Page 23 of Flake It Til You Make It

Repetition helped him answer their questions better, but it was still undeniably awkward.

More than once, he’d been tempted to text Rocco and ask if he’d had a similar level of interest—and if they’d detoured to Jolly Java, buying coffee and scones and muffins, to do it.

Maybe just thethoughtof them dating had been enough to get Rocco back into everyone’s good graces.

But then, that wouldn’t fix Taylor’s problem.

And you wouldn’t get to hang out with him, and you want to. Even if you don’t want to admit it.

He did.

He could barely think it without a blaringgoat cheeseaccompanying the thought, but that had only turned into amusing punctuation, not even a deterrent.

By the time the wine tasting rolled around, he’d avoided actually texting Rocco, but Rocco had texted him twice.

Once to confirm they’d be meeting there, and another, just a minute ago, telling Taylor he was running slightly behind.

Taylor had read the first one—a fairly straightforward exchange—and the second, even though it had only just come in, more times than he wanted to admit to.

This is not a real date.

But it felt like a real date.

Then he heard footsteps behind him, and turned, andyeah, he’d felt this way the last time he’d been on a first date. That sharp wave of exhilaration and terror surging through him, though then it hadn’t been nearly as strong as it was now, faced with a Rocco Moretti trying to make a good impression.

Or maybe he always cleaned up this good.

His hair was curling around his head in a dark halo, his cheekbones carved out of his face, brown eyes hot as they took in Taylor standing there, under the streetlight.

He wore a black wool peacoat, with a maroon scarf wrapped around his neck, and a pair of form-fitting black jeans and dark boots.

Goat cheese,Taylor thought dazedly.All the goat cheese.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Rocco said breathlessly.

Taylor thought,I’d wait a hell of a lot longer for you. But he didn’t say that, because nobody was here, and there was no point in saying anything sappy and romantic when they didn’t have an audience. That was the whole idea behind this charade.

“It’s fine,” Taylor said. “You ready to go in?”

“Oh yeah,” Rocco said.

Taylor gestured towards the door, and with his late mother’s voice admonishing him in his head to be a gentleman, he pressed a palm to Rocco’s firm, warm back.

Felt his muscles tense under his touch and then relax.

“So,” Rocco asked under his breath as they walked in, “how does this work?”

“You’re asking me? I’ve no idea. Never been to this event before.”

It looked fairly straightforward though. The main dining room of The White Elephant had been rearranged, the tables in a half-moon shape, with different bottles of wine scattered across the surfaces.

“Hello,” Elaine Watson said as they approached the main table. She managed The White Elephant for Kody Campbell, who’d taken over from his parents. “I didn’t know you two were coming tonight.”

That was a lie. He’d emailed her himself, making sure they were both on the list, and instead of merely emailing him back his confirmation, Elaine had called him up on his official line, asking half a dozen leading questions that she didn’t really need the answer to.

He liked Elaine, had always liked her, but he discovered hedidn’tlike the intense interest in what the two of them were doing here together.

Wasn’t itobvious?

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