Page 1 of Cherry on Top

Chapter One

Will Johnson ignored the ache in the small of his back, the inevitable pinch in his most comfortable sneakers, the sticky smear of half-congealed milkshake on his arm, and smiled at the customer in front of him.

Maybe it should’ve been hard, but actually, it was the easiest thing in the world. He loved this town, this new life, and most of all, the fact that it was his name above the door, his name printed on the napkins and on the menu, and that he controlled all of it. Finally.

Of course, this particular customer strained some of that happiness, but it was still easier than he’d ever imagined to smile at her and mean it.

“Welcome to Cherry’s,” he said. “What can I get you?”

“Oh, Will,” Giana Moretti said, shooting him her family’s trademark charming smile, “I forget how beautiful the store is and then I walk in and I’m just blown away all over again.”

It was practically a crime not to smile at Giana when she smiled at you, especially like that. But by now he knew a smile was only the beginning.

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Kate, his manager and one of his three employees, wincing, as Giana reached out and put a hand on his arm.

The arm smeared with milkshake, no less.

But that didn’t deter her, because in the two months Cherry’s had been open, Will had learned that almost nothing deterred Giana Moretti.

“Thanks,” he said. “What can I get you today, Giana?” Hoping that maybe this visit would be more straightforward than the last two. Like maybe Giana would order an ice cream cone or a sundae or a milkshake and then give him that big Moretti smile right before she walked back out of his door.

But if he’d been a betting man, he’d have lost.

“Oh, Will, you know exactly what you can get me,” she said, a knowing light brightening her dark eyes. “And it’s not some of your delicious ice cream.”

“Unfortunately that’s all that’s on the menu today,” he said, softening the blow with one of his own smiles.

I’m not on the menu.

Will could acknowledge that he’d had some overly flirtatious customers through his many years working in food service, but he’d never had one who wanted what Giana wanted.

Not a date for her. But for her son.

“Oh, what can it hurt?” she questioned. “You just text him—you kids are always texting, Luca tries to tell me why but I don’t listen.” She waved her hand, like she was dismissing her nephew’s explanation in real time. “Enzo’s such a nice boy, Will. Handsome and so smart. A wonderful painter.”

Will struggled to keep a straight face. “I’m sure he is,” he said. “But you know how busy I am getting this place going.” And this very handsome and smart son, who’s a wonderful painter, isn’t even here in Indigo Bay.

Not that he’d been tempted to take the number anyway. It was too weird and he was not desperate enough for a date to let Giana Moretti deploy her matchmaking tactics on him.

She still claimed that she’d been instrumental in pairing Luca, her nephew, up with the town baker, Oliver Billings. Of course, Luca and Oliver had something else to say about how their relationship had begun.

“Life is not work, Will,” Giana said very seriously. “I tell Enzo this all the time. He works too hard.” She brightened. “Something else you have in common!”

Will had lost count of how many things he and Enzo apparently shared.

This was only the last one in a long line.

“Ah, well. That’s . . .uh . . .good.”

“You know my nephew?” Giana asked archly.

Will definitely knew Luca Moretti. He owned two businesses in this town and shared another with his husband, Oliver.

Maybe Will had only been here in town for six months, but he liked to think they’d become his friends, too.

Her voice dropped and she leaned in. Will wished someone else would come in and actually order something, so he could pawn her off. But the door stayed stubbornly closed. “You know how handsome Luca is. Enzo is even more handsome.”

Will lost the fight with himself and winced, too. “He is,” he agreed, even though he very much wanted to lie and say no, nobody would ever look twice at Luca Moretti.

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