by Nina Hatch
Yes, I’ve been on the tour. The first time I went because I mistakenly fell asleep in a chick’s hotel room after a one night stand and I couldn’t shake her until the afternoon, and the next seventeen times I went by myself to study the woodwork and details.
I give in. “Okay. What about the church?”
“Do you know how many years it took to build this?”
“About 800 I guess.”
“Exactly. That means that every single person who worked on it when it was just beginning died before they had a chance to see it completed.”
“This is really making me feel a lot better, Ernesto,” I tell him, taking a swig of wine.
“Good. It should make you feel better. Because the time each craftsman spent still mattered. The church would not be complete, would not be this beautiful, without the work of every person. And why should a human life be any different than a work of art? Now, I can see that this girl you met is special to you. Tell me, Jacopo, is there anything you can do to make her time in Italy more complete? Anything you can teach her on her journey? Anything she can teach you on yours?”
I think about that for a minute, swirling the rest of my wine in my cup before taking it down in one final gulp. I think about how talented Olivia is as a designer, even though she can’t see it. How effortless she is when she stops controlling her every thought. How complete and at peace I feel when I’m around her.
Meeting Ernesto’s eyes, I give him a single nod.
“Bene. So go. Get her back. Give her something beautiful.”
“But what about when she goes back to her real life?”
He squeezes my shoulder. “You’ll mend. Besides, you seem pretty real to me.”
It doesn’t take me much time to realize how much I want Olivia back in my life — how much I want to continue our adventure together. I know we’ll still have an expiration date, but the thought of never seeing her again makes me physically ill. Besides, Olivia has only experienced one of my talents — the one where I leave — and I think she’s going to like the other two a lot more.
The Venus is still docked at the Schiaro pier, but I want to come back the same way I left, so I end up diving back into the ocean and swimming out to the yacht.
Teddy is out on deck wiping saltwater off the hull, and after I catch his attention from where I’m treading water below, he finds Olivia in under a minute.
I’m not ready for the way I feel when her face appears over the rail, blonde curls floating in the breeze as she leans over. Her lips are turned down in a scowl, one eyebrow arched, but there’s something about the way her eyes graze over my bare wet chest that makes me think I still have a chance.
“Liv, I came to say I’m sorry,” I yell up.
She doesn’t say anything, and it’s hard to read her body language from where I am in the water, but I keep going.
“All I have is a string of excuses, but they all lead back to the fact that I acted like a jackass this morning.”
“I’m listening,” she calls down.
“I shouldn’t have left you. Not again. Not like that.” In truth, I don’t think I ever want to leave her ever again. “All my life I’ve pushed people away before they can get too close to hurt me, and I don’t want to do that with you.”
Olivia chews on her lip, thinking it over. The sparkle in her green eyes gives her away though, I’m wearing her down.
Then she opens her gorgeous mouth to speak to me. “Well, if you would have waited around for maybe just two minutes, we could have talked about it. Because I’m sorry too. I didn’t mean to imply that I know what’s best for you. That’s what my parents have done all my life. And you were right, I don’t know you very well…but I think I’d like to,” she says, a little shyly now.
The broadest grin breaks out across my face. I want to climb up the yacht and swing her into my arms. But I know the guests haven’t disembarked quite yet, so I stay in the water.
“So I’ve been stuck in the past, you’ve been worrying about the future, why don’t we just meet each other in the present?” I say.
“We’re off tomorrow night,” Claire shouts out, popping up over Olivia’s shoulder from the spot where she must have been hiding and listening all this time.
I laugh. “Tomorrow night, then? What do you say, can we start over again for the third time?”
“I can’t wait,” Liv says.
Chapter Thirteen
Olivia
Walking down the boarding plank with the rest of the Venus crew, I see Jake standing on the edge of the pier. My heart leaps into my throat at the way he looks at me, his eyes piercing, even from afar. He’s wearing dark jeans and a white Oxford shirt that fits tight to his broad shoulders, sleeves rolled up to show off his thick forearms. In his hand, he’s holding a single yellow flower, the same kind he brought to my sister’s wedding.
“Have fun tonight,” Claire says, twirling my hair as she pulls me close.
“And don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Teddy chimes in with a smirk.
“Right, so what exactly does that leave off the table then?” I ask.
He takes a second to think about it. “Hmm, not a damn thing, as it turns out. Oh, and tomorrow, I’m gonna need details, missy, so don’t hold back on me. I’m talking duration, stamina, girth —”
“Okay, I think she gets the point. Off you go then,” Claire cuts in.
The mist coming off the water clings to my bare legs as I head down the pier, and I’m almost floating in my new blue dress that I picked up on one of my afternoons off with Lucy, a filmy silk number that skims my body and shows off my developing tan.
I’m trying to act professional in front of Captain Todd, Mel, and the rest of the crew, but as I get closer, I break into an actual little skip, leaping into Jake’s arms as soon as I’m close enough. He picks me up easily and spins me around once before setting me back down, lacing his fingers through mine. He smells like soap and cedar with a hint of oregano.
“Missed me, did you?”
“No,” I tease, shoving him in the chest. “Why, did you go somewhere? I hadn’t even noticed.”
