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  “I hope you gave him the wrong room and told him to report two hours late.”

  He should have, but that wasn’t him. “Nope?”

  Nico gaped at him. “You gave him the details?”

  “Seemed the right thing to do.” At the time. Now he wished he hadn’t jumped to help Kent like that. Luke stared hard at the coffee swishing in his mug.

  Nico leaned against the counter next to him and bumped Luke’s shoulder. “Hey, you were the bigger person. Something I might need to work on.”

  Luke peeked at him out the corner of his eye. “Oh?”

  “I might have written ‘fucker’ on my ex’s pillow before I left campus.”

  “Might?” Luke lifted his mug, his arm brushing Nico’s again. “You don’t know?”

  Nico downed the last of his coffee and lurched toward the sink. “I think I’ve said enough.”

  A laugh shot from deep inside. “You can’t refuse to answer. A roommate needs to know.”

  “I have a constitutional right to remain silent and I’m exercising that right. And”—he pointed to Luke—“you’re not allowed to draw any adverse inference from my silence.”

  Luke stared at Nico in disbelief and snorted. “Professor Meadows, constitutional law?”

  “Last semester. You?”

  “Last spring.” Luke rolled his eyes. “Man, he was so . . .”

  “Boring?”

  “Yeah.” Just like me. He dropped his mug into the sink next to Nico’s and washed them both. “So I hear we’re shopping?”

  Nico whistled playfully, avoiding eye contact.

  Luke chuckled, and Nico folded, sagging against the counter beside him. “It’s easier to get off the phone when someone’s waiting on you.”

  “True.” Luke dried their mugs and opened the cupboard above Nico. Startled breath fizzled over his neck, and Luke froze at their proximity. Their eyes clashed, and Luke tried not to read into the way Nico looked at him, that cautious spark in his eye. Heat from Nico blazed into him, frying his nerve endings, and Luke dropped the mugs onto the shelf and jerked back. “So. Where are we going?”

  Nico raced a hand through his hair. “We?”

  “Well, I don’t want to make a liar out of you.” Also, sitting in the apartment and stewing didn’t exactly light him with enthusiasm. “You’ve already taken the Fifth once today.”

  “Keep this up, and you’ll end up my consigliere.” Nico stuck his head into the closet and came out with a pair of reusable bags. “I need to talk to Quinton about false advertising. This is not a fully stocked kitchen.”

  “Maybe not for you, but it works for us common folk. You’re just beyond the rest of us, Nico.”

  “Guess I am a bit much.” A flash of emotion crossed Nico’s face, and he twisted away from Luke. “To answer your question, there’s a farmers’ market in South Philly I want to check out. That’s Philly’s Little Italy.”

  “Oh.” Maybe stewing in his own shortcomings didn’t sound so bad after all.

  Nico read his hesitance and tugged his arm. “C’mon, it won’t be so bad. These things have way more than just produce.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Totally. And if you’re still disappointed, we can stop by one of the bakeries and I can impress you with my knowledge of Italian pastries.”

  That sounded way more appealing to Luke. “Deal.”

  Nico

  Nico: Ugh! The farmers’ markets here are glorified grocery stores. Are you sure you want to move here?

  Elisa: I’m not moving for the food.

  Nico: I get that, but love only gets you so far.

  Elisa: lol! Whatever you say, boo.

  “Grr!” He shoved his phone in his pocket.

  “What’s wrong?” Luke asked.

  “My know-it-all sister.” She wasn’t really, but talking about being in love was salt in his very fresh wound.

  “Did you tell her she should reconsider marriage because the markets are pathetic?”

  “I didn’t use the word pathetic.” He feigned interest in an eggplant. “I’m only half kidding. Like so much here, the markets are different. There’s good stuff here, but the atmosphere is more commercial than I’m used to back home.”

  “You don’t want to know what I consider a farmers’ market.” Luke raised his eyebrow in challenge.

  “On my God! Right.” Nico moved to the next vendor. “So tell me, big country, do they milk the cows and churn the butter on the grounds at your markets?”

