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  “Actually, they really like you.”

  “You don’t have to be nice.”

  “No, really. If they didn’t like you, you’d know it. Elisa brought home this total dickwad once. Five minutes into dinner, Papà and Nonno started talking smack about him in Italian. Nonna called him a jackass, which is about the second-worst curse word she uses.”

  “What did your sister say when this was happening?”

  “I think she was more embarrassed by the guy than by the family. Even she could tell he was being a jackass.” Nico picked up his glass. “You, however, were great.”

  “Right.”

  “I’m serious. You were respectful, but not too meek. You didn’t try to turn any conversation onto yourself, and you offered to help clear the table. That alone earned you Nonna’s seal of approval.”

  “Now I know you’re lying. She almost stabbed me with her fork when I offered.”

  Nico snorted. “I saw that. But it’s not what you think. Guests don’t help.”

  “Elliott helped.”

  “Yeah, but he’s about to marry my sister. If you kept coming home with me, then they’d expect you to help.” Nico bit his lip, frowned, and stared into the yard. “But I promise I won’t foist this craziness on you again.”

  The finality of Nico’s promise filled Luke with . . . something. Regret came closest. “It’s all good. Your family’s great.”

  “They are great, and I love them to death.”

  “But?”

  Nico eyed the back door and leaned in to whisper, “Sometimes they’re a bit much.”

  Luke laughed. “That’s all families.” He bumped his shoulder against Nico’s. When Nico pushed back, Luke didn’t move.

  They sat, pressed together, staring out at the yard.

  Fake boyfriends. Fake boyfriends. Fake.

  Nico had made it clear he wasn’t ready to date, let alone have a boyfriend.

  Besides, Luke wasn’t in the right place to date either. So why did it feel like jolts of electricity kept zapping between them? And why, when the conversation inside had gotten lively, had Luke felt warm and heavy? Like he was with family.

  A burst of laughter made them both turn toward the house. “Something’s funny,” Luke said.

  Nico finished his wine, arm shifting from Luke’s, and Luke felt the loss.

  “Work, children, or neighbors. It has to be one of those topics. If I had to guess, it would be kids. Probably my brother Joey sent a picture of his kids doing something silly.”

  “Are you and your brother close?”

  “Sorta yes and sorta no.” Nico tucked his right leg under his ass and turned toward Luke. “He’s ten years older than me. I was eight the last time we spent more than a few days together. There weren’t a lot of shared interests during those years.”

  Luke snorted. “I can see how that’d happen.”

  “Then he went to college in California, met his wife, went to med school, had children, and in general began adulting way before I was ready to join him. Joey always made time for me when he was home, and I love him to death, but we never had the time Elisa and I did.”

  “You miss him.”

  Nico smiled. “Missed having him when he left.”

  “Did you tell him?”

  “No,” he said softly. “Joey needed to fly off. He loves us, but what you see inside tends to overwhelm him. I was really mad at him when he left. When I got older, Nonna told me he didn’t want to leave me and Elisa, but he needed to go away to find himself.”

  “Having left Iowa to do the same, I understand.”

  A sad smile appeared, and Nico seemed far away. “He never wanted to be a baker. Didn’t want to live in this family compound surrounded by generations. He didn’t want his kids to feel the weight of expectations he didn’t want to embrace. Everyone understands, and no one is mad at him for leaving. Well, no one other than his eight-year-old brother.”

  “Not his twenty-one-year-old brother?”

  “Nope. I’m happy for him.” Nico returned his gaze to Luke. “But I miss him.”

  “I get it.”

  Nico stirred on the bench and rubbed his jaw. “This might not be the best time to share this, but I got an email from Amazon about the air mattress.”

  Luke’s stomach lurched. “And?”

  “It was damaged in shipping and they cancelled the order, but I’m free to reorder it.”

  A laugh bubbled out of Luke. “Ugh! They did that to me once. Said that because a third party sold it, they didn’t automatically ship a new one.”

  “Exactly, which is some bullshit.” Nico took a deep breath and blew it out. “I’ll order a new one tonight, and I’ll pay for the express shipping this time.”

