“Lots of places to sit,” I say, smiling. She nods back with another tight smile.
We are then led up a wide staircase, the steps worn from hundreds of years of feet.
“Sonno,” she says, waving at four doors, two beside us and two down the hall, which must face onto the front of the property.No, thank you. I want the view.
“You take your pick,” says Leo, probably relieved we don’t have to share a bed.
I push the iron handle of the wooden door on my left and light spills into the hallway. “This one!” I say, gasping at the view through the arched window. “I don’t need to see anything else.”
I throw my bag down on the bed and walk straight to the window, flinging it open and breathing in the sweet, luscious heat.
I consider a shower in the cute en suite bathroom but then spot the raised faucet outside. An outdoor shower, then a plunge in the pool? Yes, please.
THE WATER ISbracingly cold as it hits my skin, but the chill is welcome. I lean my head back under, wetting my hair, and then step out, wrapping a huge white bath towel over my head, and take a seat on the sun lounger.
I shield my face from the sun and look back up toward the house, where I spot Leo looking down at me from the open upstairs window in his bedroom. He quickly looks away to the sweeping view when my eyes catch his.
“Hurry up, this isheaven,” I shout.
“I’ll be down soon,” he replies, moving back from the window and out of view.
Moments later, Chiara emerges from the house with a chilled cut-fruit plate and a tall glass of fresh orange juice.
“Grazie,” I say, smiling, trying to make a connection. “Thank you so much.”
“Prego,” she says, with the most hilarious false smile, like she was elbowed in the ribs by the ghost of hospitality.
“Leo used to eat the pineapple so sweet,” she says. “A delightful boy.”
“Oh,” I say, raising my eyebrows and smiling.
“We have video of his first tomato,” she says. “I can show you?”
“No videos, Zia,” Leo says as he comes outside and walks toward the shower.
“They’re at my house,” she says, “along with his Barbie. Before he fell in love with big red tractors, he only had eyes for his Olympic Skater Barbie.”
“Olympic Skater Barbie?” I say slowly.
“Yes, she had the little sparkly dress and the bendy arms.”
“The bendy arms, huh?” I say, stifling a laugh.
“He loves her,” she says.
“There’s a lot to unpack,” I call out to Leo.
“That’s enough, Zia,” Leo calls out from under the water.
“I come later? Sì?” Chiara says as Leo steps out of the shower. She gives him a wet hug and then turns to me. “He’s a very handsome boy, you think? Beautiful too, like his mamma.”
I take in his tan, sculpted torso, the light sprinkling of chest hair that tapers into a line disappearing beneath his red swim trunks. “He’s notunpleasantto look at,” I say, and swallow as she sort of canters off into the house.
“I believe the term isHot Chef,” Leo says teasingly.
“Screw you,” I say.
Leo just grins as he slides his sunglasses on and sits beside me on a sun lounger. I have to work hard not to stare at the glistening beads of water as they trail a path on his skin and quickly evaporate into the dry air.He leans over and takes a chilled half apricot off the plate.Hot fucking Chef, I mutter in my head.