  “Funny guy.” Luke narrowed his eyes on him, failing to hide his grin. “Like you said, it’s different. Where I live, most of the vendors are the farmers. And it’s outside under a tent.”

  “Did you have to work at them?” The image of Luke in overalls with a bit of straw in his mouth had his brain working overtime, and the shivers from their moment earlier flooded back to him.

  “Of course. The hired hands help give the family a break.”

  “My synapses are going crazy.”

  “Huh?”

  “You and all those hot farm boys working under a tent. Did you, you know, ever hook up with one of them?”

  Luke reddened.

  “Okay, so that’s a yes.” Nico’s smile threatened to split his face, and something else threatened to split his shorts. “You totally need to dish.”

  “Are you gonna share your bakery hookups?”

  Adorable how he tried to deflect it back onto Nico. But not going to work. “Had I any, I would, but I lived in New York City. I didn’t need to hook up with someone who worked for the family.”

  “Like there wasn’t anyone who worked there that got you fired up.”

  “Different question. And you’re evading. Indulge me with your farm-boy love story.”

  Luke’s rosy cheeks deepened to the color of turnips, and how he squirmed. God, Nico so badly wanted to know . . .

  “Never mind,” Nico coughed out. “It’s none of my business. How about we get coffee and a pastry. My treat for being such a tool.”

  “You’re not a tool.” Luke visibly relaxed. “Coffee sounds good, but you don’t need to pay.”

  “It’s no big deal.” Luke’s jaw tightened, and Nico chastised himself for the thoughtless offer. “I mean, no treat, but can I at least demonstrate my pastry expertise?”

  “Since I can’t pronounce half of what I saw, that would be great.”

  “Deal.” He pointed back the way they’d come. “That bakery on the corner looked promising.”

  “It rates the Amato stamp of approval?”

  “I said promising.” Nico winked. “Taste will determine if it gets a thumbs-up.”

  “Of course.” Luke cheerily thumped Nico on the back, hand lingering long enough that Nico would feel the imprint the rest of the day. “I’ll let you take point.”

  The Esposito’s bakery stall looked authentic enough. Three older ladies in white coats used metal cookie sheets to collect orders. Just like the storefront back home.

  “What can I get you, hon?” Estelle—according to her name tag—peered at him over tortoise-rimmed glasses.

  “Can I get four sfogliatelle, six cannoli, and some pignoli, please?”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Sure, hon. Do you want those cannoli filled or to take home?”

  “Filled, please. We’ll eat them before they get soggy.”

  “Why are you getting so much?” Luke asked.

  “Two sfogliatelle and two cannolis are for Mrs. R. She seems to like her sweets.”

  “Charmer,” Luke said, sounding too much like Mrs. Randazzo for it to be coincidence.

  “She knows everything that happens in the neighborhood. I want to be on her good side.”

  Luke laughed. “Nah, you’re just a nice guy who wants to make her day.”

  Nico shrugged, ticklish at the thought Luke read him like that, and pulled his gaze back to Estelle. “How do you sell your pignoli?”

  “However you want, hon. We can do a tin if you like, or by the pound.”


  “No tin.” His sister would bring plenty next weekend. “How about six?”

  “Sure thing.” She looked at him again. “Brooklyn?”

  Nico beamed and glimpsed Luke smiling beside him. “How’d you know?”

  “The way you say sfogliatelle and pignoli.” He noted the slight difference in her accent. “My grandmother was from Brooklyn, and that’s how she said them.”

  “Nico’s family owns a bakery in Brooklyn,” Luke said.

  “Oh?” Estelle looked from Nico to Luke and back. “Which one?”

  Nico shot Luke a look. “Amato’s.”

  “Really?” She said it like she knew the name. “Checking out the competition?”

  “No. Just getting some pastries. My friend hasn’t tried sfogliatelle before.”

  “You came to the right place.” She grabbed a tray and some tongs. “We make the best in Philadelphia.”

  Nico winked at Luke. “I can’t wait to try them. Can you give us two paper plates so we can eat some here?”

  She nodded and boxed up their order. “You let me know what you think.”

  “Of course.” He could see her telling people how one of the Amatos from New York raved about their pastry.

  “Is that all?”

