Chapter 5 #2
Rocco was debating pulling his phone out and sending Taylor a text himself, something along the lines of what the hell, dude—but he told himself he’d do it after the workshop.
Give him a little time to calm down, and maybe sound less outraged that Taylor hadn’t contacted him after their (fake) first date.
But when he pulled open the door, immediately spotting Rebecca at one of the long tables dotted with craft supplies, there was a very familiar face next to her.
Taylor freaking Hall, in the flesh. Not too busy to text Rocco, not even close.
The only thing that made Rocco feel better was the shock on Taylor’s face when he noticed Rocco approaching.
Taylor had not expected to see him tonight.
Rocco shot Rebecca a reproachful glance that told her they’d be talking about this later, because surely this was why she’d been so insistent he attend—she’d known Taylor would be here.
“Rocco,” she said delightedly. “I’m so glad you came.”
“Rebecca,” he acknowledged, and then because it felt like the whole room was staring at the pair of them and how they’d greet each other, he turned to Taylor. “Hi, Taylor,” he said, keeping his tone as neutral as he could. “Good to see you again.”
Taylor cleared his throat, and then the idiot pulled him into a tight hug. Not even giving Rocco a chance to goat cheese out of it, even if he’d wanted to.
And that was the real reason his ego was smarting, wasn’t it? Because he didn’t want to goat cheese out of anything, not when it came to Taylor.
Tonight, he was wearing a T-shirt and another pair of jeans that hugged his long legs, cupping an ass that was completely, unfairly perfect.
Rocco was feeling a little punchy, so he let his hands drift lower as Taylor finally released him, giving that ass a little squeeze.
If Taylor looked surprised before, he looked shocked now. Well, Rocco hadn’t exactly missed Taylor touching him all over during their wine tasting date, so as far as he was concerned, that squeeze had only been fair play.
“Imagine seeing you here,” Rocco said dryly.
Taylor was still staring at him. Like he’d never seen his face before. God, he’d barely looked in the mirror before running out the door. Did he have a smear of pizza sauce on his face, from the frozen pie he’d thrown into the oven and eaten standing up by his miniscule kitchen counter?
“You okay?” Rocco said.
“Just . . .” Taylor cleared his throat. “Uh, glad to see you, honestly.”
“Huh. And here I thought you might’ve forgotten all about me,” Rocco muttered under his breath after he turned towards where Marlene was calling for everyone’s attention.
“Never,” Taylor said in a loud and clear voice that probably nobody missed, even anyone randomly passing by Santa’s Workshop on the sidewalk.
Rocco did not roll his eyes. He was a grownup, wasn’t he?
A mature adult who did not throw hissy fits like a child, beating their fists against the nearest convenient surface when they didn’t get their way.
He watched as Marlene and Griff demonstrated how to fill the clear plastic globe with fake snow, and then miniature trees and buildings, finishing it off with glitter glue on the outside. There were also paint pens scattered on the tables, if they wanted to include a special message.
“Maybe I should paint my number on it,” Rocco muttered under his breath.
“Are you okay?” Rebecca asked, looking concerned.
“Oh, just fine,” Rocco said, just as Taylor also added, “He’s just fine.”
There was nothing worse than being told how you felt by a person who could not remotely have any idea.
Rocco decided this fake dating thing was actually worse than real dating. It had all the same potholes you could fall into, twisting your ankle or breaking your heart, without any of the associated benefits.
It was bad enough that he’d been thinking for the last two days what Taylor kissing him on his doorstep would’ve been like. It was terrible, heaped on top of complete shit, that apparently Taylor hadn’t been thinking of it at all.
“Oh good,” Rebecca said. “Hey, I’m gonna go ask Marlene something.”
She left, even grabbing her purse, which probably meant she was permanently relocating.
Rocco huffed under his breath. They were going to have to discuss how transparent her efforts were. He picked up an empty plastic globe and began to carefully trickle in the fake snow, twisting and turning the sphere to make sure it was arranged in pleasant-looking piles.
When he glanced up from his work, he realized Taylor had not started his ornament and he was just standing there, staring at Rocco.
“Seriously?” Rocco asked. “Do I have tomato sauce on my face or something?”
