by Hazel Parker
The Italian
Chapter One
Canada was incredibly colorful. Not as colorful as Italy, but nothing could ever compare to home for Domenico Moretti. It was late summer, and the bushes were full of berries ripe for the picking. Dom picked some, nibbling on a handful as he walked through the woods with caution. Bow and arrow in his hand, it was quite obvious what he was there to do. If the opportunity presented itself, he would go hunting. His dog, Gelato, sniffed around trees, making almost no noise—surprising for a dog his size. He was a hunting dog and was pretty good at catching rabbits. Together, they were a good pair.
Dom liked hunting. It was a good way to quiet the noise inside his head. He wasn’t one to talk. Words could get you in trouble, but he couldn’t stop the replay of thoughts in his head, making him question every decision he ever made. His family was gone… somewhere, and he could only hope they were alive. Either way, their present was on his hands. Whether it be blood or sadness, he missed the loudness of family, and in the woods, he felt especially alone. Loneliness had already crept in. Without Gelato, he would have gone crazy.
Sometimes it was frustrating having a dog as big as Gelato. He was a brown Tibetan Mastiff. By default, he didn’t do well with smaller spaces, but the cabin was big enough for the two of them. It was simple in décor and accessories, which meant there weren’t too many things for Gelato to accidently run into or break. Overall, he looked a lot like a lion and was just as protective as one, which Dom appreciated. He didn’t have many people to consider loyal anymore. He’d take it in any form he could get, even if it was canine.
Gelato stopped in his tracks, sniffing the ground and whining.
“What is it, boy?”
Gelato stomped his feet, trotting towards something, prompting Dom to follow him. They had a good relationship, and Dom trusted Gelato as much as he trusted his own instincts. If Gelato was acting funny, Dom wanted to know why. The answer didn’t take long to become clear.
“What the hell is that?”
He was asking himself because the answer was clear.
There was an unconscious woman with a head wound lying on the ground in between the leaves. Her hair was splayed out around her like a halo, and despite the indication that she was unconscious, she looked like she could have been taking a nap. Her cheeks were flushed a healthy pink, and her long eyelashes fanned against her skin. Dom kneeled to her side, checking her pulse, and sighed with relief when he felt it. She wasn’t dead. He touched her head, checking the wound, and concluded she had been unconscious for some time. Long enough for the blood to dry on her head and scalp. She looked young. She had to be around her early twenties, maybe older, she didn’t look like she was from around here.
He stood, walking around her body, surveying her disposition, and figured she was okay to transfer. Not far from her feet, he noticed a camera. It was too fancy to be left outside and too close to her body to be considered a coincidence. So he assumed she was a photographer or had been in the woods to take pictures. He grabbed it, looping the strap around his neck, sliding it to his back so it wouldn’t hurt the woman he held in his arms.
Dom walked back home with her in his arms, passing through familiar trees and paths only he knew, while contemplating whether he should call someone to help her. The police were out of the question—he was intentionally off the grid—but perhaps he could call someone else. He just wasn’t sure who. The mountain path grew wide where the soil was soft and then narrow in rocky passes. To a stranger, it appeared impassable, but he knew better. Right when it seemed the trees would close off, there was the entrance to his cabin. He walked through, turning sideways so he wouldn’t hit her head on anything, and continued to the place he called home.
It was an old, dingy cabin with barely any space and outdated wooden furniture. In another life, he wouldn’t have been living here, but this was his life now. His two-room log cabin might have seemed small to others, but he was taking the minimalist approach. He didn’t need much. He had his life. If he had his family, he wouldn't need anything else in this world. Gelato was a bonus. One room was his, and the other was Gelato’s room. A dog that big needed his own space, and to be frank, Dom wasn’t the kind of man to let his dog sleep in his bed. From the outside, the cabin looked worn. It should have: it had been standing almost one hundred years, but inside it was right as rain. Safe, secure, sturdy, and the perfect safe house for two.
Three now.
He slid her body onto the couch, careful that she was comfortable, before grabbing his satellite phone, unsure if it would work.
He turned it on, and no satellite was found, which made his decision clear. He wouldn’t be calling anybody. He couldn’t. He would be taking care of the beautiful blonde himself.
Chapter Two
Dom had had his fair share of experiences with violence. He knew his way around a wound, so he worked without hesitation, filling a bowl with water. With the bowl on the table, he grabbed a washcloth, hydrogen peroxide, antibiotic cream, and a bandage. Her eyes fluttered as he wiped the blood from her face, and she came to herself just as he was taping down the bandage.
“Where am I?”
He could see her staring with curiosity at the wooden beams that made up his ceiling, as if the answers to her questions would suddenly appear. Her eyebrows furrowed, and even though she looked like she had been through the ringer, he found her adorable.
“In my cabin.”
She struggled to sit up, he helped her and turned to clean up his mess.
“And who are you?”
“They call me Dom,” he said, sticking his head out the bathroom door as he put away the first aid supplies.
“Dom,” she murmured, looking around. “Why do you have a lion in your living room?”
“That’s a dog,” he said loud enough for his voice to carry.
