Coming to Tuscany had always been on my bucket list, but I never imagined I’d be here alone. Bitterness pools in my mouth. I thought I’d bring my two-faced, soon-to-be ex-wife here. I’ve always believed that when I married someone, that would be it. Now I’m twenty-six and getting a divorce.
In hindsight, I’m glad I never had the chance to bring Nadine here. At least this gorgeous place won’t be tainted with memories of her.
I arrived in Siena two days ago, and everything went well—I mean, as well as things can go when you travel to a country where you don’t speak the language. Custom differences aside, the trip met all my expectations until today. I should have known nothing good could happen after I was dumb enough to check my emails this morning and became aware of the shitstorm that’s waiting for me back home.
Not only did I receive an email from my lawyer with Nadine’s new demands, but my replacement fell through, and I have to teach my class next semester after all. The plan was to take a year off. I could say the hell with the job, but the school’s principal is an old friend of mine. I can’t fuck him over.
I’m not sure if I’m ready to go back to LA though. Traveling and doing different things is what kept my head above water, what prevented me from going apeshit on the asshole Nadine was cheating on me with—one of my friends.
My hands curl into fists by my sides. Now that the shock of discovery has worn off, I’m mostly angry at myself. How could I have been so blind?
“This is hopeless.”
I lock the car and veer toward town. Staying here and hoping for a miracle won’t cut it. I’m not looking forward to the long haul on foot though.
Two seconds after I make the decision, I hear the sound of a scooter approaching. The first thing I see come up the hill is a mop of blonde hair flying wildly in the wind. Then my gaze drops to the billowing skirt that reveals a pair of very nice legs. The driver slows down, stopping completely just a few steps away from me.
“Ciao. Problemi con la macchina?” the young woman asks.
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 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 shouldn’t 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?
But I’m not an idiot. I’ll take the lift. “Winery Della Vecchia,” I say.
Her delicate eyebrows arch as her plump, cherry-colored lips make a little O shape. I’m hit by 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 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 a particular grape they grow, and a social event would be the perfect opportunity to introduce myself and pick their brains without being too obvious. Visiting their winery was a last-minute, impulsive idea, and it didn’t even occur to me to call beforehand.
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 to the side, 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? Did you 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 even gotten 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 Iron Maiden T-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?”
3
Chiara
A spike of adrenaline shoots up my veins as the American hunk hops behind me on the Vespa, looping his strong arms around my waist. He’s so big, he barely fits on the small scooter.
I try not to think about what I just did. This is most definitely not one of my smartest ideas. Despite my bold talk that I know he isn’t a bad guy, he could very well be a psychopath.
Tonight, I’m willing to take the risk. I can’t face that stupid wedding by myself. I need a distraction, and Mr. Cuddly Bear couldn’t be more perfect. He doesn’t really look like a stuffed toy, more like the opposite. He’s so rugged with those tattoos on his arm, that scruff on his face, and massive body; he’s sure to give my mother a heart attack. Plus, he’s the complete opposite of preppy Pietro. I need different. Maybe it’s high time I forget my cousin’s fiancé.
Aside from the American’s sinful good looks, it was his deep voice that made my blood course faster through my veins and ultimately throw caution out the window.
“Do you make a habit of inviting strange men to join you at family parties?” he asks near my ear, giving me goose bumps.
“No.” I laugh nervously. “I’m Chiara Moretti, by the way. What’s your name?”
“Alistair Walsh.”
Hell and damn. Even his name is sexy.
“That’s not a common American name, is it?”
“Nope. My parents are Irish with Scottish blood.”
“Hmm, how Outlander. Well, nice to meet you, Alistair. See, now we’re no longer strangers.”
I rev the engine and take off, needing to work extra hard to keep the balance with the increased weight.
This is, by far, my craziest stunt. I’m sure I’m going to receive a lecture from my father, and he usually looks the other way when I do something that pisses my mother off. It’s too late now. Besides, knowing Alistair will be there has already
managed to dissipate the anxiety that had been crushing my chest an hour ago. I’m actually giddy, and I don’t even know why exactly.
“So, Alistair,” I scream to be heard over the wind. “What brings you to beautiful Tuscany, business or pleasure?”
