Chapter 14 #2
Rocco shot him a frank look. “No. Not if he saw you like this.”
“Like what?” Enzo frowned.
But instead of answering, Rocco just stepped through the doorway to the back and a few moments later, he returned, carrying a neon green bottle of Gatorade. He handed it over and gave Enzo another one of those frank looks, along with a wave that indicated he should go to the dining room.
“Go wash up and sit down. I’ll bring it out to you.”
Enzo sighed. “Fine.”
And okay, yes, now that he’d stopped painting and wasn’t under the burning hot sun, the exhaustion was hitting him—along with a bit of shakiness that he had a feeling was low blood sugar.
He’d only grabbed a coffee and a danish on his way out of the Inn this morning and that really wasn’t enough for the kind of work he’d put in today.
Of course when he’d headed to the mural this morning, he hadn’t known that he’d do this much work. He’d had a loose plan to work on Eliza, but he hadn’t really anticipated nearly finishing with her. There’d be some final details, but that would be at the end, when he’d go over the entire mural.
His face was more drawn than he’d realized, a white cast under his tan, and he knew he’d need to thank Rocco when he brought out his food out.
After washing up, he sat in the corner, his favorite table since forever, and a few minutes later, Rocco brought the food over, setting it front of him, along with another bottle of water.
“There’s more where that came from, too,” Rocco said. “Though you’re already looking better. You were white as a sheet before, all clammy looking.”
“Oh. Well. I guess I overdid it, a little,” Enzo admitted. “Didn’t realize it, until I looked in the mirror.”
“Good. At the risk of sounding just like Giana, you gotta take better care of yourself when you’re out there in the heat, painting.”
“I will,” Enzo promised, digging into the chopped salad. It was cool against his tongue, spicy and bursting with herbaceous flavor.
“I got an email today,” Rocco said casually as Enzo continued to shovel salad into his face.
“Yeah?” he asked between bites.
“You know I’d been putting out feelers to buy a place. In a small town. Not this small town.” Rocco shot him one of the patented Moretti smiles. “I love our cousin but I couldn’t live with him looking over my shoulder the rest of my life.”
Enzo considered telling Rocco that it wouldn’t be so bad, but then he reconsidered. For Rocco it probably would be tougher, because he wanted to run a coffee shop. First, it was way too similar to Oliver’s concept, and second, because it was food related, Luca would be unable to help himself.
He’d just want to help, and then he’d help Rocco right along into insanity.
“I get that,” Enzo said.
“Well, yeah, there’s a reason you don’t live here, though . . .” Rocco gave him a sly look. “Maybe you’ll be spending more time here in the future. Because of a certain ice cream guy . . .”
“Yeah,” Enzo said. Because Rocco’s insinuation wasn’t untrue now. Not now, anyway.
“Anyway, I’ve been talking to some people. Hoping to find something close-ish. That’s like here, but not here, you know? And I got an email today. Some ladies want to sell their coffee shop.”
“Where’s it at?” Enzo asked.
“Town in Illinois, outside Chicago. Get this,” Rocco said, leaning forward, excitement gleaming in his dark eyes that felt so much like a mirror of Enzo’s own, “it’s a Christmas themed town. It’s even named Christmas Falls. They do a big ass festival celebration there every year.”
“Do you even like the holidays?” Enzo asked, a little skeptical. That seemed like a lot of Christmas.
“Well, yeah. Who doesn’t?” Rocco waved his hand, dismissing Enzo’s concern. “Anyway, I figure I’m familiar with that whole festival vibe, since I’ve been here for the Sweethearts Festival the last two years.”
“And they want to sell it to you?”
“Yep. They told me to make an offer.” Rocco looked so excited, and Enzo was genuinely thrilled for him.
The guy worked his ass off, at what felt like a hundred part-time jobs, to save money and to get as much experience as possible.
He knew Oliver spent hours with him every week, teaching him every baking secret he knew.
“That’s so great, man. I’m happy for you.” Enzo finished his salad and moved onto the meatball sub, using the knife Rocco had provided to cut it in half, picking up one side. A glob of marinara dropped on his hand and he licked it up.
“They say they want someone with an affinity for the business. They said they heard of the Morettis all the way out there. Isn’t that cool?”
“So cool.” It wasn’t that Enzo wasn’t thrilled for his cousin. It was the reminder that he wasn’t part of that Moretti tradition. He was different. Just different enough that he’d never felt like he belonged.
