4. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

Enzo's temper was still hot when he walked into Luca and Oliver's house for dinner.

When he'd first turned around and seen the guy, he'd felt an immediate jolt.

First, attraction. That much was easy to understand. The guy was freaking gorgeous—built big and brawny, with messy blond hair a few weeks past needing a cut, piercing blue eyes, and a tan that tight white shirt accentuated to perfection.

Then, annoyance.

How could anyone believe that he , Enzo freaking Moretti, was painting graffiti? Enzo still didn't understand how that misunderstanding had happened.

"You've been quiet all night," Oliver said, nudging him.

Enzo had a feeling Oliver had been waiting to bring up his crap mood until his mom had ducked out for a Fourth of July planning meeting at Joy Billings' B&B. Then Luca had followed, claiming he needed to deal with a problem at the restaurant.

"Yeah, you have," Rocco agreed, as he leaned back in one of the teal blue Adirondack chairs dotting Luca and Oliver's patio. "You kept glaring at the chicken piccata like it did something to insult you."

"I just . . ."

"Hate being back here?" Oliver inserted with a raised eyebrow. "I know." He gave Enzo a commiserating glance.

It was almost funny to remember a time when he'd had the world's stupidest crush on Oliver Billings.

He'd been an ass back then. A mess of hormones and frustration with no outlet and then the one chance Oliver had given him had gone terribly and he hadn't taken that well, either.

When Luca had come to town and he and Oliver had fallen in love, Enzo had begun to understand just how much all of that was his fault, and before he'd left for San Francisco, he'd apologized and began to mend the rift between them.

It hadn't been easy or quick but slowly, they'd become friends.

Oliver would've been impossible to avoid as his cousin's husband, especially after he and Luca had become close, but Enzo liked to think he and Oliver had a friendship entirely their own, in-law status notwithstanding.

"It's not being back here, actually," Enzo said. "I've been here less than twenty-four hours. Hard to be miserable, already."

"Then what's up?" Rocco asked, a frown creasing his tanned forehead. "It's not Auntie, is it?"

Giana was not Rocco's aunt, but he liked to call her that, and to Enzo's surprise, Giana actually liked it, and even kept harassing Luca to join in. But Luca would only shoot Giana a look and pretend he hadn't heard her teasing entreaties.

"No." Enzo huffed out a frustrated sigh. "You two don't know anything about the guy who owns the old hardware store, do you? I think it's called Cherry's?"

He'd wanted to ask his mother, because she was the one who'd arranged the mural in the first place, but Enzo knew her well enough to understand, even through his frustration and anger, that there had to be a reason why she hadn't decided to inform—or even ask— Will about the mural. He wasn't going to head into that particular conversation without being forearmed with at least a guess why.

"You mean Will? Will Johnson?" Oliver looked confused. "Of course we know Will. He's a great guy."

"Hot, too," Rocco teased.

Oliver shot his young cousin a fond glare. "He's not interested, Rocco. You know that."

"Doesn't mean I can't fantasize," Rocco insisted.

Oliver rolled his eyes.

Enzo didn't need his cousin to tell him how hot Will Johnson was.

"Is it possible that neither of you know that Giana arranged for me to paint a mural on the side of his building?"

Enzo got his answer when Oliver looked surprised and Rocco downright shocked. "I know Luca mentioned it," Oliver said slowly. "Not that you were painting Will's building, but that you were going to paint one while you were here. I thought the location was still up in the air."

"It's not," Enzo said. Though maybe after Will's reaction—and then his reaction to Will's reaction—it was now.

"Well, that's surprising," Oliver said bluntly. "I saw Will the other day and he didn't say anything about it."

"Because I don't think Giana told him," Enzo said.

Rocco laughed.

Maybe Enzo would've found it equally funny if he hadn't been all butt hurt about Will's graffiti accusations and then reverted back to his teenage form. Acting way too much like the stuck-up prick that he'd been before he'd ever left Indigo Bay.

"Ouch," Oliver said softly. "Let me guess, you found out that info—both of you found out that info—in the worst possible way."

Enzo nodded. "I knew on my way here for dinner I'd pass the building, so I thought I'd take a look at it. Test some paint on the brick. He caught me. Accused me of painting his building with graffiti."

"Ouch," Rocco said this time. "Were you your normal charming self?"

Enzo winced and figured that was enough of an answer.

"I know how hard he worked to get all the old graffiti off that building," Oliver said slowly. "It took him a solid week. I told him it was a waste of time, but he refused to listen. Said he wasn't going to let some punk kids win."

"And then he thought you were one of those punk kids," Rocco said, chuckling.

"Yeah."

