Page 59 of Tempted Hearts
They went back and forth for blocks until we finally arrived.
Cole was right. As pretentious as it had felt on the walk, the restaurant itself was anything but. People were well dressed, but it wasn’t fancy—just a small, warm Italian place, the kind where the owner knew your name. Another perk of staying at a hotel like ours.
“I could seriously get used to this lifestyle,” I said.
“And you would have,” Delaney added, “if you’d been a little more open-minded about that guy in Florence. Imagine being married to the owner of a restaurant in the most beautiful city in the world. Free food and wine.”
Before she went any further, I stopped her.
“You’re forgetting his long hours. Not to mention the side chicks.”
“How do you know he has side chicks?” Parker asked.
I thought he was serious until he started laughing.
The only one not laughing was Cole.
He’d gone quiet, which meant he was deep in thought about something. Instead of commenting, I turned my attention back to Delaney and Parker.
When the conversation shifted to our rooms, stories were traded.
I didn’t mention the balcony.
Cole didn’t either.
And there was no reason not to—except that we both knew it meant something that he’d done it.
And somehow, that silence said everything.
23
COLE
The talkative chatter of what must have appeared to the hotel clerk as two happy couples on their way back from eating the best osso buco on the planet gave way to silence as we parted from Parker and Delaney. Neither Juliette nor I said a word as we walked down the marble-floored hallway to our room. The air, charged with everything unspoken between us, didn’t abate as I opened the door and let Juliette pass. Her arm brushed my shoulder, her sweet smell another assault to my senses.
“That might have been the best meal I’ve had the entire time in Italy,” Juliette said as she headed toward her suitcase.
It was hard not to notice her bending down into it, but instead of looking away, I continued to watch as she stood straight up. Realizing I hadn’t answered, she turned to look at me. Our gaze connected, and neither of us looked away.
“I don’t disagree,” I said finally, looking at her change of clothes. “Nightcap? Looks like they left some bubbly.”
Juliette hadn’t noticed the chilled bottle of Prosecco and two champagne glasses.
“Oh, wow. Hate to let that go to waste.”
I inspected the bottle. “Especially when it’s from Veneto,” I answered her unspoken question. “You know how Champagne can only be called Champagne if it comes from that region in France? Prosecco’s the same way. The good stuff comes from the hills outside Venice—Conegliano, Valdobbiadene—where they’ve been doing it right for generations.”
“I had no idea.”
I popped the bottle. It had never been my drink of choice, but I would admit the sound did hold a certain appeal. Pouring two glasses, I proceeded to the balcony doors, reopening them since they’d been closed during turndown service.
We stepped out onto the balcony, still a balmy night but not too warm. The perfect temperature, actually. Facing her, I raised a glass. “To a successful, though unexpected, trip to Italia.Cin cin.”
She took a sip. “I thought the Italian expression for ‘cheers’ was ‘salute’?”
“Saluteis more formal, but that can be used as well. Typically, Italians might say it before clinking glasses.Cin cinis less formal, used among friends.”
“Are we friends, Cole?”