  “Two small coffees?” Luke said, holding out his credit card.

  “I got this,” Nico said, handing his card to Estelle. She looked at them, and Nico waved his card a bit closer. When she took his card, Nico ignored the daggers Luke shot. When he heard what this would cost, he’d be glad he let Nico pay.

  “I was going to get it,” Luke said, miffed.

  “We can settle later.” Nico pointed to the overhead menu with the prices. “These aren’t donuts or croissants at a coffee shop.”

  “The total is forty-three seventy-five.” Estelle handed Nico back his card. “I tossed in the coffees for free.”

  Nico cocked his head. “Mrs. Esposito?”

  “What gave it away?” She chuckled.

  “Nonno would fire anyone who gave something away. That’s his job.” He held out his hand. “Nicodemo Amato. Pleased to meet you.”

  “Same.” She handed him the bag. “Enjoy, and come back and see us again.”

  “Oh, I’m sure we’ll be back.” Nico snagged a plastic knife and some napkins while Luke grabbed their coffee.

  The market had a seating area that was mostly full. They found a small table close to the bakery and sat in the wrought iron chairs. Before Luke could speak, Nico held up a finger.

  “I’m sorry for paying, but I was afraid you didn’t know how expensive this was going to be.” He worried the top of his coffee cup and finally glanced up. “You pay for coffee another time?”

  Luke rubbed his nape. A tic, Nico decided. Something he did when he wasn’t sure what to say or how to say it. It was cute on the jock.

  “You’re right,” Luke said. “I had no idea. Is that what you guys charge?”

  “Yeah, at the bakery. It’s more if you order online.” He took one sfogliatelle and one of the cannoli from their boxes and put them on one plate.

  “You gonna eat both of them?”

  “Not a chance.” Nico held up the knife before he started to cut. “I figured we’d start with half of each. Once you see how filling they are, you may not want any more.”

  He used the knife to push half of each pastry onto a plate. He tried to slide one half with the knife but it started to topple, and Nico instinctively balanced it with his fingers. “Sorry about the fingers.”

  “I’m not a germaphobe.”

  Nico picked up his half of the sfogliatelle, watching Luke carefully do the same. “Let’s see how it tastes.”

  Luke smiled. “Ah, the Amato stamp of approval.”

  The first bite crunched like it should, and his mouth filled with flaky crust and sweet cheese. He hummed his approval and glanced at Luke, who was already going for his second bite, a blissed-out look on his face. “Wow. This is—”

  “Luke?”

  They turned toward the voice, and Nico recognized the two guys from Luke’s Facebook page immediately. Luke’s ex, and Luke’s ex’s new boyfriend.

  Luke

  When Luke realized Kent and his new boyfriend stood less than six feet from him and Nico, his good spirits dropped out of his feet and left him frozen. Kent was here, at the market. Kent and his rugged handsome face with that cocky smile Luke used to find endearing.

  Kent’s smile deepened—slimy, that’s what it was—and he glanced at the boy hugging his arm.

  Sebastian was—wow, he was really good-looking in person. There went the hope that he filtered his photos. He was a touch shorter than Luke expected, but otherwise just like the pictures in Kent’s Facebook posts. Perfectly styled brown hair, tan, and well dressed. Not as well as Nico had been when Luke first saw him, but neat.

  Luke continued to stare, and Nico shifted in his peripheral vision. A foot tapped his under the table, lurching Luke into action.

  “Kent.” Luke glanced at Nico, who threw daggers at Kent on his behalf, foot still casually pressed up against Luke’s. “What are you doing here?”

  “I was going to ask you the same thing.” Kent gazed at his new boyfriend, hearts in his eyes. “Sebastian was showing me one of his favorite bakeries.”

  Kent turned his attention back to Luke and then swiveled to Nico, his brow quirking.

  Luke jumped. “Oh, right. Kent, this is Nico. Nico, Kent.”

  Nico’s foot moved, stirring air around Luke’s ankle, and Luke weirdly missed the slight pressure.

  Nico stood and held out his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

  Right. Standing. Maybe Luke should too.

  He pushed to his feet, awkwardness settling heavily on his chest, his shoulders.

