Page 28 of Cherry on Top

“It’s my tuxedo milkshake,” Will said proudly.

“Oh, that’s a good one,” Joy said. “Even though I’m very partial to the coffee bean flavor.”

“Tell me,” Enzo demanded as he picked up the long silver spoon, not sure where he should start. Where the bliss should begin.

“Dark chocolate swirl, vanilla bean milkshake, topped with a tuxedo brownie and whipped cream. And of course, a cherry.”

“Love the little bow tie. It’s adorable.”

“The best part,” Joy agreed. “It’s all in the details, and you get that, Will.”

Will flushed, making him look even more attractive. Or maybe that was the decadent ice cream masterpiece he’d just brought Enzo. “Thanks. It is called the tuxedo,” he said.

“I don’t even know where to start,” Enzo said, his spoon hesitating over the top of the whipped cream swirl.

“How do you start a mural?” Will answered Enzo’s question with one of his own. “I’m gonna assume you just have to start. Doesn’t really matter where.”

Enzo dug his spoon into the whipped cream and then lower, digging out some of the melty-vanilla-ice-cream goodness, and groaned a little when he put it in his mouth. For anyone who felt like vanilla was overrated, clearly they’d never had really good vanilla bean ice cream, with the little flecks of seed, the taste rich and nutty on his tongue. And then there was the deep, dark chocolate ganache ribboning the edge of the glass.

“This is fucking delicious,” Enzo said, through a mouthful of ice cream. He plucked out the brownie, his teeth sinking into the perfect chewy texture, flecked with chunks of chocolate.

Will smiled, looked very pleased. “Glad you like it.”

“I love it. Please tell me all your ice cream is this good.”

Will didn’t need to tell him, because Enzo already knew it had to be.

“It is,” Joy said.

But Will only shrugged, flushing again in a very cute, self-deprecating way. “I do pretty well,” he said.

But from the number of people streaming in and out of his shop, it was clear he did more than “pretty well.”

“As for the murals . . .I usually start with an idea. In this case, your idea.”

Did he actually want to paint the de facto Indigo Bay story? He’d have said before today that there was no way. And yet, doubt had begun to wiggle in. He’d stood there, in front of the wall, and he couldn’t deny it had talked to him, the way blank walls tended to do before he created something really special.

Who was he to ignore the call of inspiration?

“What happens after that?” Will sounded genuinely interested, which was surprising. Most people were only interested in the beginning and the end.

“Then I do a loose sketch, make sure the layout works for the wall, and then, depending on the project, a more detailed sketch. But for this? I’ll probably keep it simple.” Enzo finished the brownie in two delectable bites. “Did you bake this? Or do you get these from Oliver?”

A bright wash of pink crept up Will’s neck and cheeks but this time he didn’t look adorable, he looked perturbed. “No, no. Of course not.”

“Oh. Well, I didn’t know you were a baking genius as well as an ice cream prodigy. My apologies.” Enzo grinned at him, hoping that it would smooth things over.

“Oliver actually told him he wanted his recipe,” Joy said. She was glancing between the two of them, and Enzo was afraid that when this evening was over and she reported back to Giana—because there was no question she’d demand to know about this visit—his mom would be more determined than ever to see them paired up.

“You should put make that your slogan,” Enzo advised. “This town worships Oliver’s baked goods.”

“For good reason,” Will said.

Joy nodded, agreeing. “It’s a family tradition.”

“Share another one with me,” Enzo said, forcing himself to turn away from Will’s beautiful flush, towards Joy. “Tell me the story.”

“You’re sure?” Joy asked.

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