I’ve only been consumed by thoughts of him ever since he left the ship. Every night, I go to sleep dreaming about his hands and his mouth stroking my body, and in every quiet moment, my mind dips back to the memory of his defined chest and the cut of his abs. Let’s just say my shower this afternoon took an extra long time, and it wasn’t just because it’s damn near impossible to shave your legs in our cabinet of a bathroom…
“So, where are you taking me?”
“I thought I’d take you to a little place called Jacopo’s.”
“Ooooh, tell me more,” I say, squeezing his hand as we walk down the beach.
“Well, it’s pretty intimate, it only has one table. Cypress floors, open bar, set menu. I hear there’s even a bed there. Y’know, in case we get…tired later.” He chances a look in my direction and flashes that dimple that makes my core turn to goo.
“You cooked for me?”
“Pasta carbonara, my specialty.”
“That sounds wonderful,” I say, only now realizing how hungry I am. “Is that what you make for all the girls?”
I’m just teasing him, but Jake’s face goes serious all of a sudden. He turns to face me.
“No. You’re the only one, Liv. I’ve never brought anyone else to my boat before.”
A kaleidoscope of butterflies takes flight in my stomach. I’m nervous all over again.
Jake leads me down the beach to where I can see a small boat tied off by itself to what must be a near-ancient pole sticking straight up out of the shallow sea. Bobbing gently in the rocky cove, the boat is nothing like the sleek white Venus, with all its technology and glass. This boat has a much smaller, more rounded profile. It’s clearly older, but the warm wood still gleams like it’s brand new. Picking me up around the waist, Jake lifts me onto the deck of the boat.
I don’t know why, but it feels like coming
home.
The air in the cove is filled with mist from the waves that constantly wash over the porous volcanic rocks, and the color of the light here seems creamier somehow, like the details have been slowed down so you can savor them better.
Jake’s muscles flex through his shirt as he pulls himself easily aboard. He comes to stand behind me and wraps one arm around my shoulders and the other across my hips. Together, we stare as the sun makes its gentle journey down toward the ocean, its final rays refracting off the shimmery water. Nestling against the warmth of his body in the evening chill, I feel calm. I never want to leave this moment.
“Ready for a tour?” he whispers in my ear.
“As long as we start in the bedroom,” I reply.
Jake takes my hand in his and leads me through the door to the boat’s small living area. Unlike the expansive interior of the Venus, Jake’s boat has one level and only the essentials, artfully maintained. I can see a back hallway leading to two cabins, and otherwise, the main salon is the only room. It includes a small dining nook, a sitting area, and a kitchen. A kitchen that seems to come along with a small Italian man, as one is currently rifling through the refrigerator.
“Ernesto, what are you doing here?” Jake says, more amused than annoyed.
“Ah! Mi dispiace, Jacopo, I just wanted to bring something by,” he says, offering up the chocolate cake he’s holding with an apologetic smile. “You said you were cooking tonight, and, well, I couldn’t help myself. You must be Olivia, ci?” Ernesto smiles at me, turning on the charm and trying to change the subject.
“You didn’t think I could pull it off, did you?” Jake says, pressing the issue.
“No, ovviamente no,” he exclaims, waving his hands frantically. “It’s just, the carbonara sauce is fickle, and…”
“And? You didn’t think I could pull it off. Step away from the stove, old man,” Jake says, joining him at the simmering pot. “You didn’t add anything to this did you?”
As Jake and Ernesto poke at the pasta, I continue to look around. The boat is immaculate, filled with wood that shines with care. The furniture is a mix of vintage and modern pieces, all worn, but not worn out. What I’m most drawn to, though is the stunning ornamental detail on each of the doors and around every window. I recognize it as Jake’s careful artistry. This craftsmanship might even be better than some of the woodwork on the Venus.
I’m running my finger down a groove in the trim when Ernesto calls out to me.
“Nice to meet you, bella Olivia,” he says, the bucket he brought with him swinging on his arm as Jake actively pushes him out the door. “Enjoy the torta!”
I laugh, waving as I see the top of his bald head reappear back down below on the beach.
“Sorry about that,” Jake says, coming back through the door.
“What’s with the bucket?” I ask.
“Oh, I don’t know, he came by to sprinkle salt in the corners for luck or something. Ernesto’s kind of a superstitious little nut, but his rituals seem to make him feel good, so I let him do it.”
“He’s adorable,” I say, “he could have stayed for dinner?”
“No, he couldn’t. Not with what I have planned for dessert.”
I feel my stomach drop. Suddenly I’m very aware that I’m alone — completely alone — with this man. A man who makes me feel like I’m at the top of a roller coaster about to tip over the edge.
I clench my thighs together to try to contain the need that’s starting to burn between them.
Jake serves me a steaming bowl of pasta, swirled into a nest and garnished with basil and grated parmesan. With the first bite, I groan aloud. The creamy, peppery sauce is exquisite, and paired with the crispy pancetta, I’m in heaven.
Its the second best thing of his that I hope to have in my mouth tonight.
“Where did you learn to cook like this?”
