Better latte than never, p.8
Better Latte Than Never, page 8
Chapter 10
I screwed up. The thought rattled around Finn’s head as he walked to the cafe the next morning. That kiss in the storage room had been so impulsive, so uninhibited, so...romantic. Even now he’d lick his lips and remember the all too brief taste of Enzo on his tongue. It had obliterated every memory of kissing Theo with the simple fact that it had been real, actually real.
Enzo had kissed him because he wanted to kiss Finn, the writer who’d helped him out on a busy night. He had no idea that Finn was a famous and rich author. There had been no ulterior motive behind his actions. And Finn had loved every brief moment of it. He wanted more.
But with each step forward he worried how Enzo would react today. Would it be awkward? Would he regret it? It was perhaps only an impulse on his part as well. Finn had been telling himself for weeks that their flirting meant nothing. He’d let himself enjoy it for that reason alone.
That wasn’t completely true. Finn had to admit he’d been attracted to Enzo from the start. He just hadn’t let himself want anything more than he was given. The book was the most important thing after all.
And what if it was so awkward he lost the cafe? If Finn had to stop going there? What would happen to his story without Enzo as his muse?
He stood in front of the cafe before he’d finished sorting his thoughts out. Oh well. No choice but to lay on, MacDuff. Finn took a deep breath before pushing the door open and walking into typical Friday afternoon chaos. Tami and her son were arguing over his tablet. Lydia and one of the twins were busy bussing tables for non-regular customers. Enzo himself stood behind the counter, moving with his usual grace as he danced between the espresso machine and the cash register.
Finn swallowed hard at the sight, enraptured by the broad lines of Enzo’s back, the muscles in his forearms as he handed over a full cup of coffee to a customer. Everything in him wanted to go over there and touch, run his hand down Enzo’s arm and feel the warm skin beneath his own.
He went up to the counter and steeled himself for rejection.
Enzo grinned. “The usual? Why don’t you get set up, and I’ll bring it over.”
Finn grinned back, unable to hide the thrill that filled him. No, no awkwardness here. “Thanks. I’ll be in the corner.”
“Best seat in the house.”
Indeed it was. It gave him a perfect view of Enzo. Finn opened his laptop and pulled up his work in progress file. Today he felt like writing kisses.
Leon found them pressed together, chest to chest. Her lips were so pink, so tempting. When she looked up from beneath her golden eyelashes, her eyes glowed green. He couldn’t resist cupping her cheek with one hand, brushing his thumb along her soft skin.
“Tell me to stop,” he whispered.
“Never.”
He moved slowly, ever so slowly, giving her every opportunity to stop him. But Lily only waited patiently for their lips to brush together. First, one gentle kiss, almost childlike, testing the weight of her lips. And then another, harder, forcing her lips open, so he could taste.
She gasped, and Leon realized he’d gripped her shoulder with his free hand. He loosened his hold but didn’t let go. Not without memorizing exactly what she tasted like.
The words flowed smoothly, easily from Finn’s fingertips. When someone set a cup of coffee on his table he looked up with a smile. Sadly, it wasn’t Enzo, who appeared slammed at the counter with a long line of customers. Instead, it was one of the twins. “Thank you.”
She nodded, then fidgeted a bit before blurting out, “Enzo said that you were a writer. A real writer.”
Finn supposed they got a lot of fake writers here in the cafe. He had noticed a few others with laptops, but none seemed to be regulars. Certainly none with a consistent schedule like his. Discipline had always gotten him through deadlines in the past and it would serve him now, even though everything else had changed.
Perhaps he could call himself a ‘real writer.’
“Yes,” he told her. “I’m sorry. I don’t know your name.” Which was pretty embarrassing considering he’d created two characters based on her and her sister. Well, not on them specifically. The twin part.
“Anabell. My sister is Mirabell.”
He cleared his throat. “Finn. Pleased to meet you.”
