Chapter 3 #3
“True. So, you’re going to ask me out on a date. Where are we going?”
Taylor pulled out one of the flyers the festival committee had produced, all shiny and glossy, this year’s schedule listed out in black and white, framed in curling red and green plaid ribbons.
“I marked a few possibilities. Like I said, I think the biggest thing is reminding the town that you’re part of us now.”
“Kind of like what you need to do,” Rocco said.
Taylor nodded. “So we’re going to stick to a lot of the festival events. Best way to be seen. Best way to look like we’re a part of Christmas Falls. I’d be going to a lot of them anyway, as deputy mayor, but it’ll be nice to not be alone.”
Rocco wanted to ask if it would be nice to be less alone why Taylor always seemed to keep himself at arm’s length, but he didn’t. That was more of a third-fake-date kind of question.
“Alright, what do we have?” Rocco leaned in, scanning the flyer. Taylor did too, at almost the exact same time, and Rocco glanced up, only realizing a second too late just how close their faces were.
Taylor’s hair was nearly as dark as Rocco’s own, but his eyes were so crystal clear it was like looking deep into . . .
No. Snap out of it.
Goat cheese. Goat cheese. Goat fucking cheese.
“Uh, what about this one?” Rocco pointed at one of the events, not really bothering to read what it was. Did it really matter, anyway? As long as it was in the late afternoon or evening, he’d be able to attend.
“Oh, yeah, well I guess that makes sense you’d pick that one,” Taylor said, and Rocco looked a little closer at what he’d just blindly pointed out.
Holiday Wine Tasting.
It was in three days, at six thirty on Monday night, and hosted at The White Elephant.
“What, because I’m Italian?” Rocco questioned.
Taylor nodded. “You like wine, right? Or is that—”
“Well, it is a cliche, sure. But yes, I do like wine.” Rocco internally winced at how bad the wine was probably going to be. After spending a year in Indigo Bay, with his cousin Luca’s cellar to pick from, it couldn’t possibly compare, so he was just going to have to adjust his expectations.
Besides, it would be wet and contain alcohol. Something Rocco was sure he’d need if he was going to spend an entire evening faux-flirting with Taylor Hall.
“Alright, that’s perfect then. Makes me look all thoughtful and shit,” Taylor said.
“Are you not?”
Taylor shot him a look and his back stiffened. “It’s not that I’m bad at this, I just haven’t . . .not in a while.”
“Ah.”
“Not that it’s been a long, long time or anything,” Taylor said hurriedly. “I do date.”
“Uh-huh.” Rocco wasn’t going to say anything. Just let the guy dig his own hole.
“I date,” Taylor repeated in a very insistent tone.
“Sure.” Rocco paused and grinned. “You wanna say goat cheese? I didn’t even do anything.”
“No. I’m fine. I don’t need to say . . .” Taylor cleared his throat. “Goat cheese. Not even remotely.”
“Okay. So the wine tasting it is. What else did you want to cover in this plan of yours?” Rocco finished his latte, glancing up as a few customers walked in.
Rebecca could handle them, but he also liked to be present, front and center, for every visitor these days.
Maybe it didn’t mean anything, but it was something he could do.
Other than fake dating Taylor, that was.
“You need to go?” Taylor asked.
“Soon, but not right now.”
“There’s one big thing left.” Taylor looked uneasy. “Are we going to tell anyone the truth?”
Rocco considered this. “I don’t have anyone here that I’d care about knowing the truth.
” Rebecca was a friend and an employee, but she’d already guessed that he and Taylor were interested in each other, so it would be easiest to just let her continue assuming.
As for his family, none of them were here in Christmas Falls.
Would he tell any of them? He couldn’t see it, considering how they’d want, in all their overdramatic Moretti-ness, to interfere.
“Me either. My dad’s in Chicago and doesn’t usually come for the holidays.”
Rocco wanted to ask why not. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask, but before he could, Taylor said, “And as for my boss, she told me to take care of it. Maybe she guesses we’re not legitimately dating, but I think better not to tell her directly. Plausible deniability?”
“Works for me,” Rocco said, nodding.
Taylor looked at his watch again, and Rocco had a feeling that was his indication this “planning meeting” was over.
Trust Taylor to approach fake dating like it was a meeting at Town Hall.
Rocco resolved to help him loosen up a bit. Starting with right now.
“Well, I’d better make sure Rebecca doesn’t need any help,” Rocco said, standing up. Taylor followed suit, rising to his feet. “It was nice to see you again.” He raised his voice a little more. “I’m looking forward to the wine tasting.”
Taylor was looking everywhere but at him directly. “Me too.”
“Remember,” Rocco said, dropping his voice to a murmur, “that your safe word is goat cheese, okay?”
“Why—”
But Taylor didn’t get the whole question out, before Rocco was reaching out and tugging him into a firm, affectionate hug. For a second, Taylor stiffened, maybe in shock, and then he relaxed into it.
If Rocco had anything to say about it, Taylor was definitely one of those clean-living types, with a hard body to match that attitude, deliciously firm against his own.
He was also the perfect height too—approximately four inches taller than Rocco himself—and bigger and broader in all the right ways.
Rocco didn’t really want to let go, but he knew he should. After one last squeeze of Taylor’s very nice shoulders, he released him.
“You good?” Rocco asked under his breath.
Taylor smiled. “I didn’t say goat cheese, did I?”
“No, you did not.” Rocco didn’t add that he’d been feeling a little goat-cheesy himself.
He didn’t say it because it was just a hug, for goodness’ sake.
They were going to have to do a lot more than that if they wanted to convince Christmas Falls they were dating—though considering the town’s gossip mill, maybe not that much more.
Rocco didn’t know if he was excited or disappointed by that realization.
“Well, thanks for the cider. It was really good.”
“Of course it was,” Rocco said, patting him on the arm. That very firm, muscled arm.
He snatched his hand back.
Goat cheese.
“I’ll see you around,” Taylor said.
And then he was gone, the bell over the door tinkling as it closed behind him.
Freaking goat cheese.