“Neither,” he shouts near my ear, his warm breath fanning over my skin and doing crazy things to my body.
My nipples are as hard as pebbles now, and the little hairs at the back of my neck stand on end.
Ah, shit.
As of now, I’ve only slept with two guys, and neither of them was a real man like Alistair. They were boys really, inexperienced as hell.
“Well, that’s a first. I assume you’re here alone?”
Please be alone. Please be alone.
“Yup.”
Relief washes over me.
“Gee, do you always answer in monosyllables?”
“Nope.” He chuckles, and I find myself smiling as well. This will be fun. “I’m sorry. It’s a bit hard to talk with the wind blowing on my face.”
That’s true, but I’m enjoying him shout-whispering near my ear. He has no idea the effect he’s having on me right now. It’s a miracle I can hold a conversation when I’m so aware of his hard chest pressed against my back, of his strong arms wrapped around my waist. Even though I’m the one driving the Vespa, he’s controlling the ride. I might need to change my underwear when I get to Villa Moretti. My panties are soaked. I’ve never gotten so turned on so fast by any guy before.
When my grandparents’ villa finally appears on the horizon, I let out a sigh. Staying this close to Alistair for another minute would have me combusting on the spot.
The building at the top of the hill is a typical stone construction, dating back centuries ago. To strangers, this must seem like an idyllic location, but I never enjoyed coming here. It always involves family affairs, and besides Max, all my cousins are odious.
The first thing I notice is the number of cars parked in the courtyard has doubled.
Alistair whistles as I park the Vespa. “That’s a big party.”
“Not really. Most of the guests are family and close friends.”
I wait until he hops off before I do the same, smoothing my dress. I try to tame my hair next by combing it with my fingers. “Be honest, how close is my hair to resembling a bird’s nest?”
Alistair moves closer, and I have to crane my neck to keep staring at his face. He’s so damn tall, and I’m five foot nothing. To my surprise, he runs his hand through my loose strands, and I have to suppress the moan that threatens to escape my lips. His eyes capture mine, and I begin to drown in the depths of his azure gaze. The color of the Mediterranean Sea. Tiny flecks of turquoise in his irises give an extra depth to an already mesmerizing stare. My breath hitches right before the tip of my tongue darts out to moisten my suddenly dry lips. Alistair’s eyes drop to them, and his Adam’s apple bobs up and down. He wants to kiss me, and I’m dying for him to do so.
“Chiara! Where have you been?” my mother yells from the front door, breaking the spellbinding moment.
Alistair takes a huge step back and turns toward the house, finding my mother there with fire spitting from her mouth.
Fuck, I’m in so much trouble.
“I went to town like I said I would.” I open the Vespa’s storage compartment, retrieving two bags filled with the most expensive cigars I could find.
My mother’s sharp gaze diverts to Alistair, who stays rooted to the spot, watching her warily. I bet he’s regretting his decision right now.
“And who is that man?” my mother asks bluntly.
Ah, shit. I haven’t thought of an excuse to justify Alistair’s presence. Stupid me. I’m glad Alistair doesn’t understand Italian, but I know he couldn’t miss the sharp tone of my mother’s voice. She narrows her eyes at me when I don’t answer right away.
“Um, he is—”
“Ecco, he’s my friend, Aunt Ofelia.” Max joins us in the courtyard to save the day.
Where the heck did he come from?
“Yes, he’s Max’s friend from the US,” I add quickly before my cousin starts speaking in Italian to the poor guy.
I don’t miss the eyebrow raise Max gives me, nor the upturn of his lips.
“Hey, buddy. Glad you could make it.” He pats Alistair’s back as if they are indeed friends.
“Thanks for inviting me.” Alistair doesn’t miss a beat, following along with the charade.
Phew. A good sign. Looks like he wants some booty, and I’m all too happy to oblige. The thought of having a one-night stand with Alistair makes my core throb in anticipation. Crap. I’m not prone to bouts of insta-lust. I usually require some major flirting and alcohol before I even contemplate sleeping with someone. That explains why I’ve only had a couple of hookups. Most of my friends from school have lost count of the number of casual sex encounters they’ve had. I’m the most prudish eighteen-year-old at All Saints, despite what the rumors say. And I have Paola to thank for that. Before she graduated high school, she made sure to tarnish my reputation just for kicks.
