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  Nico opened their door, flushed from the exercise.

  They’d stayed pretty much even, but Nico had been running every day since they arrived. Luke hadn’t been since he left Harrison and had ended a bit winded. Still, they ran well together, and Nico enjoyed it more than usual.

  “I thought I’d make macaroni and use the last of Nonna’s gravy.” Nico didn’t wait for an answer before detouring into the kitchen.

  “Translation: pasta and pasta sauce.” Luke seemed proud of himself.

  “That’s what I said. I didn’t say madanad, because I remember how that confused you.”

  “That’s because it’s a made-up word.”

  “Only to those not from New York.” Luke was right, but Nico had grown up hearing everyone use the word instead of marinara.

  “Nope, I looked it up. Even the New York Italian-American websites say it’s bullshit. I believe the quote was ‘just because everyone knows what you mean, doesn’t mean it’s a real word.’”

  “Fine, we’re having pasta and mar-in-ara. Happy?”

  “Oh, you sound so sexy when you talk like that.” Luke leaned back and fanned himself with his hand. “Say it again?”

  “Whatever.” Nico opened the refrigerator for the madanad. “If you want, you can shower while I cook.”

  “Hardly seems fair that I shower first.” Luke pulled out two tall glasses and then got the pitcher of water from the refrigerator. “We should do it together.”

  Nico nearly dropped the container of sauce. The image of them naked under the spray popped into his head, and his dick was real interested.

  He faced the oven, biting the inside of his cheek. “Thanks for the offer, but I don’t think there’s room in that shower for us both.”

  Luke sprayed water over Nico’s face and neck. Plucking two paper towels, Nico wiped his face.

  “Sorry,” Luke said, lips wobbling on a laugh. “I meant we should make dinner together.”

  “Oh, my bad.” Nico fanned his face like Luke had done. “I thought you were still pretending I was sexy. I played along.”

  Luke let a belly laugh ring out, closing his eyes, hands waving about.

  Nico smiled tightly. This was why he shouldn’t let any feelings grow between them. Luke was just like any other jock in the end, and while they might get on okay as friends, while they might even have this weirdly kinetic connection, nothing substantial would last between them.

  “God.” Luke took another sip of water and choked as another laugh broke free.

  Luke coughed and spluttered, and Nico sighed.

  “Look up.” He demonstrated. “That’s what my mother always tells me.”

  Luke did as suggested, and a few seconds later he regained control. “I’ll be dipped. That works.”

  “Glad I could help,” Nico said, fighting not to scowl. He was sexy, thank you very much.

  “Cough aside, I needed that laugh.”

  Nico turned the burner on low and slammed the cover on the pan. He’d make sure his next boyfriend, whoever that was, would appreciate the fact.

  He bit down on speaking his mind and did what he did best. Shrugged it off. Pretended it didn’t hurt. “Why? Bad day?”

  Luke frowned, then seemed to shake it off. “Not really.” He put a big pot under the tap and filled it.

  “Which means yes. What’s wrong?”

  “Honestly, there’s nothing wrong.” Luke transferred the pot to the stove. He looked at Nico, eyes still glittering from his laugh. The smile seemed warm and genuine and a little shy, but Nico didn’t want to read into it.

  Luke hesitated. “We’ll take turns showering and I’ll tell you about it, yeah?”

  Nico shrugged and slung off a “Sure,” annoyed at himself that he really wanted to know.

  Luke

  Kent: Are you bringing Nero?

  Luke: Only if you bring Sylvester.

  Kent: Don’t be an asshole.

  Luke: Good advice. Follow it.

  Luke should block the dickhead already. Why did Kent even care what Luke did? Better question, why did Luke bother to respond?

  The shower cut off, and he stuffed his phone in his pocket. Luke wanted dinner ready when Nico came out. Not that he did any real cooking. Nonna had made the sauce, and even Luke could boil pasta. He tossed in the penne and set the timer—per the instructions Nico left. Which meant it really wasn’t like he cooked.

