Her eyes brightened. “I’m ready.”
I almost grinned at the look on her face and the way she said it. She acted like she was going to have to hold onto her bike for this.
“Knock-Knock.”
“Who’s there?”
I purposely made my voice go deeper. “Who do you want it to be?”
Her face went blank, and it was so innocent that I busted out laughing, the sound of it getting caught in my throat before I had to clear it. She was laughing, too. Louder and harder than me. She couldn’t catch her breath. She got herself under control for a second, then she looked at me and started up again.
She held a hand up. “I’m okay,” she barely got out. “Your face, though, when you said it…I have to stop thinking about it, or—or—” She started walking her bike, purposely not looking at me, bursts of laughter escaping from her lips every so often.
I caught up to her in a step or two and we walked side by side, the trail wide enough. The light sliced through the trees in some spots and made her hair glisten as we passed under the rays.
She looked healthy. Healthier than I’d ever seen her. Her skin was more olive than tan, and her hazel eyes were bright and alive. She’d put on a little weight, but not enough yet. Her tits and ass jiggled, though, especially when she’d hit a hard bump. It was fucking hypnotic when it caught my eye.
She sighed deeply and chanced a glance at me. I grinned. She grinned, too, but it fell after a second and she turned her face forward.
“I actually have an answer to that one—but it’s who Ididn’twant it to be.”
“Rosaria,” I said.
Rosaria was Rocco’s wife, and their marriage was open. Rosaria and her sister were at the house on the property when we arrived. Three men were with them. Rosaria and her sister were both considered Italian opera royalty and had a concert in Athens in two days. Rosaria claimed that she had no idea we were taking advantage of the secluded property for a few days. Rosaria lied whenever she wanted to, and she didn’t give a fuck who knew. She told the truth as well as she did a lie—unapologetically and without pause. Some people lie because they’re afraid of telling the truth. She lied because she knew most people wouldn’t call her out on it. She enjoyed playing games. Which was exactly why she showed up.
When I’d set my hand on my wife’s back and started to direct her to the door, Rosaria stopped us.
“We’re leaving,” she’d said. “We only stopped to take in the place.”
I wasn’t one of thesomewho entertained her bullshit. I wouldn’t stay in close proximity to her. She wasn’t familiar with boundaries, but she figured out how close my lines were drawnwhen I turned around to leave with my wife. Then she yielded—no reaction was worse than a bad one to her—and they were preparing to leave on their private yacht as we took off for the trail.
We became quiet, and I started thinking about the song on repeat again.
“She stares at you,” Mariposa said. “That sister of hers, too.”
It took me a second to look at her. Her face was pinched. She must have felt my eyes on her. She glanced at me, stared forward for a second or two, and then met my eyes again. She stopped and so did I.
“I don’t like it,” she said. “It’s so obvious.”
“We have an arrangement,” I said.
“Yeah,” she said, with a snap. “I know.”
“Beyond our arrangement,” I said, “she’s Rocco’s wife and she’s not my type.”
“What is your type?”
I reached out a hand and touched her cheek. It was as hot as a flame, from either the weather or her temper. “A jealous little creature who has a fondness for jokes.”
She smiled. “Lame jokes?”
“Set your bike against the tree,” I said, nodding toward one.
Without hesitation she did, and then turned back to me, lifting her hands, as if to say…what now?
Getting situated back on the bike, I kept it up with my legs and laid a hand on the dip between the handlebars.
“Get on.” Before she could say anything, I said, “We’re past the oonie issue.”
