Will grins through his tears, understanding that I’m giving Benny a hard time even though he’s not here. It’s our way, how our friendship has always been, the three of us.“Nax is nicer. But Bennett has dogs. He wins.”
“With a baby coming he’s not winning you this time.” Setting my son down I stand up. “You’re stuck with the nice guy and you can walk the dogs anytime. So you’re okay with this?”
Will nods. “Uh huh.”
“You wanna help me go book the most expensive flight of my life?”
“Yeah!” As we walk to my office, he asks, “Why the most expensive?”
“Without advance notice the tickets will cost me an arm and a leg.”
“But if she rejects you, Dad, it’ll cost everything.”
“Not everything.” Grabbing his head, I smile, “I’d still have you.”
Chapter 15
Nestled on the coast of Sorrento, Italy, is Villa Crawford, a home which originally belonged to the American author Francis Marion Crawford. There he created his own palace with buttresses that rise from the Bay of Naples in Medieval style, although he lived there in the late 1800’s. Francis left the estate to his family upon his passing in 1909. In the 1950’s his sons donated it to the church. It is still today run by nuns. You don’t have to be religious to book your stay, but you must abide their rules, mostly of quiet and early bedtimes — perfect for a week of relaxation, meditation, and reconnecting with ourselves.
My nine students have booked through me either single or double rooms — less cost for those who share — and it’s time to check in. I have waited for this moment my entire life and didn’t even know it.
The flight from New York was filled with me grinning my Tucking butt off. The ride on a bus from the international airport in Naples was the same for me and our happy group. We all marveled at the bravado of Italian drivers, especially the hundreds that ride scooters as their main transport, zipping between traffic coming from both directions. They do not care about the dotted line except to use it as an obstacle course.
And now that we’re here, my gaze drifts happily over carved wood that adorns the lobby walls, toward a room converted into a small cafe with only two round metal tables and a thin counter for its bar. Behind it is an espresso machine manned by an Italian whose smile feels effortless.
From him my gaze travels to a portrait of the author who used to live and write here, a silver placard bearing his name, and a smile on his face, too. I can understand why he looks so peaceful.
Joan informs me with a quiet voice, “We’re up,” as she watches a nun passing us.
Turning for the hotel desk, I notice the couple before us has already checked in and is walking toward an elevator to our right.
Checking in guests are two young women, both without makeup. The first teenager smiles, “Caio.”
Stepping up to check our group in, my sundress floats around my calves in the warm air, sandals adorned with anklets, hair long and free except for two small braids on either side pinned back by my temples. “Caio. I’m Tempest Tuck with the Yin Yang Yoga Retreat.”
The other teen glances up, “How many?” pen suspended above a ledger, dark eyes curious and open after having heard my American accent.
Placing my hands on the marble counter, I feel better than I have in years. “We are ten in total.”
She nods and they begin to talk in their native tongue, pointing to notes on the rooms we’ve paid for.
But a man’s voice from my right says, “Actually, we’re eleven in total.”
I frown at the correction and look to my right to see Josh wheeling in a suitcase, wearing dark grey jeans and a white sweater, black leather jacket thrown over his free arm, handsome face flushed, dark brown eyes bright as if I’d been waiting for him.
“Josh?” I whisper, not able to grasp what I’m looking at.
As if they’re old friends, Joan throws out her arms. “You came!”
His gaze flicks to her, and he nods, but lands back on me as he answers, “I needed to get away.” His confident stroll brings him to my side, our eyes locked. “This seemed like it might be the perfect solution.” Pulling himself from my confused gaze, Josh tells the already smitten teens, “I booked a separate room. A single, under Josh Arosio.”
She lights up at his surname. “You are Italian!”
“Third generation. Ashamed to admit I don’t speak it.” This gives them leave to giggle and say a few things we can’t understand.
Josh smiles. “But I can guess what that meant.”
This sends them into a fit of blushing and more giggling.
But Me?
I’m baffled!
Suddenly I remember this is my retreat, people are counting on me to start this off well. I’d better pull it together and fib a little. These girls aren’t the nuns — they’re locals earning a living — so it can’t be that bad to lie to them, “I didn’t expect Josh to be able to make it.” To him I force a smile, “So glad you changed your mind about joining us. What a nice surprise,” and return to them, agreeing, "We are eleven in total.”
Keys are passed out for double rooms shared and single rooms not. In struggling English we are informed that the elevator will take us upstairs or to the dining hall below.
Signing a contract I don’t even read, I hand back the pen, thanking them in Italian, “Grazie,” and turn to my students, opening my arms in body and spirit. “Welcome to Sorrento! You’ve had a long journey, so settle in. Rest. Take a nap if you’d like to get ahead of the jet lag. Here is our schedule, and remember that you don’t have to participate in all of these meditations and practice sessions. I’ve scheduled you plenty of time to explore Italy on your own, but if you find you’d like to have more, this is your time. Take your freedom and fly.” I hand Josh the last flyer, mine. I didn’t bring extras. “We’ll meet downstairs for an early dinner. Afterward you’ll have some free time. Before bed our night practice will begin. Try not to skip tonight’s practice. It will help you sleep better, I promise. I planned ahead. Thank you for trusting me with your experience. I will see you all at dinner.”