  “You don’t need to do that.” Luke clapped his mouth shut. “I mean, why spend the extra money? Sharing a bed hasn’t been an issue. Has it?”

  Nico glanced down at their feet and then looked up at Luke, almost shyly. “No, you’ve been a perfect gentleman.”

  “So save the money.”

  “I won’t order until tomorrow, so if you change your mind, let me know.”

  “You betcha. But I won’t.”

  Nico shoulder-bumped him, their arms settling together—

  The back door opened, and they jerked apart.

  “Hey, guys,” Elisa said, face rosy from wine. “Dessert is ready.”

  “Thanks, E. We’re coming in.” Nico grabbed his wineglass.

  He couldn’t tell for sure, but Nico appeared to adjust himself before moving from the bench. That he kept his back to Luke was good: it gave Luke time to do the same.

  After another glass of the “full-bodied” zinfandel and dessert, Luke sat in an armchair and basked in the merry buzz thrumming through his veins.

  Dinner had been nice. Nicer was how Nico watched out for him, stopping his father from serving Luke a second glass of port. “He’s not used to this much wine, Papà,” he’d said. “Too much of this might make him sick.”

  Someone clomped down the stairs. Had to be Nico. Everyone else said they were going to sleep. Bakers’ hours, Nico’s father said as he shook Luke’s hand.

  Luke felt Nico’s presence prickle at his side and opened his eyes.

  “Hey.” Nico grinned and set a glass of water on the table beside him. “Helps prevent hangovers.”

  “I didn’t drink that much.”

  “Port is notorious for giving hangovers.” Nico drained a third of his own glass.

  Luke followed the example. “I have a question. A couple, actually.”

  “Hopefully, I have good answers.”

  He tried to give Nico what Nonna called the stink eye. “Right, because any old answer wouldn’t do.”

  “I’m not the one who prefaced things with, ‘I have a question.’ Did you think I wouldn’t realize you were asking me something?”

  “Remind me again why I came here?”

  Nico snorted and perched on the arm of Luke’s chair. “Because you are one of the nicest guys on the planet and you didn’t want to see me suffer.”

  Maybe it was the buzz playing tricks on him, but it didn’t sound like Nico was being sarcastic. “Right, not like I owed you or nothing.”

  “If you really felt obligated, you’d have said no when I asked.” He toasted Luke with his water. Their glasses dinged. “You’re a good friend.”

  Luke sucked in a deep breath. Friend. Yeah. Yeah, he liked the label.

  So what if they’d only known each other a couple of weeks? Luke had never been so in tune with someone before. So comfortable.

  Friend.

  Friend.

  Nico licked a drop of water from his finger, and Luke dropped his gaze resolutely to his glass. “What’s your first question, Luke?”

  Luke rubbed the rim of his glass with his thumb and looked over at Nico’s pink shirt and tight—Christ, so tight—jeans. “You dressed different today.” Better.

  A moment of silence stretched the air between them.
“Was that supposed to be a question? Perhaps you need to revisit first grade English?”

  “I mean, you’re dressed like the first couple of times I saw you.”

  “Still not a question.”

  “Why?”

  Nico shrugged, and for one awful second Luke thought he’d get off the arm of the chair and force more distance between them. A tight laugh left Nico. One Luke didn’t trust a bit. “Nonna thinks I should dress nicer when we have company for dinner.”

  Luke didn’t believe Nico for a second, but he also felt Nico’s resistance to talk about it. “Gotcha.”

  He’d piece together the mystery another time.

  “What’s your other question?” Nico asked.

  Luke took another gulp of water. “What was up with all that tapping the glasses with knives?”

  Nico squirmed on the arm of the chair. “Ah, that. Practice.”

  “Practice? Does your family do the carol of the wine glasses instead of bells at Christmas?”

  “You’re so not a real Italian.” Nico twisted so he faced Luke. “At Italian weddings—and major milestone anniversary parties, too—when someone wants the bride and groom to kiss, they tap their knife to the wineglass. If everyone joins in, the couple of the day has to oblige. Once they kiss, all the happy couples are supposed to join in.”