"Ouch," Oliver said for the third time and when Enzo made a face, Oliver shot him an apologetic look. "I know I keep saying it, but it applies. Will's really nice."

"And hot, too," Rocco added, again.

Enzo had been trying not to think about that particular fact, but it was hard when Rocco kept bringing it up.

"But I can see how that probably hit him the wrong way," Oliver continued, only shooting Rocco a quick glare over his interruption.

"I bet you were pissed because you showed up all big shot artist and he accused you of vandalism," Rocco said.

"It . . .it could've gone better," Enzo agreed.

"What could've gone better?" Luca asked, pushing open the glass door between the house and the patio.

"Everything okay?" Oliver asked his husband as he leaned in, dropping a kiss on the top of his head.

"Yeah, I just had to grab another three-gallon bucket of vanilla bean from Oliver. Someone left it too close to the freezer door—you know the spot—and it got weird and crystallized. Thawed and then re-froze a few times." Then Luca grinned, soft and earnest in a way he'd never been when he'd first come here. "But the good news was I got Will to give us a few pints for dessert." He set a paper bag, white and striped with the same bright cherry pink as the new awning over the old hardware store, on the table between their chairs.

"Speaking of Will," Oliver said, "Enzo met him tonight."

"Oh?" Luca opened the bag and began passing out little cardboard pints, all printed in that same distinctive pink and white stripe.

"You know how Giana told you Enzo's painting a mural while he's here? Apparently it's Will's building and she didn't bother to ask him."

Luca glanced over at Enzo as he handed him a container and a spoon. "I'd heard that," he said carefully. "From Will himself. Ouch."

"Can everyone stop saying that?" Enzo complained.

"And Will totally thought Enzo was painting graffiti on the side of his building," Rocco added.

"Ouch," Luca repeated, shooting Enzo an apologetic smile.

"Clearly I'm gonna have to apologize." He didn't sound happy about it, because he wasn't happy about it.

"I kinda think that should be Auntie," Rocco said.

"Oh, she will," Enzo promised darkly. "But I will, too. I just want to know before I talk to her—before I talk to Will— why would she do that?"

Oliver shot him a commiserating glance as he popped the lid off his ice cream and made a satisfied noise. "Rocco already told you why," Oliver said, then turned to Luca. "You got me the tuxedo," he said, giving him the kind of gooey smile that would've made Enzo crazy with jealousy five years ago, but only made him glad his cousin had found someone so good to love now.

"Of course I did. The rest of us got a flavor Will says he's trying out. Cherry Brown Butter Brickle. So feedback's welcome."

The cardboard was slippery and cold against his hand, but Enzo didn't open it yet. "What do you mean?" he asked Oliver.

"He's gorgeous," Oliver said, words muffled by ice cream. "Don't tell me you didn't notice while he was about to have you hauled off for vandalism and you got all up in your ego about it?"

"I noticed," Enzo huffed.

"Right. Well. Think of why your mother might've neglected to inform both of you of your soon-to-be-cozy circumstances."

Enzo groaned. "She's trying to pair me up with Will."

"From the moment she met him. She's been salivating at the possibility of big, built blond grandchildren," Luca said with a dark chuckle.

"I didn't think I needed to explain how babies work to you, Luca," Rocco inserted with a teasing glance towards Oliver.

"You know what I mean," Luca said, waving away his cousin's joke. "She wants Will for you, and you for Will. That's the best guess I've got why she didn't tell you . Why she didn't tell Will? No idea."

"Kate mentioned she'd been in a few times to the ice cream parlor, talking about Enzo to Will. Who, of course, had no idea what the fuck to make of her pushiness. She was probably worried he'd move out of town if he realized what she'd done. Or maybe she was thinking she'd spring you on him like a gift, or something."

"Or something," Enzo said morosely. "She was really doing that?"

"You can't be that surprised," Luca said. He gestured towards the softening cardboard in his hand. "Eat your ice cream. It'll make you feel better."

"I don't know that it will." He was not only annoyed now, he was embarrassed.

"Will's ice cream solves all problems," Rocco promised.

Enzo almost said, if it was anyone but Will's ice cream, it might , but he opened the container anyway and dug his spoon in.

The ice cream looked normal, like ice cream did. Under the strings of lights crisscrossing the patio, it shone a beautiful pale yellow, with bright red streaks through it. The cherries, Enzo assumed.

But when he put that first spoonful in his mouth, he understood that everything he'd ever believed about ice cream was wrong.

That had been flavored skim milk, with emphasis on skim , and not on flavor .

This was what ice cream really was. Deep and rich, with the fattiness of the butter and the cream on his tongue. It was sweet, but not too sweet, but also shockingly nutty, the sweet-sour of the cherry brickle breaking up the richness.

