Chapter Ten #2
“Oh, of course he was,” Giana trilled, clapping her hands together. “But no kiss goodnight?”
It would’ve been far easier to perform this just for Joy, but Will steeled himself. Winked at Giana. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to kiss and tell,” he said lightly. “But I appreciated how Enzo made sure it was very private, very personal. Very romantic.”
It had been unbearably romantic. The stars shining overhead, the rustling of the leaves the only sound breaking the silence around them. Enzo’s dark eyes intent on his. The way his body had fit so perfectly against Will’s.
Will was pretty sure he’d wanted the kiss nearly as badly as Enzo had.
But he’d restrained himself, because they’d drawn the line, the right line, and Will had to admit he admired and respected Enzo even more as a result.
“Oh, I knew it,” Giana said, turning to Joy. “Didn’t I tell you a hundred times they’d be perfect for each other?”
“A thousand,” Joy retorted dryly, but she was smiling too. “Enzo’s a good boy. A good Indigo Bay boy. He knows the right place to kiss a man he’s into, and it’s not my front porch, Giana.”
“Was it in the park?” Giana asked excitedly. “By the statue?”
Will had worried this would be hard, but it was actually way easier than he’d imagined. He nodded, and Giana shrieked in delight.
“This is the best news,” she said.
Will gave them both another smile, agreeing without words that, yes, it most definitely was. Then he bid them goodnight, heading into the house. As he walked up the stairs to his room, he pulled his phone out of his pocket.
They both ate it up, he sent to Enzo.
Enzo’s reply came in almost instantly. Both? You mean my mom’s there? With Joy?
Did you not expect that?
No. I didn’t know they were that close.
They were sitting out here on the front porch. Just chatting, I’d imagine.
Huh. So they both enjoyed it? Did you spin your tale well, Stud Muffin?
Will unlocked his door and settled against it as it closed.
Squeezed his eyes shut. Wished, even as he tried to pretend the thought wasn’t spinning through his head over and over again, that Enzo wasn’t on the other end of a text conversation, but they were talking about it.
Laughing about it. That he was right here, right now, and that in a minute, they’d settle into the bed together and their amusement would morph into white-hot lust.
Well as I could, Will said. A little hard to go into some of the finer details in front of your mother.
Aw, and she’s worried if I’m a gentleman.
You are. In case you were wondering.
A guy who wasn’t would have said screw the consequences and thrown caution to the wind, but Enzo hadn’t, even though he had to know that any desire he felt was easily reciprocated by Will.
Turns out you haven’t been brainwashed by the town! Or maybe you’ve actually been un-brainwashed?
As Will pulled his shirt off and unzipped his jeans, settling on the edge of the bed in just his boxer briefs, sadly alone, he thought of what he’d known of Enzo before he’d come back.
What Giana had promised him Enzo was like, every time she’d come in, singing his praises. The casual references Luca and Oliver had made to their cousin. The stories Kate had told him when he’d asked.
The only thing I thought about you before you showed up was that you must need help getting a date, or else why else was your mom so insistent I talk to you?
Ouch.
Good news, you definitely don’t need the help.
An understatement.
Thanks for making me feel better.
It’s unfair the whole town judges you by how you were when you were twenty-one. We’re all idiots at that age.
Even you?
Even me.
Will thought of himself, when he’d been twenty-one.
He hadn’t been wild by any stretch of the imagination, but he’d stayed out too late, partying on the beach, hooking up with anyone he felt like, rolling into one of his parents’ stores with only a few hours of sleep, hungover and jittery with the caffeine he’d drunk to combat his exhaustion.
Nobody had ever judged him for that. Okay, well, they had, but only a little. He’d still worked hard, but had he cared as much about the work? Back then, no.
It wasn’t like a whole town had condemned him, not like they had Enzo.
Of course, Will hadn’t known that Enzo. He only knew this Enzo. But he understood, a little, why Enzo didn’t want to come back here, and why he’d refused the idea of moving back permanently. Why he’d carved out a life for himself elsewhere.
Huh, Enzo texted back. I think I’d liked to have met you, back then. Think of all the trouble we could’ve gotten into.
Will wanted to tell him, imagine what we could get up to now.
But he didn’t need to say it because he had a feeling they were both thinking it.
I think we’re having a pretty good time now.
Definitely the most fun that Will had ever had on a first date. Even a faux first date.
Could be even better.
Will stared at his phone’s screen. He knew Enzo felt the same. He’d felt it the whole date, and especially at the park, when they’d playacted their first kiss.
God, pretend I didn’t say that. It only makes it harder, Enzo texted before Will could figure out how to reply.
Easier, too? To know it’s not just me.
You’re working tomorrow? Enzo sent, and Will was actually glad that he’d changed the subject. He wasn’t sure how much more teasing he could take before he decided they might as well just give in.