  The phone vibrated in his pocket, but Luke refused to check. Nico always knew when Kent sent a message. It wasn’t hard to figure out when Luke scowled at his phone.

  He wouldn’t let his ex ruin another night. Especially not tonight. Nico might get the wrong idea.

  “How’s dinner coming?” Nico ran his hands across his wet hair.

  Luke couldn’t deny how super hot it was. “The macaroni is cooking and the madanad should be warm enough.”

  “Excellent.” Nico used the wooden spoon to stir the sauce. “When I was a kid, my family used all these slang words for regular stuff. Madanad, mutzadel for mozzarella, riguta for ricotta cheese. I thought they were real.”

  “Right. So, what’s gabagool?”

  Nico shrugged, looking sheepish. “Capicola.”

  “Seriously? How do you get gabagool from that?”

  “No idea.” He tapped the spoon on the edge of the pot and set it down. “When I was about sixteen, we went to the Jersey Shore for a week during the summer. I tried to be helpful and went shopping at the Acme, the local grocery store. I stared at the deli counter for like five minutes until the guy asks me if I’m looking for something specific.

  “I say, ‘yes, I’d like a half a pound of brahjzoot sliced thin.’”

  Luke snorted. “What the hell is that?”

  “You heard the guy, eh?” Nico winked and set the strainer in the sink. “Brahjzoot is what my family calls prosciutto.”

  “The fuck?”

  “Exactly. I never knew the correct name was prosciutto. Sixteen and I was still calling things by these weird-ass names people in my community used instead of the real thing. The funny thing is, if you go to any deli in New York and ask for brahjzoot or gabagool, you’ll get prosciutto or capicola.”

  “That’s . . .” Bizarre, and oddly adorable.

  “Fucked-up?” Nico nodded. “You can say it.”

  Luke could say it. But could he say the adorable bit?

  “I feel like my family trained me to speak a weird language no one understands so I couldn’t leave the neighborhood.”

  Luke snorted, relieved Nico had moved on so he didn’t have to speak.

  He loved Nico’s stories. Found it fascinating how easily Nico slid between two worlds. More so than his parents and grandparents, it seemed.

  When the pasta was finished, Nico pulled out a loaf of Italian bread and made them plates. They both sat, and Luke paused. It felt nice, eating good food at home with someone to banter with.

  “So, what happened today? Or have you decided you’d rather not talk about it?” Nico didn’t look up as he sprinkled grated cheese on his pasta. When he finished, he offered the cannister to Luke, who took it, hesitating again.

  “Nothing bad, really.” Luke shoveled food into his mouth to buy himself some time.

  Nico saw right through that, judging by his arched brow.

  Luke swallowed and dropped his fork onto the plate. “The firm holds these events for their interns all summer. The last two nights, they had receptions with key clients. Those were more workish. Saturday, they’re having a thing at the Phillies game.”

  “That’s what has you all wonky?” Nico broke off a piece of bread and ran it through the sauce in his bowl. “You love baseball. Why isn’t a free game a ‘hell yeah’ moment? Or is it not free?”

  “No, it’s free. They don’t make us pay for anything. They have a luxury box they’re using.”

  “Nice. I got invited to one at Citi Field for a Mets game. Swanky.” He speared more pasta and continued to eat.

  “It’s
a plus one event.”

  “Really? They’re making you bring someone?”

  “Not making us, but they made it clear this event welcomed significant others.” Why was he dancing around the issue? Nico wasn’t stupid, he’d figure it out. He needed to man up. “I wanted to know . . . would you be interested? In going with me?”

  Nico’s gaze shot to his, something glistening in his eyes, but he blinked before Luke got a read. Nico dragged his fork through his dinner, head cocked to the side in thought. “Calling in your fake-boyfriend favor?”

  Luke’s stomach flipped. “Sorta. I mean, if you don’t want to go, I understand.”

  Nico didn’t answer immediately, which should have been enough for Luke to tell Nico it wasn’t important. Forget it.

  Problem was, Luke didn’t want to tell Nico that.

  “I have a question before I agree.”

  Luke shifted nervously on his chair. “Shoot.”