A sliver of guilt rose in him over using twins in his book. He wouldn’t have come up with the concept without having watched them every day as they puttered around the cafe. It gave his book its dramatic ending. Still, they didn’t need to know they had inspired it. This wasn’t like Finn. He didn’t use real people in his fiction. All of his characters showed up in his brain with their own personalities, and if he needed to tweak those personalities to meet his outline, then so be it.
Although Leon. He was different. Yes, Leon had been completely inspired by Enzo.
“I’m sorry to bother you.” She shifted from foot to foot. “My sister and I, we both go to community college. She’s going into pre-law.” Anabell rolled her eyes, which told Finn everything there was to know about that. “But I want to be a writer.”
“Ah.” Finn leaned forward. He never knew what advice to give to aspiring writers. They always had expectations, that Finn had the magic formula to become successful. Really, his path had involved luck more than anything else. But she didn’t want to hear that. “I was a journalism major in college. I started out writing for a newspaper.”
She made a face. “That’s not a requirement, is it?”
“It’s probably a good idea if you want to write for a newspaper.” He smiled at her. “But no, it’s not. In fact, I don’t believe you need an English degree or an MFA. There are only two requirements. The first is that you write.”
She let out a laugh at that. Good, he wasn’t boring her. Finn never got the chance to talk about writing when he wasn’t in his Morgan Heart persona. He liked it.
“Most people say the second is read, and I agree, that’s important, but...” Finn picked up his coffee and took a sip. He had to close his eyes for a moment to savor the bold rich flavor on his tongue, the deep rich scent of the coffee invading his nostrils. Enzo somehow always brewed the perfect cup for him.
He took a moment to put his thoughts in order. “Working for the paper I talked to a lot of people. Tried to understand their motivations. Why they did the things they did. I didn’t always figure them out, but exploring why in fiction—that’s what gave me my best characters, I think.”
“That doesn’t help me with choosing a major.”
Finn chuckled. “Do you have to choose right away?” She shook her head. “Take a few different kinds of classes if you can. Art. Music. Even law. You might find something that surprises you.”
She nodded and looked thoughtful as she went back to work, bussing some tables so new customers could take them. Finn sighed and stared at his mess of a document. Who was he to be giving advice? Right now he was halfway to considering his own backup plan. He had done pretty well with mopping the cafe last night. Maybe he should consider a third career as a janitor.
Finn glanced back at the counter. Enzo seemed to have a quiet moment after all that chaos, chatting with Lydia as he wiped down the equipment. Finn flushed, unable to get yesterday out of his mind. Enzo ignited something inside him, a spark that brought him back to life. Finn looked at Enzo now, adjusting his apron and chatting with Lydia, and he wanted. His body thrummed with desire.
Finn shook his head, as if he could shake away the swirl of warmth rising inside him. Not only was this not the place, but it wasn’t the time either. He could do this. He knew the story. He had the characters. He even had his sad little outline. All he had to do was write.
Finn had his hands on the keys when Aunt Rosa charged out from the back, holding a cordless phone to one ear. Her cheeks were flushed a dark red, and her hand tugged at her hair, pulling it out of its neat bun. She handed the phone over to Enzo and spoke rapidly in Italian.
He had to strain to listen in with all the ambient noise in the cafe.
“What do you mean?” Enzo said to unknown person. “I put the application in with plenty of time...are you serious? Is there any way we can...Yeah, yeah, I get it.”
He clicked the phone and handed it back to his aunt. They spoke in hushed tones too low for Finn to hear. Something was wrong, that much he could tell by Rosa’s flushed face and angry arm movements. She gestured wildly as she spoke, and Enzo only shook his head.
When she grabbed the phone and stormed to the back, Finn got up and went to the counter. He wasn’t alone in this idea. Lydia and the twins also flanked Enzo.
“What’s wrong?” Finn asked.
Enzo looked up at his audience and sighed. “Let me get you a refill. The usual?”
“I’d better to switch to decaf,” Finn said. He didn’t know why Enzo didn’t answer right away, but as he watched Enzo pour the coffee, he realized he must have needed the comfort of the familiar motion.
“We lost the contract for the street fair.” He announced as he put the cup on the counter. “To Holy Cannoli.”