With rooms spread out on three floors, we aren’t the only guests in Villa Crawford. A few from my group choose the stairs, happily chatting away about how much they’ve looked forward to this journey. The others wait for a small elevator that only holds four or so, plus suitcases.
Josh hangs back with me, noting quietly, “Red nail polish, huh? You usually go for unusual colors.”
I grab his arm, digging said fingernails in it, and drag him into an event room to our left that must have been the late author’s sitting room where he entertained his guests. A young woman pauses dusting bookshelves to say, “Mi scusi, room is closed.”
My gaze locks onto the Bay of Naples outside glass doors. “Then we’ll go there! Come on, Josh.”
“Hang on a second.” He flips around, disappears, and returns with our suitcases, setting them against wood walls just inside the door.
“We’re in a hotel run by nuns. I think they were safe.”
Over the sexiest smile he cocks an eyebrow. “Maybe the only one who isn’t safe is me.”
Chapter 16
Not charmed even a little, she huffs and heads outside through double doors surrounded by beveled windows that showcase a spectacular view.
I follow at a much slower pace, watching Tempest move in a way I’ve never let myself before.
Billowing at the hem from her speed, the sundress shows me a glimpse of anklets I’ve grown to fantasize about playing with. Rolling up and down her skin. Biting.
I could get lost in her body’s curves, the wide slope of pissed-off hips, generous breasts that taunted me during the class I stumbled into, bouncing and heaving with anger. I bet if I kissed her right now, she’d fight me.
Would she yield to me, too?
The idea of that has kept my mind busy during a nonstop flight and a hired car ride, but not once did I consider how angry this would make
Tempest. But I dug myself into this hole. I have to seduce my way out of it.
The Bay of Naples stretches blue in both directions, breeze coming off the water cool as I come to stand beside her at the stone ledge, calm gaze a contrast to her seething glare.
“What are you doing here?”
“Nice cover in there, acting like you knew I was coming.”
“Josh!”
“What?”
“You know what!”
“Fill me in.”
Crossing her arms, Tempest goes silently livid. As we stare at each other my head cocks and I inwardly note that her beauty is heightened by anger. Or maybe it’s just that she’s powerful right now, not taking my shit, and that power I’ve seen flash in her often is what makes her so compelling. Leah was a soft and gentle woman. She was safety. Tempest is challenge. Right when I needed one to remind me who I am.
“Am I supposed to be saying something?”
Light brown eyes go wide, pupils pulsing. “Are you supposed to be saying something?!!”
“Yeah.”
Whispering in disbelief, “This man is crazy,” she spins around and grabs her head, locking eyes with me as her arms drop.
Dragging a hand through my hair I avert my gaze to the water. “This is an incredible view. Look at it.”
“I’m looking at something far more incredible and that’s at a man who hates me enough to ruin my retreat!”
My eyes narrow as they lock with hers. “You think I hate you?”
“Tell me this is a joke.” She spins around, craning her neck. “Are Zia and Christina going to pop out and scream, Surprise?”
“Do you hate me, Tempest?” She looks at me, confused. After a few seconds of no answer I calmly reassure her, “I didn’t come here to ruin anything. I came here to build something.”
Turning to the bay, she rubs her nose’s bridge with two knuckles. “Yes, I know you’ve been getting your life back on track again. I’m happy you are, I am.” Dropping her hand and staring at the bay, she mutters, “That must’ve been one helluva yoga class I taught to have you show up here without warning me.” Sighing, she eyes me from profile. “Well, you’re here now. My students think you’re supposed to be. Guess I’m stuck with you.” Inside, my chest feels the hit, but on the outside I remain passive. Patient. Even as she points at me and growls, “If you do anything to bring me down or make me look bad I will kick you out of here, understand?”
I absorb her warning, but not without refuting its merit. “It wasn’t my intention to ever bring you down.”
“Well you have, many times.”
“I’m sorry I ever did that.”
Tempest blinks, taken aback and hugging herself like she needs comforting. It’s at this moment that I realize how much damage I’ve done.
“You’re sorry?”
I take a step closer on a sincere. “I’m very sorry.”
She squeezes her eyes shut a moment. “I don’t understand you, and I’m tired.” Shaking her head like she’d rather be thinking of anything else, Tempest stares at me. “So much has been put into my first retreat. I can tell you don’t understand or you wouldn’t have shown up like this. I just want to see my room, unpack, go over my schedule to make sure I’m prepared, and be alone before dinner. Goodbye, Josh.”
I watch her walk into the villa and turn to a view that would be better enjoyed by two, but it’s my fault she couldn’t see its beauty. It took me too long to admit to how I felt about hers.
Sitting on a ledge warmed by sunshine, I tell the breeze, “This is going to be harder than I thought,” and lean over the edge to catch a glimpse of the majestic foundation. Can’t see much from this angle, but we could in the picture online when booking my room. The foundation beaten daily by the tide of the Bay of Naples looks like a castle. Twisting my torso to get a better look at the renovated warm-yellow villa and surrounding stone patio, I nod with approval and pull out my phone.