  “And if a couple doesn’t kiss?”

  “The rest of the family gossips about how they’re on the rocks.” Nico fanned his hands on his chest, mimicking the drama. “Did you see so-and-so? They didn’t kiss after the bride and groom. I bet there’s infidelity going on. Do you think she’s schtupping the bakery guy?”

  “Schtupping? You made that up.”

  Nico stared at him blankly. Finally, he shook his head, lips twitching. “No, I didn’t, but clearly civilization stops at the Mississippi river. It’s another word for shagging, bumping uglies, the mattress mambo, or if none of those ring a bell, fucking.”

  Luke reached over Nico and set his glass on the table. The proximity of Luke’s arm over Nico’s warm lap had Nico tensing and Luke hurriedly pulled back. “So if a couple doesn’t kiss, your family will think there’s trouble in paradise?”

  “It’s all talk. The older generation needs something scandalous to keep their blood moving.” He shrugged. “Nonno thinks it’s funny to make E and Elliott practice whenever they’re over for dinner.”

  “And your parents and grandparents followed their lead.”

  “Every time.”

  “And we didn’t.”

  Nico blinked rapidly, then he held up a finger. “Ah, right. No, we didn’t, but no one really expected us to.”

  “Because . . .? Do they think we’re schtupping other people?”

  Nico laughed so hard, he dropped into the armchair with Luke. He immediately apologized and shifted, and Luke grabbed his arm, keeping him on the cushion.

  Nico glanced down at Luke’s hand and swallowed. “They don’t expect us to join in because you’re not well-versed in our family traditions.”

  Luke’s blood thrummed until he could hear his heart in his ears. It was the wine. It was Nico, making him feel like he stood on a live wire. He lowered his voice. “But I am now.”

  “Hmm?” Nico wriggled next to him, like he was torn between jumping to his feet and twisting his body to face Luke’s.

  “Will they do this again at brunch tomorrow?”

  “I would think so. Yeah.”

  “Which means they’ll assume I know what it means, and by our not kissing, they’ll figure out we’re not really dating.”

  Nico sucked air through his teeth and avoided looking at Luke. “I doubt it. We haven’t been ‘dating’ long enough for it to apply to us. And besides,” he flashed Luke a grin, “I need to come clean at some point. If this makes them ask, it’ll be a good time to tell them the truth.”

  In their almost two weeks together, Luke had realized Nico hid his emotions well—until you knew him better. Usually it was a small change in facial expression followed by an over-compensating smile. This mattered to Nico. He might think he should tell his family they weren’t dating, but he didn’t want to tell them.

  The flush on Nico’s cheeks deepened.

  Luke lifted a hand to Nico’s chin and steered his face around. Nico’s eyes were dark and glittery, and his lips parted—

  Luke leaned forward and kissed him. Soft, at first. A question. Their breaths tangled, and Nico didn’t turn away.

  Luke clasped the back of Nico’s neck and pressed their lips together again. A little moan slipped out of Nico, and the sound rippled shivers through Luke. He darted his tongue over Nico’s bottom lip—

  Nico pulled back suddenly, whispering, “What are we doing?”

  “Practicing.”

  “Practicing?”

  “When your family starts tapping wineglasses tomorrow, I don’t want it to be the first time we’ve kissed. It’ll be a dead giveaway. So . . . practice.”

  Nico gnawed his lip as he processed the explanation. A small smile pulled at his lips. “Practice.”

  Luke tilted forward. “Practice.”

  Their lips met again, and Nico’s parted, inviting Luke to deepen the kiss.

  A practice kiss. Fake.

  But that didn’t stop Luke’s heart hammering at the feeling of Nico’s tongue sliding against his own. Didn’t stop him tasting the trace of sweet port and melting at Nico’s low groan. Didn’t stop his dick from getting fired up.

  Nico returned the kiss, matching Luke for every thrust of his tongue. His hand slid around Luke’s waist, the warmth of his gripping fingers soaking into him.