“Do you think you have tomato sauce on your face?” Taylor countered.
“Yes. No. I don’t know.” Rocco set his partially filled ornament down. “You keep looking at me like I might.”
Taylor shrugged, pretending now and smiling easy, like he hadn’t just been staring like he wanted to catalog every nonexistent smear of tomato sauce along Rocco’s jaw.
“Well, that’s really helpful,” Rocco hissed under his breath. It sucked they were doing this here, in public, because he couldn’t even act mad. No, he had to look lovestruck.
Was it worse that he was actually, legitimately torn between berating him and gazing at the guy with heart eyes that didn’t feel all that fake?
“Listen, I’ve never done this before,” Taylor said. “And I’m shitty at dating, anyway, but fake dating? That’s a whole other thing.” He made a face. “I should’ve texted you, I know. I . . .well, if I’m being honest, I wanted to a little more than I felt comfortable with and that was weird.”
Rocco felt that hard, anxious place inside him unwind a little. Like all it had needed to untangle was the right thread pulled, and Taylor’s words had done just that.
“Oh.” He cleared his throat. “Yeah, it is a little weird. Probably that I wanted you to, a little too much.”
“Should we—”
Rocco imagined that Taylor was going to suggest they quit this whole stupid charade, and maybe he was right, because it was weird, but he didn’t think Taylor would then suggest they date for real.
The alternative was that they’d go back to being merely friendly acquaintances, and that was terrible.
So Rocco interrupted him. “No,” he said firmly.
“I had a regular come back today. And it’s a regular who I’m pretty sure is on the city council. ”
“Oh yeah?” Taylor didn’t look disappointed by Rocco’s interruption. In fact, he looked relieved. Like he hadn’t even wanted to suggest it, either.
That soothed the rest of Rocco’s ruffled feathers.
“Yeah,” Rocco said with an emphatic nod. “I poured him the best goddamn pumpkin spice latte I’ve ever made. Maybe I even told him your inherent Christmas spirit inspired me.”
“Thanks,” Taylor said with genuine gratitude.
“I should . . .” Rocco didn’t want to come clean, but he should tell the truth. Taylor deserved the truth. “I should be honest about something.”
Taylor raised an eyebrow.
“My cousin?” Rocco continued. “The one who had the fake relationship and uh . . .I told you that it really helped? Well, it really helped. Better than either of them ever expected. They fell in love. They got together for real. They’re still together, for real.”
Taylor stared at him, and Rocco suddenly wished the floor would eat him up. Why had he brought this up? And here, of all places?
“You said it worked great,” Taylor said slowly.
“Well, it did,” Rocco said. And then added hurriedly, “It sure got his mom off their backs. And if you ever meet Giana Moretti, you know that’s not an easy task. The rest of it was just . . .uh . . .coincidence. That doesn’t mean it’s going to happen with us.”
“You seem sure about that.” Taylor didn’t sound so sure himself—or that he liked it. That took Rocco’s ego down a peg. Maybe deservedly.
“You said you’re not looking for a relationship. Neither am I. That hasn’t changed. Sure, we had a great time the other night. But that doesn’t really change that.”
Taylor looked like he was five seconds away from goat cheese-ing out of this whole thing—the conversation, the Christmas ornament party, and maybe even their fake relationship—so Rocco forged ahead.
“Honestly, yes, maybe there’s a little attraction. On both our sides. But if we just acknowledge it, then that doesn’t mean it has to control us. We control it.”
Taylor looked dubious at this claim, and frankly even Rocco wasn’t that convinced. But the alternative was worse.
“I’m not sure that’s how it works,” he finally said.
“Sure it is,” Rocco said breezily. “We just need to promise to be honest. And in worst-case scenarios, there’s always goat cheese.”
Taylor laughed then, long and loud, like it had been completely startled out of him.
“Right. Of course. That’s true. I didn’t think about that.
” He paused. “Well . . .uh . . .maybe we should take advantage of the fact we’re both here and I’m pretty sure at least half the room is staring at us.
” Taylor’s voice had dropped even more, and to make sure Rocco had heard him, he’d stepped closer, and now he was practically murmuring into his ear.
Rocco swayed closer, felt his side brush up against Taylor’s.