Immediately Nax answers, “You there? You see her?”
“Yes to both.”
Somewhere near him, Zia asks with excitement, “Did he see Tempest yet? What did she do?”
“Ya hear that, Josh?”
Wondering which window is Tempest’s, and if she even has one facing the water, I nod, “I heard.”
“I’m putting you on speaker.”
“Don’t do—”
“You’re on speaker!”
“—that…” I sigh, “Hi Zia.”
“What did my cousin do when she saw you?”
“Hi Dad! Did you see Tempest?”
I mutter, “Starting to regret calling,” and rub my face. “She wasn’t exactly happy to see me, Will.”
Silence on the line, then my son offers the solution, “Get her a caramel sundae, Dad. She likes those!”
A smile spreads. “I’m not sure if that’s enough to do the trick, buddy, but thanks. Listen, I’ll call you when I have anything to report.”
Zia hurries to tell me, “Don’t give up, Josh!”
Walking toward the villa I smirk, “Oh I won’t. I love you, Will. You too, Nax. And Zia, you’re growing on me.”
Joe shouts from the background, “What about me?”
“I love you, too, Joe.” Hanging up, I slide the phone into my back pocket, pull the room key from it — an actual key that adds to the charm — and retrieve a suitcase I use for speaking engagements at high schools around the United States. I’m tired of traveling alone.
Walking into a busy foyer I opt for the stairs, hoisting my suitcase until the third floor where I set it on its rollers and find my room on the left.
Thanks to the website’s photos, I’m not surprised by the simplicity that greets me. The furnishings are modest, bed low, art religious. Only through a tiny window in a blue tiled bathroom can I see a sliver of the bay.
After unpacking my clothes into an antique wardrobe and dresser, placing three pairs of shoes against a white wall next to my red yoga mat, I turn around and survey the modest space where I’ll lay my head for just over a week.
There is a sense of peace about this place, and I smile to myself, saying aloud, “If I were a monk, this would be my room,” as I pull back the blanket and climb in for a nap to prepare for what I’m about to do.
Chapter 17
Joan beams, “How’s your room, Tempest?” as I take a seat by the window at her table, facing the dining hall to give my students the better view of the bay.
“Really sweet and simple. How about yours?”
“Same!” She points to a young man serving dinner to four others from our group who beat me here. “Why are Italians so cute?”
I smile, “Romantic country, I guess,” following his approach, my smile faltering as I spot Josh walking in.
Like me, he’s wearing fresh clothes just as casually sexy as before — the man has style, I’ll give him that. His hair looks slightly damp, heavy, from showering.
And now I’m picturing him naked, swinging as he scans the room and locks eyes with me as if he found what he was looking for. Probably hoped I’d have come earlier, gone already to prepare for my first night of teaching.
I avert my eyes back to Joan.
But she’s spotted him, too. “Speaking of cute!” She adjusts in her seat. “I was hoping he’d come.”
In an effort to hide an extreme and sudden curiosity that just slammed into me, my, “Were you?” sounds vague and disinterested.
“Oh sure! I told him about your retreat when he showed up at your studio that night. Planted the seed,” she grins to me as if her plan worked.
I slide my white cloth napkin from under shiny silverware and place it on my lap as Josh sits at another table by himself. “Are you interested in him?”
Joan glances over to see where he’s decided to sit, eyebrow cocking. “Not for me. For you.”
Sideswiped I snort, “For me?”
Turning to me she smirks, “He’s not my type, hun.”
We stare at each other becau
se I’m having a difficult time accepting this. Josh is a lot of women’s type — that’s why he modeled, after all, an example of human beauty and that usually appeals to most. Kind of like a puppy. Or rabbits. It’s hard to call a bunny ugly. Or say you’re not into them.
Our table becomes three, with Shaun taking a seat and explaining in his abbreviated way, “Slept in. Starving.”
The handsome young server with three healing pimples on his chin approaches, and since Shaun motions he can’t wait, we give our order, receive several nods and zero questions, left alone within a matter of minutes.
Joan picks up a salt packet labeled in the native language — ‘sale’ — shaking it back and forth. “You’re my type, Tempest.”
My eyebrows jump. “Oh!”
“That’s what got me to class all of those times. I got over my crush though. Have my eye on Meredith now.” Giving me a wink, Joan jogs her chin toward an upscale woman in her fifties who found my retreat online and flew in from England. “I’m hoping for a fling while we’re all here in this beautiful place. But if you play for our team, let me know. I’ll revert my crush back to you.”
Shaun’s stare shifts to me, “Wow” curious if I’ll bite.
Leaning on my elbows I look Joan square in the eyes with a huge smile. “That’s extremely flattering. If I were into women, you’d be my first pick.”
“Really?” she laughs.
“We’ve always gotten along. You bring a ton of light with you.”
Taken aback, Joan flushes, “I don’t think anybody’s every said that to me before.” Her eyes cut to Shaun. “Do you feel that way?”
“I’m down for a romp.”
She smacks him. “That’s not what I meant!”
“I am though.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Every Single Thing About You: A “Tuck Yes” Love Story - Book 3 Page 9
