Chapter 9

  Finn, the email read, I love what you’ve sent so far. The writing is absolutely gorgeous and the characters come alive on the page. But I’m wondering, where is the story? What is going to happen to this poor kid?

  Finn closed the email from Angie without replying. Didn’t she understand? The whole point was that Finn was able to write again. And not only write, but write with the abandon of youth, the freedom to play and explore in a way he hadn’t in years. Joy filled him, pushing him to keep going, the words flowing from him in a flood he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to.

  And he had Enzo to thank for that.

  But Finn couldn’t send a bunch of unrelated scenes to his publisher and expect it to work as a novel. He actually had to figure out some kind of story here. Right now he only had a character study, and that character he’d loosely based on Enzo, an artist who started out working at a coffee shop before becoming famous. But what happened next?

  Finn opened up his trusty outline template again. He should start thinking up some plot beats to add to the major acts. He had to start with that third act, somehow decide who died at the end of the story. Why couldn’t he figure this out?

  Maybe because he couldn’t bear to kill off his main character, Leon. No, it had to be Leon’s love interest to die. Finn looked away from his laptop screen, his eyes searching the cafe for inspiration. He’d stayed late today, hoping maybe to catch Enzo when he left for his dinner break. They’d had such a nice time together the other night.

  He should ask Enzo if he wanted to get something to eat sometime, maybe a night when he wasn’t working. That way they wouldn’t have to rush back to the cafe. And maybe, if it went beyond dinner...

  No, what the hell was he thinking? Finn had a good thing going here. He was not going to mess up his friendship with Enzo for what? A one-night stand? He wasn’t even sure Enzo liked him that way, and Finn had just gotten over Theo. Absolutely totally over Theo. He could almost think the name without turning into a boiling bit of rage. The point was, he shouldn’t even be thinking about throwing himself at another man.

  Finn sighed and stretched, working out the kinks in his shoulders. Enzo worked alone at the front counter. Ben had rushed out shortly before, although Finn didn’t know why and he didn’t want to bother Enzo who was suddenly very busy.

  Enzo skillfully rang up a customer before whirling to create her coffee. He moved like a dancer at his stations, each movement practiced and deliberate.

  Finn’s fingers itched to write a scene like that, maybe comparing Leon’s movement to a side step or a pas de deux. Hell, what did he know about dance anyway? Once again, he got lost in the details when he needed to be focused on the story.

  He forced himself back to his outline. It sucked that Enzo had to work alone tonight. Where were the other staff? At the thought, inspiration hit—Leon’s love interest was one of a set of twin sisters. Of course she had to die, but Finn couldn’t make it that easy. There had to be some sort of ambiguity.

  Then it came to him. A horrible car accident. One sister dies, and the other is left in a coma. But because they are twins, no one knows which one survived, Leon’s love or her sister.

  Perfect. Finn typed into the open fields, grinning. Now he could get on with figuring out the rest of the story.

  ENZO HADN’T EXPECTED to be so busy on a Thursday evening. Usually things picked up on the weekends, when people looked for a place to grab dessert after dinner or a show at the theater. But Thursdays?

  When Ben said he couldn’t stay for closing, Enzo had barked at him, annoyed. “Really? You waited until now to tell me? I could have called someone in if you’d told me sooner.”

  Ben shrugged. “Sorry, I forgot.”

  “Just go. And I’m not paying you for the missed hours!” Enzo snapped as Ben took off his apron and left the cafe.

  That meant Enzo couldn’t go out and grab dinner. He’d had to make himself an egg sandwich in the back, using some of the eggs meant for dough. There had been a croissant left from the morning, so it tasted pretty good. However, he had to swallow it almost whole, as yet another customer wandered in. Damn Ben for flaking out on him!

  That wasn’t fair to Ben. The kid was usually pretty dependable for a high school student. But Enzo couldn’t help being pissed off. And he knew why he was angry for no good reason. He’d noticed Finn had stayed late today, much later than normal. Enzo had entertained the thought of asking Finn to come out with him for dinner.

