“Can we cut the jokes?” Luke shifted his gaze from the table to Nico. “I know what you’re doing, and I appreciate it, but I can take care of myself.”
“I know, but . . .” No but. Nico had to respect Luke’s position. “I won’t push it again. I’m sorry.”
Luke puffed up his cheeks, blew out the air. “You’re being super nice.”
“But it makes you uncomfortable. Got it.”
Silence stretched between them, all kinds of awkward fun.
Luke’s Adam’s apple jutted. “I shouldn’t have taken this internship, but it was the only Big Four offer I got. And, well, there was Kent.”
“What should you have done instead?”
“Taken a different offer closer to home.” He shrugged. “Or gone home to work on a farm.”
“Are your parents farmers?”
“God, no.” Luke laughed. “We live in a subdivision. Dad’s a manager for a national insurance company, and Mom’s a tech at a hospital.”
“Okay, so where’s this farm you’d have worked on?”
“They’re all around us, actually. I’ve always found work during the summer.”
“So this year’s a change for you.”
“Big time.” Luke’s soft voice made him seem homesick.
Nico suppressed the urge to lean in and hug him. He wasn’t sure where Luke stood with casual contact. Probably wouldn’t welcome it, jock that he was.
Luke straightened in his chair. “My parents didn’t love Kent, but they supported me taking the internship. They’re helping me afford a summer with no job.”
“And you don’t want to keep asking them for more.”
“Exactly. They already give me more than they should. Dad keeps telling me it’s fine because I got a scholarship, but they need the money.”
Living with Isaiah for two years, Nico totally got it.
A sad, faraway look tinted Luke’s eyes. “This summer I wanted to prove I can be independent.”
Curiosity gnawed at Nico. “Why?”
Luke paused as if weighing how much to share. Vulnerability glinted in his eyes, and Nico wished he’d kept his mouth shut. “You don’t have to answer that—”
“My sister is autistic, and it’s unlikely she’ll be able to live on her own. Their biggest fear is what will happen when they’re gone.”
Nico held back a flood of questions. His picture of Luke became fuller with every hour they spent together—and Nico liked the glimpses of the man he saw inside. “Okay. I can see that.”
“My parents have been balancing saving for her future and helping me. They feel that they should give us equal.” He shook his head vehemently. “I don’t need equal. Rosalie needs to be their focus.”
“And you wanted them to see they could focus on your sister.”
“Yet every decision I’ve made does the opposite.”
“Luke . . .” Nico floundered for the right words. “I’ll be more sensitive to your situation.”
“You’re fine. Really.” Luke perked up and flashed him a grin. “Your excuses suck, though. No one breaks out in hives from cheap sheets.”
“No, but do you need king-size sheets?”
“Ah, no.”
“Me neither. I figure I’ll send them home when we go back to school, but Nonna would never use ones with low thread count.”
“Low what?”
“Thread count. The higher the count, the better the quality of the fabric.”
Luke looked skeptical. “I never knew that.”
“It’s true. So it would’ve been a waste of money if we’d bought something Nonna would never use.” That, and she’d give Nico the business for not spending wisely. Quality before quantity, always.
Luke eyed Nico quietly. “Can I ask you something?”
“Why am I afraid?”
Luke laughed, low and creamy. “Because you’re a paranoid city boy?”
Nico crossed his arms. “That’s so me. What’s your question, country boy?”
“You talk way more about your grandparents than your parents. What’s up with that?”
“Ah, that.” Nico kept his tone light. “Got a minute?”
“Want me to make coffee?”
“Are you any good at it? You think ramen is a meal.”
“Funny. I can handle coffee.” He popped up and opened the cabinet where they’d stashed the coffee. “Talk while I measure.”
“I think you like being in charge, too.” Luke reddened, and Nico smiled innocently. “The bakery has been in the family for four generations. Five if you count me. But things are very different now than they were even thirty-five years ago when Nonno’s father died. My grandfather didn’t adapt to change very well.
“Nonno is an amazing pastry chef and baker, but a lousy business owner. He’d make too much of one thing that didn’t sell and not enough of what people wanted. He’d order too much butter and it’d go bad, but they never had enough flour or sugar. People wanted premium coffee and he stuck with the cheaper stuff. That kind of thing. And he was terrible at managing employees.”
“Wow, dude. Don’t hold back.” Luke glanced up from scooping grounds into the basket. “I thought you liked him?”
“I love him to death. Who do you think told me all this?”
“Really?”
“Yep. He knew he was killing the business, but like all Amatos, he wouldn’t ask for help. Finally, Nonna stepped in.”