The girls gasped. Finn blinked. “I don’t know what that means.”
“Every year we get the coffee contract for the town,” Lydia explained. “We provide all the coffee throughout the street fair. We usually have two stations set up on either end of Main Street. Any vendor who wants to provide coffee has to go through us first. We’ve been doing it for years. Enzo, how did this happen?”
He ran his hands through his hair, making that green streak stand straight up. Finn itched to reach out and smooth it out. “They beat us by one stinking hour. The application process is first come first serve so...”
“That’s bullshit,” Mirabell said. “You guys have been doing this for years! You should get first dibs!”
“Plus their coffee sucks. Right, Finn?” Anabell turned in his direction.
Finn nodded emphatically. “It’s terrible.”
“There’s nothing I can do.” Enzo spread out his arms. “You know bureaucracy.”
“Wait, does this mean we can’t sell coffee ourselves?” Lydia burst out.
The twins started talking at once. Enzo lifted his hands to get everyone to quiet down. “We can sell in the cafe. But no booths for us. All the advertising banners will say Holy Cannoli.”
Finn took his coffee back to his seat as Enzo continued to try to calm down the staff. It looked like he wouldn’t get a moment alone with Enzo today, and really, Enzo seemed to have far more to worry about than Finn’s anxiety over that kiss. He’d mentioned the street fair for the first time last night, but Finn knew it was important for Enzo’s art business. Losing the advertising for the cafe probably affected that as well.
No, Enzo definitely had bigger things to worry about.
Before he could get back to his writing, Finn’s phone buzzed. It was a text from Enzo.
“Sorry. Busy. Still on for Wednesday?”
There were so many typos he’d probably managed to sneak the text in while still talking to the ladies. Finn tapped back, “Def still on for Wednesday. No need to apologize. You’re working. I get it. Don’t worry about me. I have this novel to write.”
Enzo texted back after a moment. “Thanks. Let me send you my address.”
Finn flushed as the Google maps location popped up in his app. This wasn’t a date, not really. Enzo was going to show Finn his art, and that, maybe, was more intimate. He knew exactly what Enzo thought of his books, although he still hadn’t admitted to being Morgan Heart. He hoped he’d have a better reaction to Enzo’s work.
Of course he would. Finn set his phone on the table. He’d already seen Enzo sketch, the perfect movements of his fingers. What he wanted was more of those fingers elsewhere.
Focus, Finn. Book first. Flirting later. Finn forced his attention back on his laptop screen.
But he sure as hell was looking forward to Wednesday.
Chapter 11
By the time Wednesday rolled around, Enzo wished he’d linked Finn to his website like a normal person. Then he wouldn’t have had to spend the Tuesday before scrubbing the toilet in the desperate fear that Finn would think him a slob.
That was not fair to Finn or his toilet. Enzo had a lot on his mind during the past few days. Aunt Rosa had been complaining about losing the street fair contract, while Enzo worried about his own booth, stationed right in front of the cafe. He sold most of his art this way, but without the coffee advertising, would customers pass him by?
And he couldn’t help thinking that selling only twice a year at the seasonal town street fairs was the wrong way to go about making it as an artist. Should he travel the state, selling his work at every outdoor market he could find? Or should he stop doing fairs altogether and focus his attention on building his brand with an online storefront?
With every stroke of paint, he doubted himself. It wasn’t like he could pull out of the fair now, not when he’d committed. And, on top of all that indecision, he’d thought it a brilliant idea to invite Finn over to check out his art.
What if Finn hated it? What if he took one look at Enzo’s canvases and declared, “That’s not art!” and stormed out of the house, never to darken Enzo’s cafe again?
Maybe Enzo was being a bit overdramatic.
They hadn’t spoken about that kiss in the storage room. To be fair, there hadn’t been time. Enzo didn’t want to bring it up in the cafe in front of everyone, and it wasn’t the kind of thing you texted about. Or maybe that’s how he should have approached it. Texted Finn so he could hide behind his phone and not worry if he didn’t get the response he wanted.