  How stupid of him. If he wanted to go on a date with Finn, he should just ask. Not take advantage of the fact that the guy was still here working on his book. Maybe he was having a good run and didn’t want to stop. It couldn’t be because he wanted to spend more time with Enzo.

  Not like he could ask. Enzo hadn’t even had a moment to go over there and check if Finn wanted a refill on his coffee.

  When a bunch of college students came in fifteen minutes before closing, his smile faltered, and he balled his hands into fists to keep from raging at them.

  “Let me help.” Finn appeared out of nowhere. “I’ve rung up a register or two in my day.”

  With relief, Enzo gestured him over to his side of the counter. “Take orders, and I’ll make coffee. The gloves are right here and you can use them to serve the pastries.” There weren’t even that many left. This group would have to deal with the last dregs of the day.

  Luckily, they all wanted variations on espresso. Enzo would have kicked them out if he’d had to brew an entire new pot of regular coffee. “American coffee” as his aunt called it.

  He pulled espresso and steamed milk while Finn worked the register. The touch screen was pretty idiot proof. All the items were listed by name. Push the button and voila, the price added up. “This will be to-go,” Finn told them firmly when the first kid asked to have it there. “We are closing.”

  Enzo beamed at Finn’s response. God, he was so forceful and authoritative. Of course, he didn’t actually work there, so he didn’t need to be customer service friendly, but still. The way he had swept in and protected Enzo and the cafe? Man, that did something to him, set off a warmth in Enzo’s belly that threatened to turn into desire, if he wasn’t so panicked about getting these last orders out.

  They worked well together, not getting in each other’s way as Finn scooped pastries into a white paper bag while Enzo lined up five specialty coffee drinks on the counter. “Thank you, have a great night!” Finn stared them down until they slunk out of the cafe. Oh, that was so damn sexy.

  Enzo rushed over to the door to flip the sign to Closed and turn the lock before anyone else tried coming in for a last-minute coffee at ten p.m. “Can you believe those guys?”

  “Alas, I can. I worked in a hardware store when I was in high school. A little mom and pop place before the big box stores took over the world.” Finn still stood behind the register. He looked like he belonged there, as if he was part of the cafe staff. “You do not want to tell a lumberjack he can’t get a hammer because we’re closing.”

  Enzo laughed. “That did not happen.”

  “Well, he probably wasn’t an actual lumberjack. Although, he had the whole plaid flannel aesthetic.” Finn motioned to his own shirt, and the idea of Finn wearing plaid flannel had Enzo laughing harder. “Plus, the long fluffy beard. I never could grow one of those.”

  “Have you tried?” Enzo asked through the wheezing coughs of laughter.

  Finn leaned forward as if telling a secret. “There was one winter when I rented a cabin in the mountains to write. I came out with about a foot of growth.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Well, you shouldn’t because I made that up.” Finn pointed at his chest. “Writer, remember? Now, what do we have to do to clean this place up?”

  All thoughts of laughter retreated. Enzo had a hell of a lot of work to do to get this place ready for his aunt tomorrow morning. “You don’t have to. You don’t actually work here.”

  “I am not leaving you to take care of this mess by yourself.” Finn crossed his arms over his chest and gave Enzo that same smoldering look he’d used to kick the kids out.

  That look made Enzo flush all the way to his toes. Still, he should say no. Finn was a paying customer. He should unlock the door and politely ask Finn to leave.

  But he didn’t want to end the evening like that, to remind Finn of his place here. He remembered Nat’s shocked voice as she’d said “a customer?” when he told her about Finn. Enzo didn’t want to make her skepticism truth. Finn wasn’t a creeper; he’d just proven that he wanted to be more than a mere customer.

  He swallowed and nodded. “I don’t suppose you know how to break down and clean an espresso machine?”

  “Outside my skill set, I’m afraid.”

  “I guess you’ll just have to mop the floors then.”