“Hello, lion that’s supposedly a dog. Are you dangerous?” she asked Gelato, as if he would answer her. He did, in his own way, with a slobbery kiss and a wagging tail. “I’ll take that as a no.”
He didn’t look harmless, but she imagined since she was lying on the couch and not wielding any weapons or yelling at her owner, he would appear docile.
“His name is Gelato.”
“That’s cute,” she mumbled, risking holding her hand out to pet his head. “You don’t look like Italian ice cream,” she said in a high-pitched voice as he closed the distance between her hand and his head. She rubbed his head, feeling his soft fur. “No, you don’t. No, you don’t. You look like a triple-large scoop of all the calories in ice cream.”
“I think you hit your head. I found you outside,” Dom said after he'd returned quickly and poured the water from the bowl into the kitchen sink.
She touched her forehead with tenderness, wincing at the pressure.
“Is this your camera?”
She looked where he pointed, to a very expensive-looking camera, the kind that a professional would use, not the flimsy kind tourists used to take pictures, and nodded. “I was outside taking pictures.” He wondered why she chose to do so with a camera. Now, most phones were as good as any fancy camera. He didn’t know too many people that actually took pictures and had them developed anymore.
Dom spoke from the kitchen, fixing her a glass of iced tea. “You a journalist?”
“It’s more of a hobby.”
He figured she'd need something to eat, but not knowing what she preferred, he grabbed a pack of saltine crackers and set them down on the table between them. “It’s got to be more than that; you were alone in the woods.”
“A passion, really,” she said, cradling the camera like it was her baby.
“I can see that.”
He slid the snacks toward her and without thinking, she took the offering. Gulping down the tea like she hadn’t drunk in ages. She was most likely dehydrated.
“I must have fallen and hit my head,” she said, breathless from finishing her drink in seconds.
He could se
e that, too. Sitting back, he could see a lot of things. One being that the woman who stared at him with big blue eyes was very pretty. Second being that no woman had ever been in his cabin before. Sure, he fucked them sometimes, but in their homes or in a hotel. Never in his cabin. That would be a breach of security. He valued his life more than a night of pussy.
“You got a name?”
“Oh, yeah. Anna. Adams,” she said, holding her hand out to shake his.
He shook it, noting the softness of her hand. “Nice to meet you, Anna.”
“My friends call me Ann,” she said, nibbling her bottom lip.
Was he a friend? He nodded, not ready to use it yet. “Let me see if my satellite phone is working yet.” She watched him in anticipation, and he shook his head, seeing the bars. “Not yet.”
She turned to look out the window, taking in the wall of glass which displayed a clear view of the sun setting today.
“Do you mind staying? There’s not much I can do for you, and I wouldn’t recommend trying to find your way back down the hill, but if you really want to go, we can.”
She surveyed him, trying to see if he was trustworthy or not, he assumed. “I can wait it out.”
“You sure? I know someone like you probably has someone out there worried about you.”
She combed her fingers through her knotted hair. “Not really. My parents are dead.” Then, with wide eyes she covered her mouth. Clearly, she hadn’t meant to say that. Not willing to make her feel worse, Dom decided to keep talking, smoothing over the faux pas.
“Have any siblings?” Dom himself had three: a brother and twin sisters. They were sometimes more in his business than his mom was.
“Nope. I’m an only child.”
So no one to be worried about her, he thought to himself, which was sad… and dangerous. Good thing he wasn’t a serial killer. Everybody needed someone. He couldn’t imagine his childhood without his siblings.
“Well, let’s get you fed.”
His mom believed food was the answer to every problem.
“Do you need my help?” she asked, standing before staggering with unsteady steps. He helped her back to the couch. “No. Trust me, this is simple. I can handle it.”
She smiled up at him. “Okay.”
Domenico kept fresh ingredients. They were easy to grow, and the smell reminded him of his mom. Moving from memory, he cut tomatoes, basil, onions, and garlic before moving them into a pan to sear while boiling noodles. In less than twenty minutes, he made his mamma’s favorite pasta dish and served it steaming on two plates for Anna and himself to eat.
“I’m impressed,” she said after one bite, staring at her fork with disbelief.
He would have asked why, but he was used to it. Apparently, men in Canada weren’t partial to cooking fantastic Italian food.
“I’m honored,” he said.
“Seriously,” she said, covering her mouth so she could talk, even though her mouth was full. “This is amazing. I’ve never tasted anything like this in my life.”
“It’s just a simple pasta my mom used to make.”
“It’s like sex in my mouth,” she said without thinking, and then blushed a rose pink.
He smirked, gave her a devilish grin, and they both locked eyes in silence. “I’m glad you like it.”
Anna cleaned her plate and had seconds. Cooking made him feel good, but people enjoying the food made his heart light.
Anna stood up, carrying the dishes to the kitchen despite his assurance he could do without her help. He was glad to see that she seemed to be doing a little better despite her injury. Side by side, Domenico washed dishes as she rinsed and dried. He was aware of her proximity, thinking of the way her fingers lingered when he passed her a plate and the way she brushed past him to put the dishes away.
