Page 60 of Flake It Til You Make It

“I’ll take good care of it,” Rocco promised.

Harvey smiled. “Of course you will.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to put it in . . .some kind of protective . . .”

Harvey shook his head. “It’s history, sure, but it’slivinghistory, Rocco. And I know you won’t be careless.”

“I haven’t been here long enough for you to know that.” But Rocco was smiling, too, Harvey’s trust a balm for the remainder of the hurt he’d felt after Taylor had kissed him.

“You’ve been here long enough to know the town gossip mill is robust enough to tell us everything we need to know,” Harvey said, winking. “Pumpkin spice notwithstanding.”

“Well, that’s really nice of you,” Rocco said. “And if anyone asks, itisback.”

“I’ll make sure to tell anyone who asks,” Harvey said with a firm nod. “Anything else I can help you with?”

“Nope,” Rocco said. He couldn’t deny it; he was excited to be able to look through the cookbook and see if there was anything he could use.

“Awesome. If you need anything else, don’t hesitate to swing by,” Harvey said.

“I definitely won’t,” Rocco said.

A few minutes later, he was walking back to Jolly Java, the cookbook burning in his hands. He stepped inside the coffee shop, made sure that Rebecca didn’t need any help, grabbed a coffee and his notebook and then settled at a table in the corner.

He was about two thirds of the way through the book, deep into the dessert section, making notes and jotting down ideas and page numbers, when he saw it.

Rocco froze.

It could be a coincidence but he knew, deep down, that it wasn’t.

The almond cookie recipe by Teresa Hall had to be from Taylor’s mom, and these had to be the same cookies he’d talked about her baking. The cookies that had given him that sweet-pained look deep in his eyes when he’d tasted Rocco’s marzipan latte.

Rocco looked up. Knowing what he should do, even though he wasn’t sure he wanted to get his ass kicked again by the universe.

“If you really think so,” he told it. “But I’m not so sure.”

That was a lie though. Hewassure. He wouldn’t have been so fucking disappointed by the aftermath of their kiss if he wasn’t sure. If he wasn’t convinced, deep down, in a place he couldn’t deny even if he wanted to, that Taylor was someone special.

That he wanted Taylor to be someone specialto him.

“You talking to yourself out there?” Rebecca asked.

“Sort of,” Rocco said wryly. “To the universe. To fate. Maybe even to Taylor.”

Rebecca approached his table and made a face. “Are you finally gonna talk to him?”

He’d not been able to hide his post-kiss bad mood from her, so he’d admitted they’d had a little hiccup and he was giving himself some space from the guy.

She’d been supportive but also said that she thought she’d never seen him happier than when he was with Taylor.

And that was the kicker, wasn’t it?

It was true.

“Yeah,” Rocco said and picked up one of the schedule flyers he’d shoved into his notebook, noting next weekend’s events, then pulled his phone from his pocket.

Up for some Carol-oke this weekend?he texted Taylor.

He didn’t say anything about the kiss. What else was there to say about it, other than he desperately wanted to do it again? And this time have it mean something?

---