Better latte than never, p.2
Better Latte Than Never, page 2
It didn’t open.
She crossed her arms. “Damn it.”
“Told you. Today of all days,” one of the twins said. She had finished putting the balloons around the room and stood back with her sister.
“Let me put this cake down.”
“I’ll take it.”
“What about the presents?”
Their voices all melded together, and that’s when the door opened and this famous Enzo walked in.
Finn stood with the others and shouted, “Happy Birthday!” For a moment he couldn’t make anything out other than a shadow in the doorway, the light from outside shining all around the figure like a halo. Then Enzo strode into the room, and Finn could finally see what he looked like.
At first Finn could only make out someone tall and lanky, with legs that went on forever in loose faded jeans. There was a mop of blond hair with a streak of green. And then Enzo turned in Finn’s direction and smiled, a bright crooked grin that turned up at one corner, revealing a dimple in his chin and making the edges of his eyes crinkle. Those lips were perfect and pink, and made Finn think of things he shouldn’t.
An irrational spike of fear shuddered through him. Oh no. He’s hot.
Chapter 3
I shouldn’t be doing this. Despite his misgivings, Enzo handed over his credit card to the cashier who’d finished ringing up his massive haul from Parallel, the local art supply store. Parallel only had this sale twice a year, which meant he needed to be strategic when stocking up on supplies.
The doubt had nothing to do with the number on the cash register display, although that was pretty significant considering his budget. That was future Enzo’s problem. He wouldn’t have to worry about that until the bill showed up in his inbox in about a month.
“Excuse me,” the customer behind him tapped on his shoulder. “Would any of those paints you got be good for a young girl just getting into painting?”
He turned to face the speaker, an elderly woman holding her own shopping basket. She had silver and white hair, and like always, he thought how he’d mix the paints to achieve the unique color, the light lilac undertone to the silver contrasting with the greenish bits of the white. He’d use his palette knife to mimic the texture of her curls, making her hair the crowning glory of the portrait.
“I’m sorry, no. These are high quality oil paints and not a good idea for a beginner.” Much too much for his budget, but Enzo couldn’t resist, not at these sale prices.
“Oh. I was looking for something for my granddaughter. She’s ten. Loves to paint. I wanted to surprise her with a gift.”
Enzo pointed down the length of the store. “If you go down aisle nine, they have some starter kits for beginners. I don’t recommend starting out with oil paint at that age. Acrylic might be better.”
She beamed at him. “Oh, thank you! What would you do with oil paints anyway?”
Her question confused him at first. “Um. Make art with them? I paint...” Enzo trailed off, knowing she wasn’t asking for an explanation of his work, of how he mixed portraiture and landscape, or how he fell in love with impasto. She just wanted to know why they wouldn’t be a good fit for her granddaughter.
“Are you an artist?” She seemed excited. “Are you famous?”
He sputtered. “What? Oh, no, not unless you’re on social media.” And even there his follower count was modest.
The cashier took pity on him and very aggressively handed back his credit card. “Thank you. Have a nice day!”
Enzo grabbed his purchases and fled before he got asked any more questions. He seemed to have a knack for attracting old ladies. He probably gave off non-threatening vibes, since he helped so many at the cafe. Speaking of, if he didn’t hurry up, he was going to be late.
He picked up his pace as he stepped out onto the sidewalk. His own fault really. While he’d planned to hit the sale early so he could shop before work, Enzo had lost track of time this morning working on a new piece of art. A new project he ended up painting over at the end since he’d hated every stroke.
It would only end up in storage anyway, along with the rest of his work that couldn’t fit into the rental he shared with Nat. Enzo had tried putting the originals in his online shop, but no one wanted to pay thousands of dollars for the canvases. He’d had better luck with his prints, although he couldn’t make a living on twenty dollar prints.
He was thirty today. The big three-oh. And what did he have to show for it? Still working for his aunt to make rent. Still hustling his art that no one seemed to want. Enzo was tired. The only thing that kept him going was the joy of creating. That’s why despite the cost of art supplies, he wouldn’t stop creating.
