Page 36 of Tempted Hearts
“I think the town is this way,” I said, not confident about the fact with the lack of signs, or foot traffic. Thankfully, we had gone the right way, but finding the restaurant was another story.
“She said it was just past the fountain.” Juliette nearly crashed into at least three people with a singular focus on the center of the small piazza. “Down the alley. Or whatever word she used for alley.”
“Vicolo,” I murmured. “That must be it.”
Walking past thetabaccheria, we found the place. Unfortunately, it was closed.
“What the heck?” Jules frowned. “Well, that sucks.”
From the looks of it, this was the smallest of the Cinque Terre towns, only a few side streets off a main piazza. From there, it looked either mostly residential in one direction with the sea to the other.
“Not much here,” I said. “Probably a slow time before dinner.”
“So you admit it’s not actually dinnertime yet here?” Jules’s tone was more competitive than I’d have expected.
“Are we keeping points?”
“Yes,” she said, matter of factly. “One point for Jules.”
“Juliettemonella,” I shot back, to which she wrinkled her nose in an adorable way that had me looking away, pretending to assess the situation.
“Let’s go this way,” she offered, as if she’d been here a hundred times before.
Sure enough, not far from the piazza, what looked like a wine bar built into the side of the cliff with at least a hundred stairs down to it came into view.
“Are you kidding me? Look at that. It could be a postcard.”
“A living postcard,” I said as an older white-haired woman made her way to one of the tables. “Looks open. Should we give it a shot?”
Without answering, Juliette bounded toward the stone stairs like a kid in a candy shop. So quickly, in fact, she nearly stumbled down the first set of stairs. I caught her wrist, hauling her back to me, nearly falling myself in the process.
Her wrist was small, the entirety of it fitting easily around my hand.
“Careful,” I said, reluctant to let go. “That would be quite a tumble.”
The way she looked up at me made it feel like someone was sitting on my chest.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, Juliette’s eyes wide.
“I’m so damn klutzy.”
If she wasn’t so despondent, I’d have made a joke of it. Instead, I offered the truth. “Not klutzy. Eager. Excited. Full of life. They’re very different.”
For a second, she appeared shocked. But she recovered quickly, smiling as if she’d been given a Pulitzer prize.
And then didn’t she run down the stairs as if the entire incident hadn’t happened.
But the time I got to the counter where the white-haired woman and another equally grey-haired woman stood sentinel, Juliette had already ordered drinks.
“I got you a Sciacchetrà. It’s local. And complex, like you. They only have wine.”
It was hard not to smile at that. “We’ll take that too.” I pointed to one of the small plates on the chalkboard menu behind the women. “Per favore,” I remembered to add. If the last view was spectacular, this one blew the first out of the water. Without the hillside or trees in the way, the only thing in front of us an unobstructed view of the Ligurian Sea, this one was unparalleled. Worth the extra steps.
“Salute,” I said, Juliette and I clinking glasses. At this point, she was going to turn into a limoncello spritz.
“Salute,” she said, meeting my gaze over our glasses.
Eyes locking, neither of us moved to drink. But just as quickly as it happened, the moment was over. I took a sip, trying not to think too hard on it. For a guy who enjoyed living in the moment and staying present, Juliette was making it nearly impossible.