It was funny, how everything—the doubts, the anxieties, the worries—seemed to quiet when he was with Taylor.
“I’m good with that,” Rocco said. “I can be spontaneous.”
“Not me, but I can try,” Taylor said wryly.
“Hey, you’re doing pretty good so far,” Rocco said, even though he really wasn’t. He handed Taylor an empty snow globe. “Let’s make some ornaments.”
“What am I supposed to do?” Taylor sent him a beseeching look. “I was too busy panicking that I fucked everything up, I didn’t really listen to Griff.”
“Panicking that you fucked everything up and staring at me like I had pizza smeared across my face,” Rocco corrected.
Taylor laughed. “Yeah, yeah, uh, that’s it.”
“You’re gonna fill your globe with snow,” Rocco instructed, shaking his own. “Then we’re going to make it look all cool.”
“That I can do. Or at least I can try.”
Rocco reached out and squeezed his forearm. Ignored how good it felt under his fingers. “You got this,” he promised.
They spent the next hour finishing their ornaments, Rocco carefully writing the year and Christmas Falls on his, so he’d never forget his first ornament since moving to town.
“I can’t wait to hang this on my tree. It’s full of all these incredibly generic ornaments,” Rocco said as he shook his snow globe and watched as the white flakes showered down over his buildings.
He’d attempted to construct a replica of Blitzen Street, with Jolly Java at the center.
“I love yours,” Taylor said earnestly. “That’s Jolly Java, in the middle, isn’t it?”
Rocco nodded. “At my parents’ restaurant, they had this old tree they put up every year, and it was full of ornaments they’d bought on trips, that I’d made in school, even ornaments our regulars brought us. It was full of memories. Looking at mine last night . . .it was just depressing.”
“At least you have a tree up. I keep meaning to get out to the farm—Bruce set a tree aside for me, as a favor—but I’ve been so busy at work. It feels like there’s always a hundred fires to put out during festival season.”
Rocco felt guilty, instantly. Here he’d been all upset that it had been days since their first “date” and Taylor hadn’t texted him or called, but of course he had big, important things he needed to take care of for his job.
Rocco might frame his job as important—after all, keeping people caffeinated was vital to the happiness of the town—but Taylor’s job helped keep the town actually running.
“Oh yeah.” Rocco felt so awkward. “Maybe tomorrow?”
“Yeah, I hope so. Have you heard about this Secret Santa?”
Rocco shook his head. “There’s a real-life Secret Santa in town? Who is it?”
“Nobody knows. That’s the problem. They’re doing a hell of a lot of good, already, but I’ve gotten probably a dozen phone calls about it and even more emails. Everyone wants to know if it’s something the town’s doing and I have to keep telling them no.”
“Let me guess, they don’t believe you.”
“No. Not after the graffiti last year. They just think we’re pretending we’re not involved, but honestly, we’re just as much in the dark as everyone else.”
“Well, if they’re doing good . . .” Rocco trailed off.
“They sure are, but ugh, it’s added some to my plate, that’s for sure.”
“What does the mayor think?”
“Oh, she loves it. Not surprisingly.” Taylor chuckled. “Between that and fitting in more of these events because Mona thought it would be helpful, it’s been crazy. But it has helped. I’ve definitely had an opportunity to talk to a few city council members.”
“That’s great, Taylor,” Rocco said, meaning it. “Did you finally meet your competitor?”
“Ugh, no. I keep missing him. Maybe that’s for the best.” Taylor made a face.
“Maybe I’d say something I couldn’t take back.
Something that isn’t very advisable. But I keep hearing stuff about Steve Mills.
How he fronts about how much he cares about Christmas Falls, but then turns around and does some shit that proves he couldn’t possibly. ”
“That sucks.” Rocco put a hand on Taylor’s back and told himself he didn’t enjoy how it felt—the way he tensed and then relaxed under his touch—and then let his fingers linger. Just because, damnit, he wanted to. “But we’re going to make sure you get this job.”
Taylor flushed, ducking his head a little. “You’re kind of the best,” he admitted in a low voice.
So low that nobody else probably heard him.
And Rocco realized, as he was walking home ten minutes later, that his comment hadn’t been for the public; it had been just for Rocco alone.