by Annie O'Neil
His little ray of sunshine.
A furnace blast of determination was more like it.
Pia wanted—needed—to prove to herself that she could do everything on her own. Her C5 vertebra fracture might have left her paralyzed from the waist down, but it hadn’t crushed her spirits as she’d powered through the initial stages of recovery at the same time as dealing with the loss of her parents and grandparents all in one deadly car crash. She had even spoken of training for the Paralympics.
And then early-onset rheumatoid arthritis had thrown a spanner in the works. Hence the dog.
They both scanned the approaching roads. One from the north, the other from the south and their own road—a straight line from the civita to the sea, right in the middle. There was the usual collection of delivery vehicles and medical staff preparing the facility for its opening. And inspectors. Endless numbers of inspectors.
He was a doctor, for heaven’s sake—not a bureaucrat.
“Just think, Pia...in one short week that road and this sky will be busy with arriving patients. Ambulances, helicopters...”
She let out a wistful sigh. “Friends!”
“Patients,” he reminded her sternly, lips twitching against the smile he’d rather give.
“I know, Uncle Luca. But isn’t it part of the Clinica Mont di Mare’s ethos that rehab covers all the bases. And that means having friends—like me!”
“Remember, chiara, they won’t all be as well-adjusted and conversation starved as you.”
He gave her plaits a tug, only to have his hand swatted away. She was sixteen. Too old for that sort of thing. Too young to find him interesting 24/7. Having other teens here would be good for her.
“They’re all in wheelchairs, right?”
“You know as well as I do they are. And thank you for being a guinea pig for all the doctors here in advance of their coming.”
“Anything for Mont di Mare!” Pia’s face lit up, then just as quickly clouded. “Do you think they’ll try to take my dog? The other patients, I mean? What if they need the dog more than I do?”
Luca shook his head. “No. Absolutely not. This is solely for you.”
“What if they get jealous and want one, too?”
“That’s a bridge to cross further down the line, Pia. Besides,” he added gently, “they’ll have their families with them.”
“I have you!” Pia riposted loyally.
“And I have you.” He reached out a hand and she met it for a fist bump—still determined to make him hip.
Hard graft for Pia, given everything he’d been dealing with over the past few months in the lead-up to opening the clinic. Endless logistics. Paint samples. Cement grades. Accessibility ramps. Safety rails. And the list went on. It was as if he was missing a part of himself, not being able to practice medicine.
It’s what your family would have wanted. You’re doing it for them. Medicine will wait.
“Do you think that’s her?” Pia’s voice rose with excitement.
In the distance they could see a sky blue 4x4 coming along the road from the north, with a telltale blinking light. It was turning left.
“Can’t you remember anything about her at all?” Pia looked up at him, eyes sparkling with excitement.
“Sorry, amore. Beatrice didn’t say much. Just said it was a friend she’d stake our own friendship on.”
“Wow! Beatrice is an amazing friend. That means a lot. Not like—” Pia stopped herself and grimaced an apology. “I mean, Marina was never really very nice anyway! You deserve better.”
He grunted. There wasn’t much to say on the matter. Not anymore. His thoughts were all for Bea and her privacy. He’d offered her a cottage up here at Mont di Mare, but she’d said she needed some serious alone time.
“Do you know what Dr. Murro and I called Marina?” Pia asked, a mischievous smile tweaking at the edges of her sparkle-glossed lips.
He shook his head. “Do I want to know?”
“Medusa!” She put her hands up beside her head and turned them into a tangle of serpents, all the while making creepy snake faces.
“Charming, chiara. Next time you go to the gym to work with Dr. Murro, please do tell him that perhaps a bit less chat about my defunct love life and a splash more work might be in order.”
“Zio!” Pia widened her big puppy-dog eyes. “We can’t help it if she was horrible.”
Luca gave one of her plaits another playful tug. Just what a man needed. To find out that no one liked his girlfriend all along. Then again...being upset about Marina was pretty much the last thing on his mind. Making the clinic a running, functioning entity was most important.
Six months. That was how far what little money he had left would last before the bank made good on their promise to repossess what had been under his family’s care for generations.
Pia shrugged unapologetically, then pulled the pair of binoculars she always had looped around her neck up to her eyes, to track the car that was still making its way toward the turnoff to Mont di Mare.
“I hope Freda looks exactly like she did in the pictures Bea forwarded. And Edison. He’s definitely a he, and Freda’s a she, but I’m glad the trainer is a she, too.”
“Why’s that?”
“It’ll be nice to have a grown-up friend.”
“You have me!”
“I know, but...” Her eyes flicked away from his.
She’d always been so good about making him feel worthy of the enormous role of caring for her. And yet at moments like these...he knew there were gaps to be filled.
“It’ll be nice to have a girl to talk to about...you know...things.”
Luca looked away. Of course she could do with a woman in her life. Someone to fill even a small portion of the hole left when her mother had been killed in that insane accident. A massive truck hurtling toward them from the other side of the tunnel with nowhere else to go...
“Zio! I think I see Freda!”
“Who’s Freda?”