Everyone was nice enough about it, but that didn’t mean it didn’t still suck.
“Luca said he’d look at the offer. Let me know his thoughts, but I’m gonna be honest. I want this.
” Rocco leaned over, dark eyes gleaming.
“They got a little kitchen in the back—not as big as Oliver’s of course, because they’re more of a coffee shop than a bakery, and not nearly the size of Will’s—but I’ll be able to do a bit of baking.
Maybe expand, in a few seasons. Make all the pastries in-house.
Maybe add paninis and hot sandwiches. Soup. Salads.”
“It sounds like the perfect spot for you. And the town’s chill, yeah?”
Enzo would be remiss if he didn’t ask. Some small towns, especially in the South and the Midwest, weren’t. And he knew Rocco had been out of the closet, out-and-proud, since early high school.
He wouldn’t want to go back in, just to own a business.
“Nah,” Rocco said. “I did some research. It’s friendly. Won’t be a problem. Besides, the couple I’m buying it from? Two lesbian ladies.”
“There you go.” Enzo finished the first half of his sandwich, but before he picked up the other half, he swallowed down half the water. “It sounds like a perfect fit.”
“Yeah.” Rocco leaned back. “Kinda like you and Will.”
Enzo rolled his eyes—even though it wasn’t like he hadn’t had that thought cross his mind more than once. “I’m only surprised it took you so long to drag the subject back around to him.”
Rocco grinned. “That’s ’cause I was so excited about the coffee shop I had to lead with that first.”
“Of course.”
“It’s going good, then?” Rocco paused. “The other day, at the coffee shop, when he kissed you, you looked floored, then you ran out of there and forgot your muffin. And you know Oliver’s muffins aren’t very forgettable.”
“They’re . . .uh not. I just remembered something I had to do then,” Enzo mumbled. He didn’t think he’d even spat out an excuse before he’d gone running after Will.
“Your mom was a little worried you were upset with him.”
Enzo knew a leading question when he heard it. He hummed under his breath as he finished the second half of his sandwich.
“I told her she was being paranoid,” Rocco continued. “But I wondered.”
“It’s . . .it’s fine. Everything’s fine.”
“So that wasn’t your first kiss with him, then?”
Enzo didn’t want to lie, but then he’d done it before, hadn’t he? Out of necessity, not necessarily out of choice but . . .
“You were there, at our first date. What do you think?” It wasn’t a lie. Of course it wasn’t exactly the truth, either.
Rocco shot him a knowing look. “I think that was a farce. A total freaking farce. You weren’t dating. But now . . .now I think you are.”
“It’s complicated.” It wasn’t, though. Not nearly as he’d convinced himself that it was, back then.
Of course that didn’t mean it was simple, either. How could it be, when for the first time since coming back to Indigo Bay, he’d experienced that same ache that had always driven him away before?
He didn’t want it to drive him away now. He wasn’t going to let it. But that meant learning to live with it, too. If he’d been able to do that before, he’d have just done it.
But you’re older. Wiser. You grew the fuck up. You can do this. If it means keeping Will.
“It would be,” Rocco said calmly. “He lives here. You don’t.”
“I don’t really live anywhere.” It was true. He had some stuff in a storage unit in San Francisco, but otherwise, he traveled around from city to city, painting murals and building his reputation.
“True.” Rocco gave him a speculative look. “So you’re gonna change how you do things, huh? For him?”
He was booked a year out. There were breaks, of course, and during those he’d explored new places, visit Chiara and Ilaria, or even head down to LA and stay with Gabe and Ren for a few days. Occasionally, he’d even let his mother guilt him into coming here.
But now . . .well, what was stopping him from using Indigo Bay as his home base?
Nothing.
Except your own freaking sanity.
But how sane would he be if he didn’t see Will again? If he came back to town and saw him sad and alone? Or even worse, if he saw him happy with someone else?
That was so much worse.
“For him. And . . .” Enzo trailed off. Realizing he was about to say, for me, too. Realized that it was actually true.
Rocco smiled, so knowingly, and patted him on the arm as he stood. “Told you he was hot.”
Enzo scoffed at Rocco’s back as he walked away.
Yeah, Will was hot. So hot it was a freaking miracle he hadn’t kissed him on that first date. But it was so much more than Will being hot. That was what told him that no matter how tough it was to figure out how they were going to do this, he was worth it.
