Page 49 of Tempted Hearts
“What is it then?”
Fuck.
“It’s… complicated. Let’s just say, I’ve never really wanted to be in a relationship. And the few times I’ve done second, or third, dates…” I shrugged.
“I’ve met men like that—your friends, especially Mason—for instance. But most of them are at least open to the possibility.”
“Mason,” I muttered. “He never stood a chance. Pia was made for him.”
“That’s how it works,” Juliette said. “You open yourself up a little bit, fall in love, and then boom… relationship.”
“Exactly. Hence rule number one. Never fall in love.”
“Oh my God, that stupid pact. Even you never fully believed in it.”
That’s where she was wrong. “I might not have believed the guys would all stay bachelors for the rest of my life. But I never said I didn’t believe in it. For myself.”
“Scusate, ragazzi, è tempo di andare. We should get moving.”
I leapt up and held out my hand.
She took it.
But just before I let her go, Juliette gave my hand a little squeeze, as if to say,I’m not afraid of you.
She should be.
I watched her climb back into the boat, grab lip balm from her bag and put it on.
I was sure as hell afraid of her.
* * *
The day went more quickly.
Too quickly.
After lunch and a coastal cruise, Marco took us to another swim spot. Juliette had cracked herself up asking if we should play a three-person game of Marco Polo and invite the “actual Marco.” We dried up again before he steered us into the small harbor at Manarola. He explained it was the best place to refuel before our final stretch when we’d hit open water right as the sun began to fall. Ten minutes later, we were back on board, coasting out of the inlet.
Marco idled the boat, letting it drift until the cliffs framed the horizon like a postcard. The way the water reflected the sunset was too pretty, too calm… too damn on the nose for the way my pulse kicked when Juliette moved beside me after Marco set down a bottle of Prosecco and two glasses with a knowing nod. “For sunset,” he said before disappearing to the helm, giving us space I wasn’t sure I trusted myself with.
I popped the cork, Juliette smiled, and just like that, every line I’d drawn for the day blurred at the edges.
“Sciacchetrà. Prosecco. Who even are you?”
Fair question. And not one I wanted to answer.
“I’m adaptable,” I said, handing her a glass. “To trying new things.” I lifted my glass between us. “On the Ligurian Sea, at sunset.”
With her broad smile and tousled sea-dried hair, Juliette put the sunset to shame.
We clinked glasses.
A simple toast, except it wasn’t. I knew it. And by the way Juliette looked at me, she did too. We drank, the bubbly liquid not one I’d particularly enjoyed in the past. But tonight, as I took another sip, it was as if I wasn’t really here. On this boat. With this woman.
“If you keep looking at me like that, Cole… I’m not going to be able to pretend this is nothing.”
She was right to call me out. Looking away, I stared instead at the way the remaining sun created cliffside shadows on the water.
