Page 48 of Cherry on Top

Will glanced up and Rocco was standing in front of their booth again, a basket of cheese straws in his hands.

“I hardly believed you before,” Rocco continued, “but this now, looks damn good. Like you’re about to start making out, damn the gossips.”

“I . . .uh . . .” Will stammered as Rocco set the cheese straws onto the table. Afraid that Rocco was a little more right than he wanted to admit.

“It’s okay. It’s hot. I love it.” Rocco winked at them. “Enjoy these. I’ll be out in a few with your food.”

Ironically, after Rocco was actually convinced was when Enzo shot back half an inch. He took a long sip of wine, and Will decided that might not be a bad idea for him, too. And was pleasantly surprised by the rich taste coating his tongue.

“This is really good,” Will said, gesturing with his glass.

“Luca’s a genius with wine. Could’ve probably been a sommelier but where’d he find the time?” Enzo shrugged. “That’s what he should’ve done instead of playacting at starting a gelateria.”

“What?” Will couldn’t believe what Enzo had just offhandedly claimed. Will was in the ice cream business so he understood exactly what Enzo had revealed. In the United States, they had ice cream parlors. In Italy, they had gelato and gelaterias.

“You didn’t know?” Enzo took a closer look at his face. “Oh man, you didn’t know.”

“How serious were they?” Will didn’t want to apologize for opening Cherry’s, but he respected and admired Luca and Oliver enough that the last thing he’d have wanted was to step on their toes.

“It wasn’t that serious. They talked about it a lot.” Enzo waved a hand. “But honestly, they’re much happier that you opened Cherry’s, instead. At least Oliver is. He’d never see his husband if Luca did everything he wanted to.”

“Oh. Well.” Will squirmed uncomfortably on the bench seat until Enzo’s hand clamped down on his thigh. And that was both distracting and arousing enough he stopped wiggling.

“I promise you, it’s fine. Everyone’s happier that you did it, instead.”

“If you say so,” Will said. Wanting to believe Enzo was right. Worried he was not. He’d need to talk to Luca himself. Make sure they were indeed as good as he’d believed they were.

“Trust me,” Enzo said, “if they weren’t happy about Cherry’s, you’d have heard about it. Luca wouldn’t have made friends with you, even if Oliver broke ranks and did it anyway. And you know my mother never would’ve stopped squawking about it.”

That was true about Giana. She was hardly subtle and absolutely incapable of keeping a secret.

“Eat a cheese straw and stop angsting about it,” Enzo encouraged. “I want to see you put it in your mouth real slow. Torment me a little. Make me wish we weren’t in the middle of this busy restaurant.”

Will laughed, because what else was he supposed to do? It was impossible to be faced with such an incorrigible request and not be amused by it.

“Worried about my gag reflex?” Will joked.

“Not in the least,” Enzo said with relish. “Especially not after you stick that whole pastry into your mouth.”

Chapter Ten

It was the strangest date of Enzo’s life, and, also, surprisingly, the most fun he’d ever had on one.

There were no expectations, no danger zones, no concerns about saying or doing the wrong thing, no awkwardness. It all dissolved in the headiness of doing and saying the most outrageous thing Enzo could come up with. Daring Will to do the same.

By the time they’d come to the end of the meal, his stomach hurt from laughing so hard and his cock was aching in his jeans. If he’d thought Will was gorgeous and wonderful before tonight, he was viscerally aware of it now.

Undeniably convinced that if he’d actually been sticking around Indigo Bay, he’d take this man to the Inn, press him back against one of those columns lining the porch, and give him a goodnight kiss either of them would forget anytime soon.

But he wasn’t staying and this wasn’t real.

The thought was a bucketful of cold water metaphorically dumped all over his desire—but it didn’t douse it entirely.

Maybe that was the shy, almost ashamed way Will’s gaze flicked to his. The real truth lingering there, that he couldn’t hide entirely, no matter how outrageous their nicknames were.

Enzo had made a big deal of paying for their dinner. Of saying loudly they were going to go take a romantic walk through the park, under the stars. Rocco had rolled his eyes a bit, but the way Will tucked his hand trustingly into Enzo’s and the faint flush across his cheekbones from the wine—and maybe everything else—made it all feel a little too real.

They were meandering through the park now, Enzo keeping half his brain on the statue of Eliza and half his brain on Will’s warm hand tucked into his own.

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