With Finn, he was so fucking out of his element. With anyone else, this invitation to come look at his art would turn into a booty call, but Enzo really valued Finn’s opinion. He wanted Finn to like his art because he valued his opinion.
To that end, Enzo had chosen his favorite pieces and propped the canvases up against the couch in the living room. He’d chosen a portrait of Nat where he’d turned her into a fairy princess, red hair all aglow amidst a field of yellow flowers. Next to it he set one of his abstract paintings, a jumble of blues and greens with a slash of pale brown to represent sand. He meant it as a love letter to the beach, but wasn’t sure if it worked.
He’d brought out some smaller works, including the prints of what he would sell at the street fair. This way Finn would get a good idea of how Enzo wanted to make his living. He hesitated for a moment, but then went and got the easel with the current canvas in progress on it. He really shouldn’t be moving it, but Enzo didn’t want to invite Finn to his bedroom to see it.
This painting was special to him. Enzo had painted the cafe from outside, giving it his own unique flair. He’d used plenty of impasto to build up the texture, wanting the painting to be felt as well as seen. But he’d been careful not to be too exact in his strokes. Enzo wanted a blurring effect, like seeing the storefront of the cafe through the rain. He wasn’t quite sure if it worked, and it might be a good thing to get Finn’s opinion on. The paint wasn’t dry yet, so Enzo moved it extra carefully, only bringing it as far as the entryway to the living room.
Now all he had to do was wait. Enzo ran his fingers through his hair, then had a panic attack worrying that he had gotten paint in his hair. He ran to the bathroom to check, but luckily the only streak in his hair was the same green one he’d intentionally dyed.
While he was in the bathroom, the doorbell rang. Of course it did. Enzo took a deep breath and nodded to his reflection before going to the front door to let Finn in.
Finn looked damn good. He wore a short-sleeved polo shirt that showed off his muscular forearms—who knew all that typing could produce that kind of muscle? The pale blue was a good color on him, accentuating his skin tone and making his blue eyes pop in contrast. Enzo wanted to paint Finn in a study of blues.
“Hi.” Finn gave him a sheepish grin before revealing what he held behind him—a small bouquet of fresh cut spring flowers.
“For me?” Enzo took the flowers. How damn sweet!
“Yeah, uh.” Finn ducked his head, looking shy all of a sudden. “My mom taught me to bring a gift if someone invites you to their home. You probably get enough cake at the cafe, and I thought a bottle of wine would be too formal. There was this guy selling these on Broad Street, and I thought they were perfect.”
“They are,” Enzo assured him. It relaxed him, knowing Finn was just as nervous. Enzo stepped aside and gestured for Finn to enter. “Come on in. I’ll put these in the kitchen.” He’d have to find a vase for the flowers. Nat probably had one somewhere.
Nobody had ever given him flowers before.
By the time Enzo got back out to the living room, he found Finn already perusing his art, his hand on his chin as he viewed the pieces. Enzo couldn’t figure out the expression on his face. He looked so serious as if...as if he was viewing Enzo’s work in a gallery and not his living room filled with secondhand furniture.
“Well?” Enzo didn’t know what to do with his hands, so he put them behind his back.
Finn looked up to respond, and then his eyes widened as he spotted the easel blocking the hallway. He walked up to it, reaching out with one hand.
“Don’t!” Enzo called and then lowered his voice. “It’s still a work in progress. Paint hasn’t dried yet.”
“It’s stunning.” Finn stepped closer to examine it. “You’ve made the cafe its own character. It’s something we do in the writing world. Make a place a person.” He turned to flash that grin again.
God, Enzo wanted to go over there and kiss it off of him. Maybe he should.
ENZO BEAMED AT HIM. It took all of Finn’s willpower not to grab him right then and there. He was here for a purpose.
“I love your art,” Finn blurted. “I mean, you’re good. Really good.” He gestured at the painting of the red headed fairy. Enzo had created another world, somehow. Finn wanted to fall into the painting and tell the story of the fairy inside it. “She looks familiar.”
“That’s my roommate Nat. You might have seen her on my lock screen.”