At some point, he’d have to give up. Enzo couldn’t keep telling himself this was worth it. He should find a real job. One with health benefits. One he could be proud of if a cute guy asked him what he did. Barista was something to do while waiting for the big break.
Now he felt like shit. His aunt had been good to him, giving him this job after Enzo had his fight with his parents. It wasn’t that he hated working for her. Just that it was time for something more.
One more year, he told himself. If I don’t hit it big this year, I’ll go find a nine to five like Mom and Dad wanted.
Enzo skidded to a stop outside the cafe. He didn’t even have to check his phone to know he was late. He pushed open the door and stopped in his tracks as everyone inside yelled a variation of “Surprise!” or “Happy birthday!”
“Seriously?” Enzo couldn’t help grinning. While he’d guessed his aunt had a cake or something ready for him, he hadn’t expected an impromptu surprise party with their regular customers and...a new guy?
His gaze drifted over the newcomer—dark hair, a friendly smile, and broad shoulders hidden beneath a soft looking sweater. Their eyes met across the room, and the stranger gave him a slow nod and a filthy grin. Enzo felt a zing go through him, a sudden flush of warmth as desire spread through his body. When was the last time he’d made a connection like this across a crowded room?
Enzo swallowed and pushed the impulse down. Surely he was imagining things. He walked over and gave Lydia a one-armed hug, since the other was weighed down with his purchases. “You shouldn’t have.”
She smirked up at him. “Couldn’t let your thirtieth birthday go without a party.”
“No, I mean, you really shouldn’t have.” He didn’t want to hurt his cousin’s feelings, and Enzo wasn’t about to unpack all his misgivings about turning thirty. She was only eighteen; she wouldn’t get it for a while yet. Lydia wasn’t destined to make the same mistakes he had.
“Blow out your candles so we can cut your cake.” Lydia pointed to the flaming baked goodie his aunt currently carried.
He gestured to the back. “Let me set my stuff down.” Enzo didn’t want to risk anything happening to his precious art supplies. He stowed them quickly behind the counter, grabbing his apron as he came back.
Lydia held up her hand, and as if they’d rehearsed, everyone started to sing “Happy Birthday.”
All right. He wasn’t going to be a jerk about it, not when everyone was being so nice. When they finished, Enzo took a bow, and then bent over and blew out all of his candles in one shot.
“Did you make a wish?” New Guy asked.
Enzo looked over to answer, and for a moment was blinded by the guy’s eyes—they were so blue, a brilliant sapphire enhanced by his dark eyelashes.
He’d use cobalt blue for those eyes. Enzo would lay down the color, and then build up the texture, so the pupils would literally pop. Then he’d use flecks of white to highlight the light coming from this stranger’s gaze.
Enzo grinned. “Even if I did, I can’t tell, or it won’t come true.”
I wish I could make it as an artist. That wasn’t such a small thing. But maybe Enzo had to stop waiting for something to happen to him. He had to go out and grab the bull by the balls. Wait, that wasn’t right. Horns, not balls.
“Everyone gets a slice of cake,” Aunt Rosa said, brandishing her slicing knife. One of the twins—Anabell maybe, Enzo had trouble telling them apart when they were wearing matching aprons—stood beside her with plates while the other went and handed out cake to each of the people in the cafe.
Enzo took his cake and licked a stripe of frosting off of the top. Delicious. His aunt was an amazing baker, and he should feel damn lucky she’d gone to all this trouble. He stopped to give her a hug. “Thank you.”
She slapped him on the shoulder. “Anything for my favorite nephew. Now hurry up and get back to work.”
He laughed.
Everyone took their cake and scattered to their respective corners. He knew Dorothy and Grace would resume arguing about something that had happened when they were in their twenties. Man, he wished he could have a lifetime relationship like that, to be able to know someone that long, to be able to fight about something that happened sixty years ago. Tami would go back to enjoying her coffee until the baby woke up and then once the wailing started, she and Scottie would leave with an apologetic glance in his direction. There were a few regulars missing—Zack the guy with the skateboard no matter the weather, and Newspaper Bill who always came with several stacks of newspapers that he proceeded to spread out over the tables and read for hours.
