it anyway. And you know my mother never would’ve stopped squawking about it.”
That was true about Giana. She was hardly subtle and absolutely incapable of keeping a secret.
“Eat a cheese straw and stop angsting about it,” Enzo encouraged. “I want to see you put it in your mouth real slow. Torment me a little. Make me wish we weren’t in the middle of this busy restaurant.”
Will laughed, because what else was he supposed to do? It was impossible to be faced with such an incorrigible request and not be amused by it.
“Worried about my gag reflex?” Will joked.
“Not in the least,” Enzo said with relish. “Especially not after you stick that whole pastry into your mouth.”