“Freda’s the dog!”
“Right.”
“And it is a her! She’s a her!”
“Who? The dog?”
“The trainer!”
Pia was clapping with excitement now and Luca couldn’t help but crack a smile. His first genuine one in the last twenty-four hours.
“Zio! Comb your hair. She’s almost here!”
Luca laughed outright. Fat lot of good a comb would do with the rest of him covered in sawdust and paint.
A far cry from his Armani-suited and booted days at his consultancy in Rome. The one none of his colleagues had been able to believe he’d just up and leave for a life in the hinterlands. He wouldn’t have wished the life lessons he’d had to learn that night on anyone. His cross to bear. The suits were moth food as far as he was concerned.
He tugged both hands through his hair and messed it up werewolf-style.
“Suitable?”
Pia gave his “makeover” the kind of studious inspection to which only a sixteen-year-old could add gravitas, then rolled her eyes.
“It’s not my fault if you’re a fashion plate,” he teased.
“I’m trying to save you from yourself,” Pia shot back. “What if she’s a beautiful blonde and you fall in love?”
“Nice try, Pia. I’m officially off the market.”
“Officially off your rocker, more like,” she muttered with an eye roll. “Look! They’re turning onto the bridge!”
He spotted the vehicle, then looked out beyond the road and took in the sparkle of the sun upon the Adriatic Sea. Italy’s most famed coastline. Croatia and Montenegro were somewhere out there in the distance. Dozens of ports where the world’s billionaires parked their superyachts. The price tag of just one of those would have him up and runni
ng in no time.
He gave himself a short sharp shake. This wasn’t the time for self-pity or envy. It was time to prove he was worthy of the name he’d been given. The name he hoped would stay on this village he now called home.
“Shall we go and greet our new guest?” Luca flourished a hand in the direction of the approaching vehicle, even though his niece already had the wheels of her chair in motion.
* * *
Fran had to remind herself to breathe. Way up there on the hilltop was the most beautiful village she’d ever seen. Golden stone. Archways everywhere. The hillsides were terraced in graduated “shelves.” If one could define countless acres of verdant wildflower meadows and a generous sprinkling of olive trees to be the “shelves” of a mountainside.
It was almost impossible to focus on driving, let alone the figures coming into view in the courtyard at the end of the bridge. She rolled down the window to inhale a deep breath of air. Meadow grass. The tang of the sea. The sweetness of fruit ripening on trees.
Heaven.
For the first time in just about forever, Fran wondered how she was going to find the strength to leave.
Was that...? Wait a minute.
All the air shot out of her lungs.
Long, lean and dark haired was no anomaly in Italy, but she recognized this particular long, lean, dark-haired man. As she clapped eyes on the tall figure jogging alongside the beaming girl in the wheelchair, her heart rate shot into overdrive.
Fight or flight kicked in like something crazy. Her skin went hot and cold, then hot again. Not that it had anything to do with the picture-perfect jawline and cheekbones now squaring off in front of her SUV.
No wonder Beatrice had been all mysterious and tight-lipped last night.
Un-freakin’-believable.
Mr. You-and-I-Will-Never-Be-Friends was her new boss.
Chills skittered along her arms as their gazes caught and locked.
From the steely look in his eyes he hadn’t exactly erased her from his memory either.
From the flip-flop of warmth in her tummy, her body hadn’t forgotten all that glossy dark hair, tousled like a lusty he-man ready to drag her into a cave and—
Silver linings, Fran. Think of the silver linings. He hates you, so flirting isn’t something you need to worry about.
The dogs were both standing up in the back now, mouths open, tongues hanging out as if smiling in anticipation of meeting Pia. Trust them to remember they were here to help—not ogle the local talent.
Take a deep breath... One...two...three... Here goes nothing.
She pulled the car up to where the pair were waiting, then jumped out and ran around the back to the dogs. The dogs would be the perfect buffer for meeting—
“Francesca.”
Gulp! His voice was still all melted chocolate and a splash of whiskey. Or was it grappa because they were in Italy? Whatever. It was all late-night radio and she liked it. Precisely the reason to pretend she didn’t by saying absolutely nothing.
“We meet again.”
Mmm-hmm. All she could do was nod. Luca had looked a treat in his fancy-schmancy suit yesterday, but now, with a bit of sawdust... Mmm. The sleeves of his chambray shirt were rolled up enough to show forearms that had done hard graft...and he wore a pair of hip-riding moleskin trousers that looked as if they’d seen their fair share of DIY...
Mamma mia!
Of all the completely gorgeous, compellingly enigmatic Italians needing an assistance dog for his...
“Allow me to introduce my niece, Pia.”
Fran shook herself out of her reverie.
Niece! Nieces were nice.
“Yes! Pia—of course.” She swept a few stray wisps of hair behind her ear and turned her full attention on the teenager whose smile was near enough splitting her face in two. “I bet you’re far more interested in meeting these two than me.”
They all turned to face the back of her SUV, where two big furry heads were panting away in anticipation of meeting their new charge. Fran deftly unlocked the internal cage after commanding the two canines to sit.