Yeah, the cafe was so damn predictable. Except for this new guy.
Enzo downed his cake and tossed the plate into the trash. He should really square up with his aunt before she left for the day. Still. What if the guy left before Enzo could say anything? He’d make his rounds with the regulars after, but right now, Enzo couldn’t contain his curiosity about the stranger.
He threw on his apron and sauntered over to the corner where the stranger sat half-hidden behind a laptop. If this went wrong, Enzo could claim he’d come over to offer a refill. Not to, you know, see if the guy’s smoldering look when Enzo had walked in the door meant anything.
“Hey.” Enzo cleared his throat. “Thanks for coming to my birthday party.”
The guy looked up from his computer, those gorgeous eyes moving slowly upward in a way that made Enzo want to blush. His jaw was straight and covered with a smattering of stubble. Enzo wanted to rub his hands along it and enjoy the feel of the soft roughness against his fingertips...and in other places. There was an adorable sprinkle of freckles across his sloped nose. But his lips—perfect and pink and a bit too full for a man—were what made Enzo’s thoughts move straight into the gutter.
“It was my pleasure. Enzo, right? I’m Finn.” He held out his hand.
Enzo took it, squeezing tightly. Finn had a firm handshake, but his palm was soft and warm against Enzo’s. When he pulled away, Enzo curled his hand into a fist, wanting to savor that feeling.
“Finn? Is that a nickname?”
“It’s short for Finnegan.”
“Ah, a nice Italian name.” Enzo grinned and, happily, Finn laughed at his joke.
“What brings you to our cafe?” He winced at how terrible that sounded. Apparently Enzo completely forgot how to flirt when it was a customer he thought was hot. He could charm the old ladies like nobody’s business, but a cute guy? Nope.
Finn nodded at his laptop. “Came for the Wi-Fi and stayed for the coffee. And then the surprise party.” He picked up his fork and stabbed the last piece of cake left on his plate. “This cake is amazing.”
“Everything my aunt bakes is amazing.” Enzo watched the bit of chocolate make its way to Finn’s mouth and the sensual way his lips closed around the metal of the fork. That shouldn’t be turning Enzo on right now, but God, if he didn’t want to follow that piece of cake with his own tongue against Finn’s lips.
“So what do you make that’s amazing?” Finn asked with a wink, and that was when Enzo knew they were in business, or at least on the same wavelength.
He could feel the blush creeping up his cheeks. “I don’t bake, but I do brew a mean cup of espresso.”
“I’d love to have a taste.”
“You’ve got—” Enzo gestured to his own face. A smear of chocolate had found its way to Finn’s chin. “Here.” He picked up a napkin from the table and brushed it away.
Finn took the napkin, his fingers tangling with Enzo’s for a moment. His eyes were smoldering. “Thank you.”
Enzo cleared his throat and pulled at the collar of his shirt. Who’d turned up the heat in here? “What are you working on?”
“My book. It’s not behaving.” Finn glared at his laptop. “I’m hoping coming here will help spark...something.”
Enzo opened his mouth to tell Finn exactly what he hoped it would spark when he felt a tug on his sleeve. He looked over to find Scottie had left his mother’s side. The kid seemed to like Enzo. Any time he and his mother visited while Enzo was working, Scottie would trail him around the cafe.
“Enzo, I saw you had your sketchbooks,” he whispered. “Are you going to draw me again?”
Before he could reply, Tami had made it to their side of the room. “Scottie, leave him alone. That was a special occasion!”
Enzo had done caricatures one day as a promo for the cafe. Scottie had loved the little drawing Enzo had done of him as an astronaut. “It’s not a problem. Let me get this gentleman some more coffee first. Are you drinking regular, or would you like to try my espresso?”
“I’d love to try your espresso.” Finn smiled, and for a moment it felt like they were the only two people in the entire cafe.