Yeah, I’ll be in. Maybe we can grab lunch again, together. Plan our next big date.
Maybe they didn’t technically need to do another one, but Will already wanted to.
Sounds good.
Enzo decided to avoid his mom’s kitchen the next morning, because he wasn’t particularly interested in the interrogation she’d give him.
So instead, he lit out early, to try to avoid the heat of the day, and stopped by Sweetie Pie’s to get a coffee and a hand pie before he started work on Will’s building.
But Rocco wasn’t the one staffing the front counter when Enzo walked in—and neither was Marjorie, Oliver’s long-time employee.
It was Oliver himself.
“Morning,” Oliver said, grinning, as Enzo approached the counter. “Have a good night?”
Enzo pointedly ignored him, pretending he wasn’t glad that the news had already made the rounds. If it hadn’t, he’d have been disappointed. After all, he and Will had practically designed the date to be the hottest gossip in town. “You heard about the date, huh?”
“I think everyone did. Rocco said you two were practically glued at the hip.” Oliver leaned over the counter. “I’d say he was exaggerating, but he was so flabbergasted by it, and these nicknames he claimed you kept using, that it must be true. Rocco’s smart, but he doesn’t have your imagination.”
“It’s . . .uh . . .it’s new but it’s . . .” Enzo had thought it would be easier to talk about this. After all, he’d basically done it with Luca, before the date.
Oliver raised an eyebrow. “Luca said you were going out with the guy, not that you were going to fall in love with him on the spot.”
Okay, admittedly, convincing his mother was easier, because it was exactly what she wanted to see, but Oliver? Luca? Even Rocco? They were going to be tougher nuts to crack.
But that didn’t mean he wasn’t up for the task.
“What did you tell me about Luca, when you first met him?”
“That he was an annoying, overbearing jerk?” The soft smile that bloomed over Oliver’s face told the whole story, though.
“A hot annoying, overbearing jerk, though,” Enzo teased.
“True,” Oliver admitted with a grumble. “But Will’s not annoying or overbearing.”
“Exactly.” Enzo grinned. “He’s nice like you, the perfect foil to my Moretti-ness, just the way you are with Luca, and he’s hot.”
“Should I be penciling in a wedding date?” Oliver joked.
“No. But you can get me a large iced vanilla latte and one of those sausage and egg and cheese hand pies.” Enzo glanced over at the case, brimming as always with Oliver’s delicious baked goods, each one looking better than the last. “And a cherry streusel muffin. I’ve got cherries on my mind.”
Oliver chuckled under his breath as he opened the sliding door to the back of the case and pulled out the hand pie and the muffin, setting the former on a piece of parchment paper so he could heat it up in the toaster oven on the back counter. “I just bet you do,” he said.
“Rocco’s not here today?”
“Oh he’s in the back. Working on the bread order.” Oliver waved back there. “I’m sure if he hears you’re here, he’ll come out. He’s really confused.”
“He was the one who kept telling me how hot Will was. How could he be?”
Oliver laughed. “Yeah, I don’t think Rocco was expecting that you’d go that route, if you went any route at all. I think he was thinking more of the few weeks of torrid hookup variety, not a sappy love affair.” He paused. “Are you really calling him Stud Muffin?”
“I love cherries and I love muffins and he reminds me of both,” Enzo said with a sly grin, grabbing his muffin and popping a piece of streusel in his mouth. He watched as Oliver went over to Taylor, his bright red Italian espresso machine, and began to make his latte.
“I bet Giana is literally over the moon.” Oliver’s comment was casual, but Enzo knew him well enough to hear everything he wasn’t saying.
When was the last time you gave your mother exactly what she wanted? Wrapped up in a present with a gigantic bow on top?
The answer was never.
He’d never done it.
Maybe this would be tougher than he’d imagined.
“I haven’t seen her, so I don’t know how she is,” Enzo said. It wasn’t exactly a lie. He hadn’t seen her. “And what’s this about her spending all her time over at the Inn with Joy?”
Oliver waved his hand absently. “Oh, you know, they’re friends. After Giana tried living in Charleston for a bit, she came back here and they hit it off. Giana . . .I don’t know . . .chilled out some. Or my mom finally had the time? I’m not sure. But they’re practically inseparable these days.”
None of this made sense. Giana was not magically more chill. If she was, then Enzo wouldn’t be calling Will Stud Muffin.
“It’s good for my mom to have a friend,” Oliver continued as he poured a shot of espresso into the cup half full of ice. “Keeps her from working too hard. Either at the Inn or her books. Besides, I think Giana told me she was helping Joy source some antiques for the Inn expansion.”
Enzo didn’t point out that Joy working less seemed incongruous if they were adding onto the Inn. He just took his coffee, his hand pie, and muffin nothing but a wrapper full of crumbs he tossed in the garbage on the way out, nodded to Oliver, and left.