“If you’d just back your chair up a bit, Pia. They are both really excited to meet you.”
“Both?” Luca’s voice shuddered down her spine.
“Yes, both,” she answered as solidly as she could. “Not everyone gets off on the right foot when they first meet.”
She lifted her gaze to meet his.
Luca’s eyebrow quirked.
“Is that so? I thought dogs were instinctive about knowing a good match.”
“Dogs are,” Fran parried, with a little press and push of her lips. “People sometimes need a second chance to get things right.”
Luca’s eyebrow dipped, then arced again, and just when she was expecting a cutting remark she saw it—the kindness she’d knew she’d seen lurking somewhere in those smoky brown eyes of his.
“Zio! Leave Francesca alone. I want to see the dogs!”
Grateful for the reprieve from this verbal fencing, Fran turned her focus to a starry-eyed Pia as her eyes pinged from one dog to the other.
“Aren’t they a bit...big?” Luca stepped forward, his presence feeling about a thousand times more powerful than either dog did to Fran.
“Zio Luca! No!” Pia protested. “They are perfect. Both of them!”
“She’s actually right.” Fran shrugged an apology. “When Bea explained that your village offered unique challenges in the navigating department, I thought a mountain dog would be perfect.”
“You mean the big one?” Pia pointed at Freda, the Bernese.
“I sure do.” She shot a glance toward Luca, who had moved back from his protective position but still held a wary look in his eye.
She always forgot that to a person who wasn’t used to dogs a Bernese could seem enormous. Baby pony was an oft-heard phrase when mountain dog “virgins” first saw them.
“Come along, Freda. Let’s say hello to Pia.”
“Surely Labs are more reliable. In terms of character.” Luca stepped forward again, just managing to slot himself between Fran and Pia before she asked the dog to jump out.
Fran bit down hard on the inside of her cheek before replying. “Both dogs are extremely gentle and come with my one hundred percent guarantee.”
“And what exactly is that worth?” Luca arced an eyebrow, daring her to name a number.
Fran’s blood boiled. She wasn’t here to prove herself to anyone. She was here to help. How dare he put her to some sort of ridiculous test of worth?
“I’ll leave right now, if you think that’s what’s best. But I can guarantee that by the end of the day you will see a change in your niece’s life. And as it is Pia’s life we’re talking about, perhaps she should be the one who is deciding.”
They both turned to look at her, but when his niece opened her mouth to interject, Luca held out a hand to stop her.
“As her guardian, I make all the decisions for Pia’s welfare.”
“As an experienced trainer, I know you’d be making a mistake by turning me away.”
Luca’s inky, dark eyes stayed glued to hers, his face completely immovable. She felt as if she was clashing with a gladiator. One false move and—crack!—down she’d go. It didn’t stop her from wanting to reach out and touch that salt-and-pepper stubble of his, though. Soft or scratchy...?
“You and I will never be friends.”
“So?” Defiance saturated Fran’s posture, but she didn’t care. “Are you happy for me to unload them? Start bringing some empowerment to your niece’s life?”
Without a backward glance Fran quickly clipped leads onto the dogs, and silently commanded them to jump down, approach Pia and present their paws for a handshake.
Pia laughed, delightedly taking each
dog’s paw for a shake, then giving their heads an adoring pat.
“Zio! Per favore! Can they all stay forever?” Pia’s plaits flipped from one shoulder to the next as she looked between the two dogs and then beamed up at Fran as if she were a fairy godmother, complete with a magic wand. Which was nice. It was good to have someone rooting for her when the other person looked as if he’d happily tip her off the side of the mountain.
Fran turned toward Luca and crossed her arms. “Two against one?”
“Four against one,” Pia said, then quickly tacked on in a gentler plea. “If that’s okay, Zio? Can they at least stay until the end of the day?”
Luca’s hands slipped to his hips as if he were reaching for invisible holsters. A small gust of wind rustled his already tousled hair. Off in the distance, Fran saw a rising plume of dust, as if a band of horses and banditos were heading their way to intervene. A showdown at dawn—minus the weapons and the sunrise.
“I promise you’ll see a difference. In an hour, even.”
Luca’s eyelids lowered to half-mast as his glance skidded away from her toward the dogs and then back to her.
Too much? Oh, jinks. How was she going to tell her father she’d messed up Canny Canines before she’d even had a chance to begin? Yes, she wanted to go back—but not with her proverbial tail between her legs.
“Per favore, Francesca.” Luca affected a courtly bow, though the charm didn’t quite make it to his eyes. “My niece seems to want to give you a tour. Please. Allow us to show you around our humble abode.”
He stood up to his full height, brow furrowed tight at the bridge of his aquiline nose.
“Then we’ll talk.”
CHAPTER FOUR
FRAN’S GAZE CAUGHT with Luca’s. If he wasn’t being sincere, she was out of here.
What? And run home to Daddy a failure before you’ve even begun?
She forced herself to look deep into the mahogany darkness of his irises and seek answers. He didn’t look away this time. He held his ground—eyes glued to hers—as if he knew what she was looking for.