  He showed Finn the back room where they kept the cleaning supplies. Then Enzo got to work on the espresso machine, along with the other machinery behind the counter. Funny, he never thought of this as skilled labor, but he’d learned from his aunt, and had been doing it for eight years now. Enzo could probably break this thing down in his sleep.

  When he looked up, Finn had most of the floor swept and mopped. All the chairs were stacked on top of the tables, and Enzo hadn’t even told him to do that. He must have some experience with bussing. How many jobs had he had before writing?

  “You said you worked in a hardware store in high school.” Enzo broke the silence. “Where did you grow up?”

  Finn lifted his head and smiled. His hands looked out of place on that mop. His fingers were long and delicate, perfect for tapping out words on the keys of his laptop. What magic could such precise hands work on Enzo’s skin?

  He had to shake himself back to awareness, almost missing Finn’s response.

  “Not far from here, actually. Freehold.”

  “Huh. Isn’t Springsteen from there?” Enzo pulled out his phone to Google it, grateful for the distraction before he got too caught up in Finn’s fingers. “My parents used to listen to him all the time on the oldies station.”

  Finn coughed. “I was twenty-one when he won the Oscar for Philadelphia in ‘94. That song, that whole movie had a big impact on my generation.”

  Enzo looked up from his phone. “I think I was in kindergarten. What was so major about it?”

  Finn opened his mouth and closed it. “Back then the idea of gay marriage was a pipe dream. So many people died, and they never got to see their partners for the last time because of homophobic blood family. And then you had Tom Hanks up there on the big screen...well, it left an impression.”

  A chasm as wide as a football field opened between them. Enzo understood what Finn was talking about, but that felt like ancient history to him. Despite everything that went down with his parents, he couldn’t imagine them disowning him for being gay. Enzo had been out since high school, like many of his friends at the time.

  Enzo tucked his phone away. He had to get back to work if they had any hope of leaving here at a decent time. Finn for sure probably wanted to go home, and Enzo shouldn’t take advantage of his help.

  “Please don’t stress about the mopping. I appreciate you doing it at all.”

  Finn chuckled. “It’s actually quite relaxing.”

  “Still. Don’t worry about it being perfect.” Enzo finished his wipe down of all the surfaces behind the counter. “I’ll go pop these in the washer in the back room. You can bring the bucket and mop when you’re done.”

  “No problem. I only have this one corner left to do.”

  Enzo gathered the dirty linens and trucked to the back storage room with its industrial washer/dryer combo. He propped the door open with the rubber stopper, putting it in place with his foot since his arms were full. If he put this load in now, it would be clean and dry for his aunt to use in the morning. He ignored the sounds of Finn wheeling in the bucket behind him, until the door slammed shut and something clattered to the ground.

  “Are you all right?” Enzo whirled around to see Finn on the floor, the bucket on its side and the mop a few feet away from him.

  “I’m fine. I think I snagged the stopper with the bucket.” Finn got to his feet easily and righted the bucket. Water had gone everywhere, soaking the bottom of his pants and leaving small puddles on the floor.

  Enzo walked over to help, getting the water cleaned up before dumping the bucket, wringing out the mop and putting it all away where it belonged. The washing machine thumped along with its usual hum, and it looked like they were finally able to get the hell out of here.

  That’s when he reached for the doorknob and found it missing. “Um.”

  Finn came over to have a look. “It must have fallen off when I hit it with the mop. Do you see it anywhere?”

  Enzo searched the gray concrete floor, but it was Finn who came up with it. “Ah-hah!”

  Too bad sticking it back on didn’t work. Finn tried shoving it in the slot and turning, but nothing engaged.

  Enzo started to laugh. He was trapped in the tiny storage room with his crush. How ridiculous was this?

  Finn gave him a look, and then joined in. “Oh god, this is so stupid.”

  “Absolutely,” Enzo agreed. He got out his phone. “I’ll text Lydia. They don’t live too far, and she’ll be able to open the store to come to our rescue.” He paused in mid text. “The knob on the other side is still there, right?”

  Finn bent down to look, giving Enzo a lovely view of his ass through his tan pants. “I think so.”

