‘It’s no bother.’ He checked his watch again. ‘There are more guests arriving later anyway, so… Amy? How about you? I said I’d find you some painkillers, too.’
Before she could answer, his phone began to ring, and Tad checked caller ID, then smiled at them both and turned away, disappearing into the cool interior of Casa and heading for the kitchens as he answered his call.
Amy turned to Hugh. ‘I’d be very happy to take you out for pizza or something, to say thank you for this morning?’
‘While that is incredibly kind, I think you’ve been in the company of the aged for long enough. Don’t forget we’re all going out to dinner together later – you’ll have another dose of me then, and itispossible to have too much of a good thing.’ He chuckled at his own joke, then straightened his expression. ‘And I think you’d have a far better time if you took Tad up on his offer to make you lunch. Don’t you?’
Nervous energy had Amy fidgeting as she left Hugh and headed for the kitchens. She wasn’t sure Tad had been serious in his offer to prepare yet more food for any of them, that he had simply been being polite. And yet the pull to be in his vicinity was strong.
Tad was leaning a hip against one of the teaching kitchen stools, swivelling his mobile round and around on the table in front of him. His focus seemed miles away and Amy cleared her throat as she walked in.
He startled, then smiled. His actions reminded Amy of meeting him on the first day, and her gut reaction to him back then. She’d done her best to fight it, to be logical and sensible and unmoved by him, but now she wasn’t so convinced she’d made the right decision.
Tad hesitated, then pushed himself upright. ‘Painkillers. Sorry – I was miles away.’
Amy trailed him as he headed into the professional part of the kitchens and rifled around in a drawer. He handed her a blister pack of ibuprofen.
‘Any use?’
‘Perfect. Thanks.’
‘Fancy a bite to eat?’ he added, reaching to pass her a glass for water. ‘I’m thinkingtaleggiowith some thin slices of pear and grissini? I’ve got some fresh lemonade, too. Made with local lemons – of course.’ He grinned and so did she.
‘What do you think? Does it sound edible?’ he added.
‘Sounds delicious. Yes please.’ Amy swallowed a couple of pills. ‘Unless I’m taking up too much of your time.’
Tad fixed her gaze for a beat of time Amy thought longer than necessary – or perhaps that was what she wished – before he said, ‘You are welcome to take up as much of my time as you want.’
‘I bet you say that to all your guests,’ she said, aware she was fishing but unable to stop herself.
‘In this context,’ he said, ‘I definitely wouldn’t say that to all the guests.’
His gaze intensified, and Amy willed him to come closer to her. Instead, the moment passed, his expression lightened, and he grinned. ‘I’ve only got enough lemonade for two, so…’
Amy frowned. This was becoming impossible to navigate – as soon as she thought he meant more than he was actually saying, he retreated again. This time using humour as a shield. Two could play at that game.
‘Did you squeeze the lemons yourself?’ she asked, her face as ramrod as she could manage as she watched his eyebrows lift, then the edges of his eyes crinkle as he smiled.
‘What do you think?’ he said with a laugh, pulling a small bottle of cloudy lemonade from the fridge.
They shared the food sitting outside the kitchen door, on a couple of fold-out deck chairs Tad said he’d found in one of the storage cupboards not long after he’d arrived.
‘Got to have somewhere outside to escape the heat of the kitchen every now and again,’ he said.
The tiny courtyard area was shielded from the main garden by a beautifully planted trellis of flowering shrubs, secluded and hidden from anyone’s view. The perfect spot for Tad to grab a moment to himself. Amy bit at the side of her lip. It was the perfect place to kiss someone, too.
‘How do you say your name again? Your proper name?’
Amy had completed a handful of Duolingo Italian lessons on her phone, could sayCiao,per favoreandgraziebut had mastered little else. Now she knew Tad had more of a connection to this place than she’d been expecting, it seemed natural to call him by the name his mother had given him. But she wanted to do it right.
‘Taddeo,’ he said, smothering the word with a thick layer of Italian accent. ‘But nobody calls me that. Not even Mamma, not any longer.’
‘Taddeo,’ Amy said, rolling the word across her tongue as she tried to replicate his accent.
‘That’s it.’
‘Are you fluent in Italian, then?’ Amy asked.
