Yeah, sure. Just a bikini.
And I was just a guy slowly drowning in the deep end of ‘she’s not yours, idiot.’
I leaned back against the pool edge, stretching my arms out along the warm tile, keeping my gaze shamelessly fixed on her as she dropped back into her lounger like she didn’t just set my bloodstream on fire.
“Tell your brother to keep his eyes to himself,” she muttered to Lucia loud enough for me to hear, not bothering to glance my way again.
Lucia just snorted. “He was born incapable of that.”
The rest of the afternoon at the pool wastrouble. And by trouble, I meant Nicola Moretti reclining across from me in that blue bikini, hair now curly from the water and piled on top of her head in one of those scrunchies my sister always had on hand, sunglasses shielding her eyes so I couldn’t tell if she was looking at me, but I felt it. Every damn time.
She played it cool. Acted like I wasn’t even on her radar as she lounged with Lucia, sipping her drink like she wasn’t the most distracting person within a five-kilometer radius. I overheard them talking about work and latest paddock gossip. Lucia even tried to get her to open up about her ideal weddingvenue, to which Nicola snorted and said, “No thank you, I’m single-rich-aunt material.”
I barked a laugh from where I was floating with Gia, who immediately splashed me in retaliation. “More swimming, Zio!”
“Yes, boss,” I saluted her and dove under.
Still, between games of mermaid tag and poolside snacks, my eyes always found Nicola. Her skin glowed under the Italian sun with her legs stretched out. Her real laugh was rare, but when she let it slip? It echoed in my chest for longer than it should.
I made a mental note:Make her laugh more.
By the time late afternoon rolled around, Gia was dozing on a lounger, sun hat drooping over one eye, and Alex and Lucia were swimming, in their own private world.
I grabbed a towel, dried off, and sauntered over to Nicola. She was sitting at the edge of her chair, flipping through something on her phone, legs crossed. I tapped her foot with mine.
She looked up, one brow arched. “What?”
“You think you can spare an hour with just my wonderful company?”
She blinked at me.
I grinned sheepishly and pushed a hand through my hair. “There’s something I wanna show you.”
“Is it edible?”
“It’s beautiful.”
She eyed me skeptically. “You already used that line for the cliffs. You planning to drag me up another mountain?”
“No cliffs,” I said, backing away and jerking my thumb over my shoulder. “A boat. Private. I asked the concierge to hook it up earlier. We’ll be back before sunset. I already promised Alex we’d watch Gia tonight so he can take Lucia out.”
Her expression softened just a fraction.
“And,” I added, “I made sure they stocked snacks and drinks this time. No tequila, but two bottles of wine. Your pick.”
“Color me intrigued.”
The sun was low by the time we were skimming across the water. The boat was sleek, white and gleaming, quiet except for the soft churn of waves beneath us. I made sure that some of the snacks I saw her gravitate to were stocked. Nicola leaned on the railing at the bow, hair tangled from the breeze, loose white shirt fluttering over her swimsuit. I was starting to get genuine laughs from her, and I stored each of those moments away like treasures. The boat pulled to a stop once we were out at sea.
“This doesn’t count,” she said over her shoulder as if it needed to be said,again.
I poured her a glass of wine and walked it over. “As?”
“A date.”
“Of course not,” I said, standing behind her. “It’s a not-date. Two colleagues enjoying a scenic view.”
She laughed again, soft and low. “You’re such a problem.”
