of salt. The invitation was out there, and they could take it or leave it. Moving his chair back, Rocco set his plate down, then reached for his coffee and took several swallows now that it had cooled to a reasonable temperature. He jolted a little when the chair opposite him was filled, Levi looking a shade nervous, but James joined him a few moments later with a pad of paper and a pen.
Rocco took it and saw scrawled across the top in messy script, ‘I’m James Motel. My brothers and I own this place. This is Levi Kadish. Neither of us really sign, sorry.’
Rocco waved them off. “It’s fine. I don’t read lips well, thanks for the paper.” He studied them to see if they were put off by his speech, but Levi only looked relieved, and James was scribbling again.
‘My brother checked you in last night. I hope you’re enjoying your stay.’
Rocco glanced down, then he thought of his baker. And then he smiled. “It’s been nice. I had dinner with Simon last night.”
He didn’t miss the way Levi choked on his drink so hard, his face went bright red. James said something, rubbing his back, but Levi pushed him away with firm hand and sharp tongue, then grabbed the pen from him.
‘You know my brother?’
Rocco frowned, and instead of speaking Simon’s business to the whole restaurant, he took the pen for himself. ‘We’re friends. He never mentioned me?’
He saw the way Levi dragged his lips between his teeth, the way he looked nervous. Levi had known that Simon was a fan, but apparently Simon had kept their friendship to himself. It stirred something in him—warm and kind of wonderful. Proof in the softest, best way that Simon had meant what he said. He hadn’t gone parading around sharing who Rocco was, hadn’t spread his personal business, not even to his brother.
It was a wonder, and he wanted to go find Simon right then and kiss him…and kiss him until he couldn’t breathe, and kiss him until he came. He fought back a shiver before looking down at Levi’s neater script. ‘He doesn’t tell me a lot. It’s nice of you to come visit.’
There was something in Levi’s face now—maybe hurt, or confusion. Rocco hadn’t meant to cause trouble. He appreciated that Simon had kept it to himself, but it was possible that was a symptom of a bigger problem between the brothers. He couldn’t understand it, of course. He came from a family who over-shared to the point of rage.
“We haven’t known each other long. I…had some personal problems and he was kind. I didn’t expect a friendship, but he offered me one. I like him.”
Levi’s face softened again, and there was the spark of something more. Pride, maybe? Rocco wished he knew these people a little better. Levi took a breath, then nodded and wrote a bit longer. ‘Simon’s a good guy. That doesn’t surprise me. Anyway, I hope you don’t think I’m rude but I was getting breakfast to go. James is helping me with my food truck today, but if you come by the farmer’s market tonight, stop by and I’ll give you some pastries to try.’
‘Thank you,’ Rocco offered, fingers tipping from his chin.
Levi knew sign enough to respond with, ‘You’re welcome,’ before he gathered his plate and left, James following close at his heels.
Maybe he really had fucked something up, but he liked Simon too much to care. There was a long day ahead of him before he could see Simon again, but knowing it could be measured in hours made all the difference in the world.
Chapter Seven
Rocco was nervous. It was a new experience for him—or at least, it had been a damn long while since anyone had given him sweaty palms and butterflies in his stomach. But Simon did. He’d texted him a couple of times that day, had even gotten a selfie of him with flour dusting his cheeks and a golden glow of afternoon sunlight creating a halo around his short curls.
Rocco wanted to kiss him again. He wanted to press Simon against the wall and feel the way he groaned, the way his breath made his entire body heave, the way he seized and trembled with an untouched orgasm. Rocco didn’t entirely know what it meant that Simon was so worked up over a single kiss. Even his biggest fans had more restraint than that—and Rocco didn’t think it was obsession.
It felt like something bigger.
He distracted himself