After finishing his lunch, Enzo took his time getting back to work.
Really, he’d already accomplished more than he’d intended to today, and he could admit the only reason he was headed back was to clean up a bit and to pop into Cherry’s and see Will.
He skirted the edges of the sidewalks, keeping to the shade. When he made it to Cherry’s, he ran a hand through his hair, gave it up for a lost cause, and stepped inside.
Will was at the counter helping someone—a mother with two young kids—but he glanced up and their eyes met. He tipped his head, indicating that Enzo could take a seat.
He did, sprawling out in the corner on the bench in one of the booths.
A few minutes and two ice cream cones and a confection that was coffee and ice cream blended up together that made the mother perk right up, Will made his way over to where Enzo sat.
“Hey,” he said, reaching out and resting a hand on Enzo’s shoulder.
There was a smear of chocolate on his arm, mirroring the paint streaking Enzo’s, and not for the first time he thought, in so many ways, we’re so alike.
“Hey.” Enzo thought he could just sit here, basking in Will’s gaze, in his touch, forever. They didn’t even need to talk. He didn’t need to say, I worked my ass off today, but what kind of work it was—because Will understood.
Every morning when he unlocked the door to Cherry’s was like when Enzo picked up a brush.
“Thanks for the water,” Enzo added. Because he had been out to see him, and Enzo had clearly been in too deep to even notice. He hoped Will wouldn’t be pissed. He wouldn’t be the first one to resent that sometimes Enzo lost himself in his art.
The warm look in his blue eyes told the whole story. He not only wasn’t mad, he understood.
“You looked completely absorbed so I left you alone. But it was so hot I didn’t want you to give yourself heat stroke . . .” Will trailed off.
“I was in a zone, for sure,” Enzo agreed. “I got so much more done of Eliza than I anticipated. Sometimes you just understand, and it’s a struggle to get the paint on the surface as fast as the ideas come.”
Will smiled. “Well, she turned out incredible. Her face . . .I didn’t think there’d be so much detail, so much emotion, in her, but you captured it, and well . . .” He flushed. “You know just how good you are.”
“Yeah, but you’re always free to tell me, baby,” Enzo joked, nudging him with his shoulder. “It is a hot one, today. I’m probably done, except for some clean-up. But I stopped by to ask if you want to cool down with me later.”
Will raised an eyebrow. “Is that what we’re doing?”
It wasn’t how Enzo would’ve described it either. But he’d been talking about something else. Well, sort of something else. “Skinny dipping. In the ocean. After you’re off.” He grinned. “Get your mind out of the gutter.”
Will leaned down. “I can’t,” he admitted quietly, with a fire in his gaze. “Not after last night.”
“Then come with me,” Enzo said. But it was more, wasn’t it? He was pleading. Nearly begging.
When was the last time he’d ever needed a man so much?
Never. That was when.
But he could sense Will hesitating. “It’ll be late . . .I want to, but yeah it’ll be late. It won’t be a dusk swim, but a full night swim.”
Sure, Enzo knew why he was saying it. Was it safe? Not exactly.
But taking the physical risk felt like nothing when he thought about the way he was risking his heart.
“But I’ll have my big strong man there to protect me,” Enzo teased. “My very own Stud Muffin.”
Will smiled, the brightness breaking over his face like he couldn’t even restrain it anymore. “You’re ridiculous,” he said, squeezing his shoulder again. It sounded exactly like You’re amazing. Or maybe, You’re unbelievable.
Or maybe even, You’re so sexy, I can’t wait to have my way with you.
“In the best kind of ways,” Enzo said, grinning right back.
Will ducked his head, so much fondness in his eyes Enzo thought he was going to have to switch his name for the heart eyes emoji in his phone.
“Okay,” he said. “If you want to do this crazy thing, the least I can do is participate.”
Enzo raised an eyebrow. “That all you’re gonna do?”
He was already imagining Will’s bare skin, slick with the ocean, glowing under the moonlight. Could taste the salt on his lips as they kissed.
“Guess you’re gonna have to wait and see. I gotta go help Kate, but I’ll meet you at the Inn?”
Enzo nodded, Will tossed him one last hot look, and then walked away.
“Phew,” Enzo said to nobody in particular. He waited a minute—for his erection to be less obvious—and then slipped out, feeling Will’s eyes on him the whole way to the door.