“That I appreciate camaraderie?” she asked.
“No, that you’re Canadian. Bartender told me.”
“Oh,” the woman looked past me towards the bartender, who gave them both a wave when Charlie turned slightly to follow her gaze.
“That’s nice of them. I may have mentioned that I was here by myself, and they said they’d find me a friend by the end of the night. I guess they kept their word.” Her smile was warm, and it was hard not to smile back.
“Now, what’s a beautiful woman like you doing here all alone?” Charlie asked, taking a sip of her wine as the other woman paused slightly.
“Just on a vacation,” she finally said.
“To see the Olympics?” Charlie knew the question may have been revealing her identity, if she knew anything about hockey, but she was still curious.
“No, I had this booked months ago with my girlfriend—well, I guess I should say ex. We just broke up,” she rambled, interrupting herself with a sip of her own drink. A slight blush hinted that she may not have wanted to share that much.
Charlie was intrigued. “That’s her loss. Now you’re here in beautiful Italy, and I’m sure you’ll have no problem finding someone who can distract you from all that.”
“I hope so,” she sighed and turned back to the TV. Charlie watched a few minutes of it with her, until the stranger turned back to her with a question. “I’m sorry, I’ve been so rude. I didn’t ask what brought you here.”
“Work,” Charlie responded.
She nodded. “Where in Canada are you from?”
“I’m originally from Ottawa, but I live in Toronto for work now.”
“Your work seems to dictate a lot of your life, huh?”
Charlie paused at the question. It wasn’t that her assessment was incorrect, but it was a bit startling to hear a stranger read her so well from only a brief conversation.
“I guess so,” Charlie finally managed and turned back to the screen. She wanted to think of something pithy and clever to say, but flirting had never been one of her strong suits, and she was starting to regret that. Charlie wished Blake were here to hype her up. They were always good at doing that. And also teaching her to flirt—they could definitely help with that.
“I’m from Toronto too, actually,” the beautiful stranger finally said. Charlie glanced back at her and she smiled at them.
“Cheers to two Torontonians in Italy,” Charlie replied and they clinked glasses. It was getting tiresome to refer to her asbeautiful strangerin her brain, so she decided to do what any normal person should’ve done right away, and ask for her name.
“I’m Olive,” the woman said.
“Charlie,” the hockey player replied. There was no look of recognition across Olive’s face as she stared at her, so Charlie decided that her identity must really be safe with her. Olive put down her drink and leaned closer to her.
“So, workaholic Charlie,” she said. Charlie tried to search her eyes but was getting very distracted by how close she was. “Do you want to do something to take your mind off work?”
Wow.That was as clear of a proposition as she’s heard … and she was not mad at it. Wasn’t that what she wanted? A chance to relax? It didn’t take Charlie long to match Olive’s smile, and that twinkle in her eye.
“Sure, what did you have in mind?”
CHAPTER
THREE
OLIVE
Olive ledthe sexy workaholic to her hotel room, her heart hammering in her chest. Charlie was exactly her type—reserved, gorgeous, and critical in a way that led her to believe that while she may be someone of importance in her work, she turned into a proper simp in the bedroom.
Olive was determined to find out.
This was definitely not how she expected her evening to go, but when the opportunity presented itself, how could she resist? On vacation, Olive could be anyone she wanted to be, including the kind of woman that successfully pulled the hottest person in the bar, and it seemed that the universe wanted to reward her for that kind of energy. She wasn’t normally in the habit of using someone else to get over an ex, but it wasn’t as if she’d be in Italy again.
When in Milan, do as the Milanians do?