Max turns to me with a glint of mischief in his gaze. “Say, Chibi, how did you find my friend?”
I blink a couple of times to clear my mind from my stray thoughts. “Oh, he had car trouble. I found him on the side of the road with a flat tire and no jack.”
Max glances up and down at Alistair’s clothes. “Come on, let me get you something to wear. My family will flip out if they see you come in wearing jeans and a T-shirt.”
Alistair throws me an uncertain glance.
I nod in encouragement. “I’ll catch you later. It was very nice to meet you, Alistair.”
He follows Max inside, and as soon as they disappear over the threshold, my mother grabs my forearm and pulls me closer. “If you think I buy for one second that half-baked excuse Max concocted, you’re sorely mistaken, Chiara.”
“It’s not an excuse. Alistair is Max’s friend from New York.”
“Do you think I was born yesterday? I know you very well. I’m sick of your shenanigans. If your father hadn’t already paid for your year abroad, I wouldn’t let you go to California. You may fool him into believing you’re going for your education, but I know all you care about is parties and sleeping around.”
I pull my arm from her grasp and rub the sore spot. I’ll have an angry red mark there, but that’s not what’s making my eyes burn. “Go ahead, Mother, just call me a whore.”
“You sound so offended,” she sneers. “I know very well what you were up to in Milan. Your cousin filled me in on the sordid details.”
“Paola is a fucking liar!” I finally lose control of my emotions.
Fury flickers in my mother’s eyes. She grabs my chin, digging her long nails into my skin painfully. “You’d better watch your tongue. I’ll not tolerate that kind of filthy language.”
I step back, freeing myself from her sharp talons. There are so many things I want to say, but the words get lodged in my throat. Yes, I have ulterior motives for going to California. I want to escape all the fucking stares and gossip from All Saints. Thanks to my cousin’s lies, everyone thinks I’m a nympho. The distance is also a great motivator. Maybe with an entire ocean and country between us, my family will forget I exist.
“Don’t worry, Mother. I’ll make sure to keep my profanities to a minimum.” I turn on my heels and flee back to the house. I won’t give her the satisfaction of seeing me cry.
I don’t find Max and Alistair anywhere, and for that, I’m grateful. If Max sees me in this state and the mark on my arm, he’s going to lose his shit. He’s another one who hasn’t been very lucky in the parental department. While my mother abuses me mostly with words, Max’s father enjoyed using him as a punching bag. Thank fuck that asshole is now in jail.
I veer toward the kitchen, where the caterers are in full swing preparing food for the party. I spot what I’m looking for right away, and before anyone can say anything, I wrap my fingers around the bot
tle of Chianti and bolt out of the room.
But the problem is, where can I hide? If I manage to slip outside unseen, I can take the track down the valley and find a spot out of sight.
I veer in that direction but stop after a couple of steps when I hear the sound of overly cheery female voices approaching the house.
Paola’s friends. Ugh.
Looking left and right, I make a split-second decision and enter the first room to my right.
It’s not empty. Alistair is there wearing nothing but his boxer shorts.
My jaw drops while my heart jumps up to my throat, getting stuck there.
Mamma mia.
I don’t care that my reputation is already in the gutter. I’m so riding that tonight.
4
Alistair
I freeze when I hear the door open, finding Chiara standing there with a bottle of red wine in her hand. The deer-in-headlights look on her face tells me she didn’t come looking for me. On instinct, I place my hands in front of my crotch to cover the sudden arousal her presence has caused.
Jesus fucking Christ. I’m not a perv. Why is my body acting like I’m one?
Her gaze drops below my waist, and I fight not to squirm where I stand.
“Madonna Santa! I’m so sorry. I thought the room was empty,” she says but makes no motion to leave.
“I was about to change into the clothes your cousin brought me.”
“Right.”
She closes the door behind her and ventures farther into the room, making me even more tense. What is she playing at here? I’m not naïve when it comes to women and their games. I’ve seen plenty of them in action before. However, instead of preparing to rebuff her if she tries to come on to me, I’m actually looking forward to it.
Maybe Nadine and her betrayal did irreparable damage to my brain and turned me into a perv after all.
Blurry: A Student Teacher, Age Gap Romance Page 2