  “It doesn’t sound like you have to take someone, and it’s not like I’m a huge baseball fan.” Nico raised an eyebrow. “What’s the real reason you’re asking?”

  Luke pushed his food away. Part of the reason made him look petty. What did it matter what Kent thought? Even if Nico didn’t go, Luke could still pretend he had an adoring boyfriend who didn’t think he was boring in the slightest.

  He didn’t need Nico to come. He wanted him there. Really wanted him there. “I’d rather not go alone.”

  “Because of Kent.” Nico cut through the bullshit, but his expression was unreadable.

  Luke hated the stodgy feeling in his gut. Like maybe he was disappointing Nico.

  “Not just to pretend I found someone new,” he rushed out. “He’s the only person I know. If I go by myself, I have to choose between talking to him and his new boyfriend, or being alone most of the time. And,” Luke looked over the table at him, “I like hanging out with you.”

  Nico held his gaze for a moment before refocusing on his pasta. “You don’t care that I’m a baseball dunce?”

  “Nope. I’ll gladly explain anything you don’t understand.”

  “Even if I ask why there isn’t a coin flip before overtime?”

  There it was again. Enough confidence in himself to poke fun at his past mistakes. Admirable. “Especially then.”

  “Okay, I’m in.”

  “Really? That’s awesome. I totally owe you.”

  “Yep, you totally do.” Nico’s smirk didn’t bode well. “And with that, I have something to tell you.”

  Was he serious? They hadn’t even gone to the game, and he was calling in the favor? “Why am I scared?” Why was his pulse beating so hard and his palms sweating?

  “Because you think I’ll tell you what I demand in return for attending a baseball game. Nico exaggerated a shudder. “But you’re wrong.” He snapped a finger at Luke and returned to his dinner.

  Luke waited, but Nico didn’t continue. After a couple of seconds, he pulled his plate closer. “And?”

  Nico peered over the fork. “Not scared anymore?”

  “Petrified.” The aroma of the madanad called back his appetite. He took another delicious bite.

  “I have a part-time job.”

  Luke jerked his head up to Nico, grinning. “What?

  “A part-time job.” Nico preened liked he’d been elected king of the prom. “I told you I didn’t have enough to keep me busy.”

  “Right, but you said no one would hire you for just a few weeks.”

  “I was wrong. Someone did.”

  Nico was skimping on the details on purpose. Two could play that game. “That’s great. I hope it works out for you.” Luke bit into his bread.

  Nico glared at him. “You’re such a brat.”

  “Me?” He sprayed bits of food onto the table. Putting his hand in front of his mouth, he added, “You were the one being coy.”

  “Only because you thought the worst of me.”

  Luke laughed. “You have to admit, the timing was really suggestive.”

  “I admit to nothing, Mr. DeRosa.” Nico took a dramatic bite from his bread.

  “Then continue to be delusional and dramatic, Mr. Amato.” Luke stuffed his fork into the pasta and chomped on the contents.

  Nico’s mood flattened. He plastered on a smile, and Luke knew he’d fucked up. Said something wrong. Did he take offense to Luke’s joke?

  Luke leaned back in his chair and studied Nico. Since their trip to New York, he’d returned to dressing in plain clothes. Cargo shorts and T-shirts mainly. Tonight was no exception.

  The mystery was slowly solving itself, and the truth of it made Luke ache. He rubbed his jaw, unsure what to say. Whether he should say anything at all.

  “I’m working at Esposito’s,” Nico said, and Luke put away his revelation to study later.

  He flashed a grin at Nico. “You are working for the enemy?”

  Nico rolled his eyes and raised his hand as if to gesture but dropped it quickly into his lap.

  Luke swallowed hard.

  “They’re not the enemy,” Nico said. “I hired them to make Elisa’s wedding cake. After I mentioned to Mrs. Esposito I was running out of things to do, she asked if I wanted to work a few hours a day there. I mean, I won’t earn much, but it’s not entirely about the money.”

  “Did you tell your family yet?”

