Page 18 of Cherry on Top

“How did you know how I liked my coffee?” Will asked, changing the subject. To something safer than how he looked. Before he lost his head and asked Enzo if he liked looking, as much as he liked looking back.

“This is Indigo Bay. It’s a really freaking small town. I could find out anything about anyone, easy as breathing,” Enzo said, waving the question away. “Do you like it? Is it right? Rocco said it would be.”

“Weirdly, yes,” Will said, taking another long sip. “Thanks.”

Enzo finished his coffee. Tossed it in one of the large square trashcans behind the counter. “Am I forgiven then?”

“Is that why you’re here?”

Will was sure he was here to apologize and to convince Will to let him paint the mural.

On his way back to the Inn after closing, he’d stopped by the wall. Found the paint gone. No evidence that Enzo had even been there.

The moment he’d finished cleaning the wall, Will had loved it exactly the way it was. But he’d looked at it last night and had thought, just for a second, that maybe it was a little too big and too blank.

He’d intended to tell Enzo no, firmly and definitely.

But now he wasn’t quite sure.

“You know why I’m here.” There was no question Enzo knew how to charm. The same way he knew how to lean against the back counter, that gorgeous body on display, as he flashed another of those devastating smiles.

Maybe it shouldn’t have but it made Will grumpier.

You didn’t enjoy being hungry while forced to stare at something delicious—especially when you couldn’t possibly take a bite out of it.

“You want to paint the mural,” Will stated. He didn’t want to mess around.

Okay. He did, but he wasn’t going to. Enzo wasn’t staying, and that was enough, without all the other Giana-shaped considerations.

“I didn’t, actually. That was all my mom’s idea. But then I saw your wall, and I hate to tell you, but it’s perfect.”

“It should be. I spent a whole freaking week cleaning shit off it.”

“I bet you did,” Enzo said. “I usually have to do that work. But you’ve already done it.”

“What are you going to paint on it?” Will asked.

“Uh.” Enzo hesitated. “I don’t know actually. My clients . . .that’s usually something they concede to me.”

Will stared at him. “Let me get this straight. They pay you to paint a mural on their building, but you get to decide what it is.”

Enzo winced. “Yeah. I . . .well, I’ve learned that’s the best way for me to work. And the demand is there, so it made sense for me to make it a requirement.”

It was beginning to make more sense why Will’s graffiti accusation had bothered Enzo so much. Of course, Will had already begun to see why. Last night, when he’d opened Enzo’s Instagram, and not only had the follower number taken him aback, but the undeniable artistry of his work.

You should just let him do it.

But what if he ended up with something he hated?

Will was so proud of Cherry’s, of finally having something he could claim as his, something he had worked so hard to carve out.

He wasn’t about to cede any part of it to someone else.

“No,” Will said.

“No?” Enzo lifted a dark eyebrow.

“No, you don’t get to decide what you’re painting on my wall.”

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