Page 13 of Tempted Hearts
If it were anyone else, I might have laughed. That was a fairly accurate picture of us last night, minus the smudged mascara.
“Off the shoulder sweatshirt?” I asked instead. “That’s oddly specific.”
Cole’s shrug was so tiny, I’d have missed it if I weren’t looking directly at him.
“Seems like you guys are doing just fine without us. Hi, Jules.”
I stood as Parker joined us, hugging him with all the gratitude in the world. “Thank you so much for coming. I’m mortified you had to do it, though.”
“I’ll admit, Monterosso wasn’t on my bingo card for this week but”—he swept a hand out toward the sea—“this isn’t so bad.”
“It’s even better knowing you’ll be able to get home,” Delaney said. When Cole started to stand, she stopped him. “Why don’t you finish my wine. It’s a shame to waste good food and wine. Our hotel’s like a five-minute walk. We’ll check in and take the stuff and come back for you guys.”
For obvious reasons, Delaney was avoiding eye contact with me.
I’d kill her later.
“Want me to take your bag?” Parker asked.
Cole lifted his backpack from the seat to give it to Parker. “Sure. Just drop this in your room for me.” Taking Delaney’s wine, Cole sipped it, made a face, and put it back down.
The thought of spending even one day with Cole, never mind multiple days… it wasn’t the vacation I’d planned for.
Maybe next time don’t leave all of your most important belongings in a public bathroom.
“So,” he said, making himself comfortable on the seat. “Why don’t you tell me exactly how your girls’ trip turned into an international crisis?”
7
COLE
“Vorrei un bicchiere di rosso, per favore?”
Before Juliette could respond, the waitress returned, not batting an eye that her companion had changed.
“Certo,” the pretty waitress said, looking me up and down, and not subtly before walking away.
“Not a white wine guy, I take it?” Juliette asked.
“You first,” I said, helping myself to an olive. “I’ve been highly curious since Parker got the call about how, exactly, one leaves a backpack in a bathroom without noticing it missing.”
Less curious, if I were being honest, since it was this particular woman. It was a surprise, based on the contents of her house, that she was able to keep anything in order.
Instead of answering right away, she took an evasive sip of wine. In a white sundress, her dark hair kissing each bare shoulder—the woman really did love baring one, or both, shoulders—Juliette looked as if she belonged here.
Chaotic, but incredibly beautiful. Especially today. Italy looked good on her.
I followed Juliette’s wistful gaze to the sailboat.
“Ever been on one?” I asked.
“No. Always wanted to though. It seems like the ultimate… I don’t know, dream. Sailing on the Mediterranean.” She looked back to me. “Although that’s technically the Ligurian Sea, of course.”
“Of course,” I said wryly, not surprised she knew that. According to Parker, Juliette was obsessed with her Italian heritage. She and Delaney had come to this particular town because it was where her ancestors were from.
“I have no idea how I left it there. One minute, we were sipping spritzes, hiking the Azur trail to Vernazza. The next?—”
“Il Suo vino, signore.”