But Enzo had to get back to work, shattering the illusion. He went behind the counter, quickly chatted with his aunt so she could leave for the day while brewing Finn’s espresso. Then he grabbed his sketchbook and tucked it under his arm before bringing out the coffee.
“Here you go.”
“Thank you. About that drawing you’re going to do?” Finn accepted the cup of coffee but didn’t drink it.
Enzo gestured with his sketchbook. “Oh, it’s nothing. I’m going to make a cartoon for Scottie over there.”
“Mind if I watch? Unless you’re the kind of artist who can’t work while someone is looking at them?”
“You’re procrastinating, aren’t you?” Enzo teased. “Let me guess. Deadline?”
“You have no idea.”
Enzo shook his head. “You can watch if you want. I’m used to it.”
He didn’t mind breaking in a fresh sketchbook for Scottie. The first drawing was always the most important. It set the tone for the rest of the volume. Enzo would rather create something happy on his birthday. With his sour mood today, if it weren’t for Scottie, he might end up doodling something dark and overly dramatic. No, he didn’t want to start out his thirtieth year like that.
Taking a Sharpie from behind the counter, he came back and sat at the table across from Scottie. He made a big show of staring at Scottie and thinking about what he was going to draw, which made the little boy laugh. Then Enzo set to work. It wouldn’t be anything fancy, not when he had to bang this out quick and get back to work. There were espresso machines that needed cleaning.
He became aware, slowly, of someone coming up behind him. Finn. Watching, as Enzo told him he could. It normally didn’t bother him—Enzo had done many of these with a crowd of people around him, waiting for their turn—but something about Finn made him want to do extra well.
On the white page, Scottie became a cowboy waving a lasso around. Enzo captured his big eyes and gap-toothed grin. A giant cowboy hat completed the look.
“Here you go.” He ripped the page out just as Scottie’s sister woke up and started her daily scream fest. Enzo winced.
“I’m so sorry,” Tami muttered as she packed up their things, shoving Scottie’s iPad beneath the stroller and gathering up the garbage on the table.
“Let me help.” Finn came out of nowhere and took care of the half empty orange juice cup and napkins.
Scottie had taken the picture and hugged it to his chest. “It’s awesome.”
“Thanks. Now be good for your mama.”
“He always is.” She touched the back of his head. “Thank you. You too.” She nodded at Finn who stood at the garbage can near the front counter. He smiled and waved at her.
Man, Finn wasn’t just hot, but nice too? Enzo wasn’t used to that. Of course, he never tried meeting nice guys at the clubs. That was never a criterion for one of his hookups. Maybe it should have been.
Enzo shook himself out of it and stood up. He had work to do. But he paused once again when Finn returned to his table and began to type. Something happened to his expression. His eyes narrowed and his gaze seemed laser focused on the screen. His fingers sped across the keyboard.
Dude finally got himself figured out. Good. Enzo wished he could say the same for himself. He capped the Sharpie, and his fingers twitched for his charcoals. The way Finn looked right now? That determination? The way his pink lips pressed together, with the occasional swipe of his tongue? Enzo wanted to get that down on paper.
Maybe he’d save that for his break. Right now he had to get back to work.
Chapter 4
Finn blinked as he looked up from his laptop screen, the scent of freshly brewing coffee hitting his nostrils and calling his attention away from his manuscript. His gaze flickered across the coffee shop, to the front counter where Enzo smiled at a customer as he counted out change. He’d done that several times over the past hour, taking a glimpse at the man who’d sparked his creativity, and then gotten back into writing.
The words had snapped into place the moment Finn witnessed Enzo drawing. He’d followed Enzo’s hand as it dragged across the page, creating long strokes of black ink on the too white paper, turning a blank page into a piece of art, a sweet little drawing for the boy. Finn found himself enraptured in the way Enzo moved, the grip of his hand, how he pushed his sleeves up to reveal strong forearms.
It had come to him then. An artist. Finn’s next main character would be an artist.