  Nico rolled his eyes. “Har-har. I did, but Rocco Esposito and my dad know each other from trade shows and the like. Rocco called my dad before he offered me a job to be sure Papà would be okay with me working for him.”

  “Cool. What are you hours?”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll be home in time to cook.” He winked. Luke hoped Nico knew he never expected that. “They’ll vary. Mostly I’m filling in for people or providing extra coverage during busy times, like morning rush or lunch. Maybe a weekend morning, but Estelle said they have plenty of part-timers available weekend mornings, so probably not.”

  “Sounds pretty perfect.” Especially the part where Nico’s weekends would be mostly free.

  “It does. And it won’t interfere with the game you’re so eager to show me off at.” He gave Luke a stink eye Nonna would be proud of. “Still worried?”

  “Nope.”

  Yes.

  But for entirely different reasons.

  Chapter Ten

  Nico

  Nico: Be proud of me, I’m going to a baseball game today.

  Isaiah: Sitting in a luxury box isn’t really going to a game.

  Nico: Don’t be spiteful because I’m finally doing something your filthy-rich, super-sweet boyfriend usually does for you.

  Isaiah: Whatever. Just don’t forget the event at Darren’s house in two weeks.

  Right, the charity fundraiser Darren’s mother sponsored. Isaiah must truly be in love to agree to play for that event.

  It would be great to see Isaiah again, even if he would hassle him for more details of this fake boyfriend thing he had going with Luke.

  He’d cross that bridge when he got to it.

  First, he needed to deal with today.

  He’d searched for a good ‘baseball for beginners’ website and found a couple that helped. The infield fly rule was pretty straightforward, and stealing bases made sense, but what the fuck was a balk? And who came up with the number system? The shortstop and second baseman stood in about the same place, on opposite sides of second base. So why did they designate the second baseman number four, skip the shortstop, and make the third baseman number five, then go back to the shortstop as number six? Ugh, it made no sense.

  He didn’t realize Luke had come into the common room until he saw a pair of legs standing next to him. A pair of well-muscled, nicely hairy legs in skimpy soccer shorts.

  “What are you doing?” Luke peered over Nico’s laptop, and Nico hurriedly started to shut it.

  “Just reading something.”

  Luke pinched the screen still. “Baseball for Dummies?” The gently amused look froze Nico. “What are
you up to?”

  “Nothing.” He steered the laptop screen out of Luke’s sight. “I was reading about baseball.”

  “I see that. Why?”

  “Because . . .” He glared at the screen and looked up. “I don’t want to say something stupid like ‘how many points did they get’ or ‘why isn’t that a yellow card?’”

  “Nico.” Luke squatted until he was at eye level. “One of the things I like most about you is that you’re not afraid to be who you are. I wish I had your self-confidence.”

  “I’m not as self-confident as you think.”

  Luke’s gaze momentarily dropped to his simple white T-shirt and jumped back to his eyes again. “It’s a company outing, not a baseball writers convention. Most people won’t know the difference between a pass ball and a wild pitch.”

  “Catcher mistake versus pitcher’s.”

  Luke raised an eyebrow. “Impressive. Look, you don’t need to worry. Most of the people are going to see and be seen.” He paused a second before adding, “And to get free food and drink.”

  “But you’re going because you’re interested in the game, too.” And Nico was his plus one. He wouldn’t be much of a companion if he didn’t get the game.

  He rubbed his palm nervously over the arm of the couch.

  Luke rested a warm hand on top of Nico’s, stilling him. “Thank you.” He pushed himself to his feet. “But I think you know enough. We should get going soon, and you need to shower.”

  “What?” Nico sniffed his armpit. “I poured water over my head during our run.”

  Luke pried the laptop free, set it aside, and pulled Nico to his feet, grinning. “And that wore off an hour ago. Jump in the shower while I figure out how we get there using SEPTA.”

  The luxury suite at Citizens Bank Park didn’t disappoint. It had indoor and outdoor seating separated by sliding glass panels, a bar, a buffet, barstools and tables, three TVs, and several couch-like seats.