by M. H. Soars
I don’t speak Italian, but I can guess what she’s saying, so I nod. My tongue is stuck in my mouth. I lost the ability to speak because I’m too fucking busy admiring the stranger. The only words that pop in my head to describe her are achingly beautiful. Shit. I must be losing my mind. I’m too old to be having such visceral reactions to attractive women.
She continues in Italian, and I soon become lost. I only know the basic words to get around. “Sorry, no parlo italiano.”
“Ah, you’re American. Let me guess, the rental company forgot to add the jack?”
“Yes. Is that a normal occurrence here?”
“I don’t know. It was just a guess. You have the spare out, but you weren’t changing the tire. I doubt the reason is lack of knowledge or physical ability.”
I can’t help but raise an eyebrow at her as the corners of my lips twitch upward. God, when was the last time I felt such easy amusement? I cross my arms in front of my chest and say, “How do you know I’m not an overly pampered ass without any hand skills?”
Her blue gaze makes a quick scan of my six-foot-three frame before she smirks. “I seriously doubt that’s the case. Where were you headed? Maybe I can give you a lift?”
My heart kicks up a notch, and I feel like a fucking teenager suffering from my first major crush. This is absolutely insane. Despite my body’s reaction, I frown at her. Hasn’t anyone taught her how unwise it is to offer rides to strangers, especially pretty girls like her?
“Winery Della Vecchia.”
Her delicate eyebrows arch as her plump, cherry-colored lips make a little O shape. I’m hit with a sudden urge to kiss the hell out of her, and in the same breath, I berate myself for having such inappropriate thoughts. I’m not a fucking caveman.
“Oh, they aren’t open today,” she says.
“They don’t open on Saturdays?”
“They usually do, but today they’re closed.” She pauses and seems to be deep in thought before she peers at me from under her thick eyelashes. “Do you feel like crashing a wedding party?”
The sudden change of subject takes me by surprise. “What?”
“I know it sounds crazy, but if you were looking to taste some amazing wine, my cousin’s wedding is the place to be.”
“I wasn’t going to the winery for wine tasting alone.”
“Oh, you were hoping to talk with the Della Vecchias?”
“Yes.”
“Then you should definitely come with me. They’ll be there.”
Staring hard at the gorgeous woman in front of me, I can’t believe I’m actually contemplating her offer. I was hoping to chat with the Della Vecchias about the wine business, and a social event would be the perfect opportunity to pick their brains.
She doesn’t cower from my intense gaze; instead, she stares right back at me with a glint of amusement in her eyes. Cocking her head, she smiles. “You’re not afraid of me, are you? I promise I’m not a psycho.”
I chuckle, running a hand through my hair. “What if I’m the psycho? Have you ever paused to consider that?”
Her bright smile turns into a smirk as she narrows her gaze. “Nah. You’re not a psycho. You look more like a cuddly bear.”
I do something I haven’t done in a long time. I throw my head back and laugh loudly, as a feeling of euphoria spreads through my chest.
“See, you’re already having fun, and we haven’t got there yet.”
The laughter is gone, but the excitement is still coursing through my veins.
“I don’t think I’m wearing appropriate clothes to attend a wedding.” I stare down at my jeans and tight polo shirt.
“I can find you clothes. Come on. Where’s your sense of adventure?”
The sassy smile that blossoms on her lips is what seals my fate.
“What the hell. Why not?”
**End of Sneak Peek**
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Author’s Note
I sincerely hope you enjoyed the conclusion to Saylor and Oliver’s story. If you did enjoy Devils Don’t Fly, there are a number of ways you can help spread the word.
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About the Author
M. H. Soars always knew creative arts were her calling but not in a million years did she think she would become an author. With a background in fashion design she thought she would follow that path. But one day, out of the blue, she had an idea for a book. One page turned into ten pages, ten pages turned into a hundred, and before she knew, her first novel, The Prophecy of Arcadia, was born.
M. H. Soars resides in The Netherlands with her husband and daughter. She is currently working on the Love Me, I’m Famous series.
M. H. Soars also writes Sci-Fantasy under the pen name Michelle Hercules.
Connect with M. H. Soars:
@mhsoars
mhsoars
www.mhsoars.com
[email protected]