  Enzo turned away so Finn wouldn’t catch him blushing. This was not the time to get a hard-on. He’d already been tested all evening with Finn and his smoldering looks. He didn’t need to be up close and personal with Finn in his wet pants.

  He didn’t want a quick hookup with Finn. Enzo wanted more. But he couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like, the two of them together, so hot and bothered they couldn’t keep their hands off of each other. Finn would slam Enzo against the wall, mouthing down his jaw, his hands seemingly everywhere as they pulled Enzo’s clothes off.

  “Enzo? Did you hear me?”

  He blinked, trying to chase the fantasy away. Not the time, not the time. “Sorry, I was reading Lydia’s text.”

  Which said, “How the hell did you get trapped in the storage room?”

  “The doorknob fell off when Finn brought in the mop and bucket.”

  “You’re trapped in the storage room with Finn?!!??” Several shocked emojis followed.

  “You can make fun of me later. Get over here and let us out,” Enzo typed furiously. He looked up at Finn, who stared at him with a soft expression on his face. “She’ll be right over.”

  “Hopefully this won’t involve calling in a locksmith. Not many of them work this late.” Finn leaned against one of the walls and stretched, the edge of his sweater riding up a tad to reveal creamy skin with the hint of a treasure trail.

  Enzo was going to explode any time now. “Uh, no,” he said, not even sure what he was replying to at the moment. All the blood in his head had rushed south.

  “Are you doing anything on your weekend?” Finn asked, and it took Enzo a solid minute to parse the question.

  “Um. I’ll be here. I work weekends.”

  Finn shook his head with a laugh. “No, I meant, your weekend. What is it, Tuesday and Wednesday?”

  Enzo’s cheeks heated. Maybe if he stopped being distracted by the tantalizing bits of bare flesh Finn teased him with, he could respond like a normal human being. “I’ll still be working. On my paintings. The street fair is coming up, so I have a lot to get done before then.”

  Would this be his last street fair? If he ended up getting and taking that job, then Enzo wouldn’t be displaying his art work for all of Red Bank to see and purchase twice a year. A pang of sadness hit him in his chest. He’d miss it. Selling his art online didn’t feel the same as the human connection he made by selling in person.

  Although, it wasn’t like he sold a ton anyway. Tourists liked his postcard prints, something they could carry away. They didn’t purchase original pieces, not for what they were truly worth. Maybe it was past time he should be giving them up, if he wanted to be considered a serious artist.

  “Street fair?”

  “Memorial Day weekend.” Which was what? Only three weeks away? Crap, he had so much work to do before then. “I sell my art in a stand in front of here.”

  “I look forward to seeing it.”

  “You could come over to my place,” Enzo found himself saying. “And I’ll show you what I’ve got so far.”

  He shouldn’t be inviting Finn over. What the hell was he thinking? Inviting a guy to his place in response to being asked about his weekend plans was taking it way too fast. Enzo didn’t want fast, not now.

  Finn pushed himself away from the wall and grinned. He focused on Enzo with an intense gaze, crossing the tiny room in two steps. Enzo swallowed, aware of the size of the room, and how little space separated them. The fluorescent lighting made Finn’s eyes seem very blue. “I’d love that. Tuesday?”

  “Um. Maybe Wednesday?” Enzo would need the time to clean up the place a bit.

  He took a step forward, and so did Finn. It seemed natural to tilt his head downward. Finn lifted his chin, and Enzo brushed their lips together. He caught a taste, the remnants of coffee and cinnamon, and something more.

  Before Enzo could figure out exactly what Finn tasted like, a click broke them apart as the door swung open, revealing Lydia.

  “You’re welcome,” she said when neither of them spoke. “Mom’s gonna have a guy come look at the door tomorrow. We don’t want anyone else getting stuck in here.”

  “No,” Finn agreed, his eyes gleaming as he stared at Enzo. “We don’t want that.”

  The heat of that gaze speared Enzo, setting him on fire all the way down to his toes. Next time when they kissed it would not be in the storage room.

 

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