“I don’t know, I guess I just taught myself. When I want something, I figure out how to get it, even if I have to make it myself,” he says, catching my eye between bites. “Most of it is just using the right ingredients, though. I learned that from Ernesto.”
“Maybe, but you have to give yourself more credit than that.” I point to the cornice framing the room, “I know that anyone else could buy that same piece of wood, but only you can make it look like this.” I challenge him to meet my eyes. “It’s really beautiful, Jake.”
I can tell the compliment makes him uncomfortable. He gets up to clear the plates, coming back with an open bottle of red wine to refill our glasses.
“Let me show you something else I’m good at,” he says, extending his palm to me.
The butterflies start fluttering their wings again. I reach out to place my hand in his, not sure if I can trust my words right now.
Scrtch scrtch shhctch
“— Raouw?”
“What was that?” I jump with a start. It’s coming from behind the closed door of the guest room.
“Damn it. It’s the fucking cat.”
“I didn’t know you —”
“I don’t have a cat,” Jake says, a bit hasty this time. “He’s just staying here for a couple days.”
“So you’re like an Airbnb for cats?” I say. I can’t help but grin. Here he is, laying on enough charm and smolder to make Casanova look like an inept buffoon, and he can’t help but be undone by the soft spots in his heart.
He exhales heavily and opens the door. “Way to be a wingman, Bacon.” A furry bundle of whiskers and paws comes tumbling out of the room, awake and ready to play.
“Wait, I think I know this cat!” I exclaim, reaching down to scratch him behind the ears. He starts purring immediately. “He slept with me on the beach!”
“Well then, he’s doing a lot better than I am so far,” Jake says, tossing the cork from the wine bottle onto the floor. Bacon immediately starts batting it around. “Like I said, he’s just here for a couple days. I got him neutered two days ago, poor devil, and he has to stay somewhere indoors for a bit.” Jake pours a few kibbles into a dish, still watching the brown tabby play. “I’m sure he’s ready to get back to his wild ways on the street, but I figure there are enough fatherless children in the world without this guy adding to the count.”
For a moment, we’re both silent. We watch Bacon scramble across the wood floor in pursuit of the cork.
“Let’s get out that cake,” I say. “Then we can spend some time with him.”
Ernesto’s cake is a dense dark chocolate, sprinkled with powdered sugar. Jake only has the two bowls we used for our pasta, so we end up just picking it apart with our fingers, eating right off the platter.
After we finish our wine, I notice that Bacon has curled up on the leather ottoman, sleeping peacefully.
Jake notices too.
“Let’s try this again, shall we?” he says, offering me his hand.
I gulp. I don’t know why he still makes me so nervous. “Let me just go wash the chocolate off my —”
But Jake doesn’t let me finish. He takes my hand and brings it to his mouth, his lips closing around my middle finger and licking it clean, his velvety hot tongue swirling around it from base to tip. He does the same to my other fingers, taking them one by one, his eyes never leaving mine,
Holy shit.
He guides me out of my seat, pulling me into the heat of his chest, and the anticipation lifts me to my tiptoes, desperate to reach him. Jake’s mouth finds mine, kissing me gently as I reach my tentative fingers around his neck to tangle through his hair.
I feel like the world could fall away and I wouldn’t notice. I can’t even recognize this feeling, this ache. How long has it been since I’ve felt this way? Have I ever felt this way?
I can’t believe that just a few days ago I was trying to stay away from Jake. Now, I can’t get enough. I’m so hungry for him, I want to feel his skin against mine again — I need to feel his weight on me, the power of his body pulsing between my legs.
Jake takes my lower lip be
tween his teeth and pulls softly, the warmth of his mouth sending a bolt straight through my core that makes me shudder, a moan catching deep in my throat. That’s when his lips come crashing into mine, the kiss so much deeper now, more intense.
I feel like the rollercoaster I’ve been on since I first met Jake lurches forward, ratcheting up the tracks, the climb so agonizing. I want it to slow down so I can catch my breath, but maybe even more than that, I want the rollercoaster to speed up.
I’m ready for the loop-the-loop.
My hands go to his stubble while Jake’s fingers trace down my spine, arching my body closer to feel his warm chest.
Damn, I can’t wait to see him naked.
Breaking from the kiss, Jake pulls back to look deep into my eyes. “Liv, I don’t want to move any faster than you’re ready for,” he says, and I feel my heart leap into my throat. There’s no getting off this ride now.
“I’m really really ready.” I can practically hear the rollercoaster clicking up the tracks, the air thinner at the crest of the climb.
“Good. Because I don’t know how much longer I could hold out,” he says, that wolfish grin returning, his voice deep and low.
Click click click…click…cllliiiiicckkkk…
“Show me your room,” I say.
Boom.
I can feel the weight of every footstep as I follow him into the bedroom, my skin prickling with anticipation. I try my best to ignore the downy bed, along with the swooping feeling in my stomach when I chance a look toward it, going over instead to the gray-stained anchored bookshelves Jake must have built. I’m running my fingers over the stunning carved dentil moulding, pretending to read the spines of the books while I calm my nerves when I feel Jake behind me, electricity thrumming through my veins with every breath of his that brushes my skin.