Enzo might've moaned.

"See?" Rocco said knowingly.

"Damn," Enzo said. "I might marry him for this ice cream."

Rocco laughed. "Don't you dare let Auntie hear you say that."

"Remember when you brought me that bittersweet chocolate with Valencia orange peel home?" Luca's voice went wistful. "And then you insisted I share it?"

"Even after I'd eaten half a pint of coconut macaron? Oh, I remember it."

"It's less than ten minutes' walk from Cherry's to your house. How did you eat half a pint of ice cream?" Enzo asked. Though he was beginning to comprehend the magic of Will's ice cream.

"If you'd ever eaten the coconut macaron, you'd understand," Oliver said.

"What I still don't understand is why I'm supposed to share mine , but you have your own?" Luca joked.

Oliver shot Enzo a conspiratorial glance. "That's marriage for you. What's his is mine. And what's mine is mine."

Luca made a frustrated noise, but Enzo thought that even if that was actually true of their marriage, he had a feeling Luca would still commit to it one hundred out of one hundred times.

"And everyone's surprised why I'm not eager to settle down." Enzo believed Luca and Oliver were meant for each other, but that didn't mean he wanted that kind of life-changing love for himself. He was very happy with his life now, thank you very much.

And God , the idea that Will believed that he needed his mother to get him dates?

A fresh wave of humiliation washed over Enzo.

Especially because, as Rocco had been so eager to volunteer more than once, Will was no-question-about-it, undeniably hot.

"Nobody expects you to settle down. You're making bank and living such an exciting life, a new city every few months," Oliver said, patting his arm.

"Just Giana," Luca said dryly. "You know that was part of Will's attraction. He's here ."

"I'm not moving back home," Enzo said firmly.

"We know that," Oliver said gently. "But Giana might be still holding out hope."

"Maybe I need to come back here more often," Enzo theorized.

Rocco shot him a look. "If you did that, Auntie might lock you in a closet with Will."

"Listen, I'll talk to her," Luca said.

It was just like Luca to want to intervene. To use his position as de facto head of the Morettis to take care of Enzo's problem. Luca had been taking care of everyone's problems forever. Enzo thought in some kind of sick way, he actually enjoyed doing it.

But Enzo shook his head. He was a grown adult now. He didn't need Luca's help. "No. No. I'll talk to her, and I'll talk to Will."

"In which order?" Rocco teased.

Oliver smacked him. "Let your cousin alone. It's bad enough that his own mother is making his life harder. You don't need to add to it, too."

"Fine, fine," Rocco said, with a resigned expression crossing his face. "I'll leave them alone."

"Good."

"I would like to paint the mural, still," Enzo said. "Giana wasn't wrong about the location or the building. It's an ideal spot. But I guess I'll have to convince Will now."

"Maybe smooth it over with him first and then yell at Giana," Luca suggested. "That way she can't . . .well, interfere worse ."

That was Enzo's plan. "Then maybe she won't imagine me ‘smoothing it over' means something else."

"Don't tell me you didn't consider it, even for a minute," Rocco said. "She could've been doing you a favor. Laying some important groundwork."

"Rocco," Oliver warned.

Even though Enzo wouldn't admit it, and definitely not to Rocco, who'd never let him forget it, he had thought about it. For the split second after he'd turned around. When Will had been standing there, dazzling in the dusk, lit by a streetlight. Before he'd accused Enzo of vandalism and before Enzo had decided he'd been horribly insulted by even the insinuation that what he created was the same as defacing someone's building.

Yeah, in that moment, he'd thought it. Had thought Will was freaking gorgeous, and even wondered why he'd wasted so much time not coming home when there was someone who looked like him in Indigo Bay.

"Maybe Will's not Enzo's type," Luca said.

"Are you kidding? Will's everyone's type. All you need is eyes." Rocco stood, stretching out his long, lean body. He was another chip off the Moretti block, and Enzo could see shades of his own face and also Luca's in Rocco's sculpted cheekbones and dark eyes. "But don't worry, cousin," he said, leaning down and giving Enzo a quick hug. "I'm not gonna move in on your guy. Oliver's right. He's not right for me. I just like looking. Now, I'm gotta take off. I've got an early shift at the bakery."

Oliver nodded absently. He was holding hands with Luca, and Luca was leaning over, murmuring something in his ear.

Enzo almost begged Rocco to stay. That he didn't want to be left alone with all this love in the air. That he was afraid it might be catching.

But that would be ridiculous.

He could spend some time with his cousin and his husband without wanting to crawl out of his skin.

Or without thinking about Will.

Or about Giana's plans for Will.