  Nico kissed Luke like he enjoyed what he was doing. If Luke ranked all the things he wanted from a boyfriend, a good kisser would be near the top. Kent had failed that requirement. He’d never seemed to like kissing. Never leaned into it as passionately as Nico was doing.

  God, that was a huge turn-on. Of course his fake boyfriend had to tick that box.

  Fake. Dammit. This couldn’t go on forever—no matter how easy it was. He was kissing Nico so they wouldn’t be awkward at brunch tomorrow. So they’d keep Nico’s nonna happy.

  That was all.

  That. Was. All.

  Chapter Nine

  Nico

  Elisa: OMG, boo! I love it. So much better than the one she picked.

  Nico: She didn’t know you like I do.

  Elisa: This plus the flowers! You’re the best!

  Nico: Just doing my job.

  “Really?” Nico almost dropped the phone trying to access his calendar. “Sure, I can be there tomorrow at ten.”

  Pen in hand, he grabbed a napkin and wrote down the name he’d been given. When he finished, he nodded. What a dork. Mrs. Esposito couldn’t see him over the phone. “Yes, got it. Thank you.”

  He disconnected the call and tossed the phone on the couch. This was good. Well, he thought it was good. Elisa would complain, and Papà would ask—only half joking—why he was paying Nico.

  “This calls for a celebration.” Saying that to an empty apartment killed the euphoria. “Or a run.”

  Two plus weeks into his stint as a wedding planner, he’d finished most of his to-do list. Things would pick up the week before the wedding, but that was weeks away. He was getting bored.

  Glancing at the clock on the microwave, he waffled on the run. His and Luke’s first two days back from New York, Luke had worked late. And texted Nico both times. It was very considerate, but also a bit curious. Had their fake kissing made Luke leery of coming home?

  Was he embarrassed by the way Nico’s family had oohhed and ahhed over their short but electric kiss at brunch? He’d felt Luke tremble beside him after they were done and had clasped a steadying hand on his knee under the table.

  Just a friendly squeeze. Just to say thanks and are you okay?

  Luke had been the one to thread his fingers over Nico’s and place their joined hands on the table where all the family could see. Luke had been the one t
o kiss him in front of his family again before they left for the train . . .

  But maybe, that weekend behind them, Luke felt silly how into the fake thing he’d gotten?

  Nico sighed, tried not to recall the delicious pressure of Luke’s lips against his own.

  He changed and stretched. If Luke didn’t stay late or go out with coworkers, he’d be home soon. Nico could start cooking then. Otherwise, he’d go for a run and make dinner when he got back.

  Sitting on the living room floor, he reached forward until he felt it in his hamstrings. He’d switched legs twice and was about to do the right leg the second time when Luke popped through the front door. He jumped when he saw Nico on the floor.

  “Crap, you scared me.”

  “I have that effect on people.” Nico leaned into his stretch without looking up.

  “I’d ask the obvious, but I assume you’re going for a run?” Luke walked past him and into their bedroom.

  “I wasn’t sure when you’d be home tonight.” He stood and loosened up his quads. “Now that you’re here, I’ll make dinner.”

  His tie gone, Luke stepped into the common room, unbuttoning his white dress shirt. “So you do wait for me to make dinner.”

  Nico stared at the slip of threadbare undershirt that did little to hide Luke’s defined chest. “Huh? Oh.” Nico pulled his gaze to Luke’s face, forcing himself to shrug nonchalantly. “I told you I don’t like eating alone.”

  “Me neither. Do you mind waiting? I’d love to go running with you.”

  “You want to run with me?”

  “Why do you sound so skeptical? Afraid I’ll smoke you?”

  The smug jock-boy look on Luke’s face reminded Nico why he preferred running alone. “Please. I’ve been running since I was ten. Even after soccer, I kept up my training. Maybe I’m skeptical because I don’t want you to slow me down?”

  “Ouch.” Luke grimaced. “I totally deserved that, didn’t I?”

  “And more. Get changed, stretch, and we’ll see who smokes whom.”