Chapter Three
Dom woke early, early enough to see the sunrise, and smiled. It was going to be a gorgeous day. He had barely been able to sleep. The couch was too small, and he was acutely aware of the petite woman in his bed. He brewed coffee and sat out on the back porch to enjoy the ocean view. Something about the silence of the morning made him relax enough to think through the last night. Anna. Just outside of his cabin was a large expanse of birch trees and past that, there was a great cliff and some body of water. He never ventured too far to see where the edge of the cliff was, for fear that Gelato might tip over. Here on his porch and at the right angle, he could see the shimmer of the wave breaks against the shore.
He was attracted to her, and something told him it was more than a physical attraction, but he wasn’t sure why. He was in no way a ladies’ man so to speak, and although he hadn't found the love of his life before, he still held out hope. Women never made it hard for him to know they were interested, but he was a true romantic. He had sex and was not opposed to a one-night stand, but he liked knowing that one day he would be with a woman for the rest of his life.
“Mind if I join you?”
Her voice came from the open patio door.
“Sure.”
She held a steaming cup of coffee cupped in her hand as she stood in front of him in the white t-shirt he'd loaned her. The morning air was still cold; he could tell from the noticeable way her nipples stuck out. Her hair was in a messy bun, and her blue eyes sparkled in the rising sun. She was fucking beautiful, and he couldn’t take his eyes from her.
“Good morning,” she said, smiling once she was seated, coffee safely on the side of the chair.
It was a good morning.
“And good morning to you, big guy,” she said, rubbing Gelato’s big head. He leaned into it, getting all the attention he could before she sat back and sipped her coffee. He complained but calmed when she continued to rub his head with her foot.
“He is huge. What breed is he?”
“Tibetan Mastiff.”
“Are they naturally this big?”
“Sure are. Gelato was actually the runt of his litter, if you can believe that. His siblings are huge compared to him.”
“Wow. I can’t imagine anything any bigger than this.”
“He’s a big softie. I keep him around because he’s a great partner and guard dog.”
“I bet,” she said, taking in the size of his paws. “If I tried to rob your house and saw him, I’d turn right back around.”
Dom changed the subject. “How did you sleep?”
“Like the dead. I felt bad at first, because I figured you weren’t comfortable on the couch, but then I fell right to sleep. I must have been more tired than I knew.”
He could understand that. Some days he worked so hard that he didn’t even remember falling asleep.
“Have you eaten yet?”
“No. I was waiting for you,” he said, noticing how she watched him. “What?”
She smiled. “I like your accent. Where are you from?”
“I’m Italian,” he said, keeping clear of things that didn’t need to be said.
Like why he was here instead of there.
“Tell me about Italy?”
She tilted her head to one side while listening
“It’s beautiful. The food is wonderful, and the people are more passionate. Have you ever been?” He smiled, turning the focus back to her.
It was always a pleasure to see Italy through new eyes. He could easily picture the lavish sports cars seen regularly on the street, and the colorful clothing women wore. The smell of his mamma baking and the sound of his uncles cursing at the missteps of soccer teams. Gelato made with milk, not cream, and the salt on his skin from the beach. It was all too much, and his heart jerked in his chest for dredging such memories up.
“No. I’ve only seen pictures online. It looks unbelievable. One day I’m going to go.”
“You should, but not alone. Men will be throwing themselves at your feet.”
She giggled as he stood up. “I’m going to make us some breakfast. Are you allergic to anything or prefer not to eat certain things?”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I’ll eat just about anything.”
“Great.”
She followed him into the house, setting her mug on the counter. “Would you happen to have a small USB cord?”
“I think so. Why?” He looked over his shoulder while pulling ingredients from the pantry.
“I would like to see if I can upload my pictures. I need to make sure my camera isn’t damaged.”
“Let me see,” he said, walking towards the bedroom. Her camera looked expensive, and he wasn’t sure what cord she might need, so he grabbed all the ones that could be connected to the computer. “Is it one of these?”
She sat at the table with the camera as he booted his computer and typed in his password. “Here you go.”
“This works,” she said, holding a cord up with a smile.
“Great. Do whatever you need to do.”
She worked without talking, and Dom found he appreciated the quiet companionship.
“Hey, can I use your phone?” she said, looking up from the computer.
“Sure. Let’s see if it has a signal yet.” He turned it on and held it up, trying to get more signal. “It looks like it’s working now. Here. Type in a number to see if works.”
She dialed and smiled after a few seconds. “Hey.”
Dom went back to cooking, trying his best not to eavesdrop, but he couldn't help himself.
“I got your email. I know I said I would text you, but I lost my cell. I’m alright, and some guy rescued me. I'm staying with him until I find my car later today.”
He turned and leaned against the oven, watching her from his view in the kitchen. She sniffed the air with her eyes closed. Dom was looking forward to her tasting the food and confirming if it was as good as it smelled.
“I’m not sure where it is, but we’ll find it.”
Dom turned the skillet off and grabbed the plates and silverware.
“Hey. I've got to go. I’ll call you when I’m home.” There was a small pause. “What? I can’t hear you. Love you, Rach. Bye.”