  Kent’s eyes swept over Nico, and Luke noted the subtle change in his demeanor. “Same.”

  Kent introduced Sebastian, and the entire stiff exchange made Luke uneasy.

  Luke hadn’t meant to imply there was anything between him and Nico, but the way Kent watched them, that’s what he thought.

  Nico tensed at Kent’s dirty look, then met Luke’s gaze. He smiled broadly, moving closer until his hand brushed Luke’s. Tiny sparks skittered along his skin, and it fueled Luke enough to keep his head high.

  “How long have you two been dating?” Nico asked Sebastian.

  “About three months.”

  Three months? Luke cut a look to Kent, who avoided his eyes, cheeks blazing.

  “That’s great,” Nico said tightly. Like he’d done the math, too. “Congrats.”

  “How about you two?” Kent asked rigidly.

  Nico grazed his knuckles over the back of Luke’s hand, then hooked their index fingers together. “Oh, not as long as you,” Nico said, squeezing Luke gently as if to say sorry, or play along. Or both. “We’re in the fun stage.”

  Luke’s voice came out an octave higher than normal. “We’re getting to know each other. Well.”

  “Really, really well,” Nico added with a sly, sexy smile Luke’s way. Luke felt the effects ripple through him. Damn, Nico. Potent.

  “Well, we should get going.” Kent tugged Sebastian toward Esposito’s.

  “Nice meeting you two.” Nico’s friendly wave seemed to irk Kent into retreating faster.

  “See you tomorrow,” Luke muttered. He waited until they were out of earshot and exhaled. “Talk about awkward.”

  “Just a bit. Sorry about the three-month revelation.”

  Luke sighed and slumped back into his seat. “Yeah, well. I guess I’m not surprised.” He still felt the ghost of Nico’s touch on his foot, the back of his hand, and tight at the base of his index finger. “Thanks for . . . you know.”

  Nico nodded, a gentle blush on his cheeks, and returned to his sfogliatelle. “Kent clearly did not like that you’d moved on.”

  “You caught that too?”

  Nico chewed for a minute. “He may as well have it written in permanent marker ove
r his forehead.”

  “You and permanent marker,” Luke said, shaking his head, a grin pulling at his lips. From the corner of his eye, he caught Kent kissing Sebastian and groaned, stomach roiling. “Fuck, why do I care so much?” He looked desperately at Nico. “How did you get over your breakup so fast?”

  Nico looked at his pastry and set it down. His face tightened as he played with the lid of his coffee. “I haven’t. I just hide it better.”

  Not what Luke expected.

  Exhaling loudly, Nico looked at him, sadness swirling in his brown eyes. He shrugged. “I’ve broken up with guys before, but this one really hurt. I’m still processing it. Part of the reason I agreed to come to Philadelphia was to work through what happened.”

  Something itched in Luke to take Nico in his arms and hold him. Protect him from anyone who could lessen his spark, even for a moment. He settled on nudging his foot against Nico’s. “That’s his loss.”

  Nico gave him a half smile. “Life happens, right?

  “Yeah.” They ate more of the sfogliatelle. A splotch of cream stuck to Nico’s lip, and Luke reached over and gently rubbed it off, freezing when he noticed what he was doing. Nico watched him cautiously, big brown eyes that had experienced far more in the dating world than Luke had, and Luke jerked his hand back, willing the heat at his throat to subside. “Ah, thanks for pretending. I owe you.”

  The wariness leaked out of Nico, and he shrugged, grinning. “Someday, and that day may be soon, I will call upon you to do favor for me. But until that day, accept this gesture as a gift in honor of my sister’s wedding.”

  Nico sounded just like Marlon Brando in The Godfather. “You’re sure you’re not part of a family?”

  “No,” Nico continued the imitation. “But I’m serious about you owing me.”

  Luke played along, staring hard into Nico’s eyes. He pushed Nico’s plate back. “Fine, Godfather. What’s your verdict on the sfogliatelle?”

  Chapter Seven

  Nico

  Elisa: Change of plans next weekend. You need to come home. Nonna wants to have a family dinner.