‘Of course. Everyone gets a link to the recipes we’ve used in the “haste ye back” email.’
‘“Haste ye back?”’
‘Aye. My input, obviously. It means we hope to see you soon, so don’t be a stranger, that kind of thing.’ Tad shrugged. ‘Don’t be fooled though – the email comes with a discount voucher for another stay at Casa del Cibo. It’s basically a marketing tool, but hopefully a pleasant one.’
‘Makes total sense. It’s a great idea. How much is the voucher for?’ Amy said. ‘In case I want to come back on my own time…’
How about don’t go? That way you won’t need to come back… How Tad held his tongue before he spilled his thoughts, he didn’t know. But he was being way too intense again. Leaping ahead of what was real. One night of passion did not a new life make. Amy was here for a few more days and then she would leave; he needed to face facts.
‘For you, I’m sure we can come up with a special rate,’ he said.
‘Preferential treatment?’ she said.
‘I definitely think so.’
A beat of time passed, then she defaulted to a look of amusement.
‘I’ll take it… Thanks.’ Amy licked enthusiastically at the miniature wooden spoon, the remnants of blackcurrant ice cream disappearing before she switched her attention to the swirls of mango running through the other scoop in her tub.
‘I haven’t tried the mango one,’ he said, pointing at the tub. ‘It’s good gelato, though, isn’t it?’
‘I mean, there’s ice cream,’ Amy said, enthusiasm radiating from her gaze. ‘And then there’sthisice cream. It’s delicious. Here, try some…’ She stuck her spoon into the creamy mixture and held it out.
Thiswas the ambiance he’d wanted to create this afternoon. Spending time having fun but with a frisson of something more running below the surface. He reached to steady her hand as she aimed the spoon for his mouth, but at the last minute she jinked it to one side, smearing mango gelato onto his lips, rather than into his mouth.
She grinned, then began to laugh as he caught up the spoon, pretended to flick what was left at her before handing it back.
‘I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist,’ she said. ‘Everything else you try to eat ends up coated all over your face, so…’
‘Harsh.’ Tad licked at the corner of his mouth then followed his action up with a wipe from one of the paper napkins on the table. ‘But probably true.’
‘Here.’ She held out her spoon again, laden with another blob of mango ice cream. ‘No funny business this time, I promise. Try it properly.’
‘I liked the funny business,’ he said, taking the proffered spoon and trying the flavour. A bit too sweet for his taste, but still delicious.
Tad looked at her as he handed the spoon back for a second time, taking a moment or two to realise she was no longer laughing, that instead she was watching him intently.
‘I want to kiss you,’ she said.
‘With or without additional ice cream on my face?’ he said.
‘At this moment I don’t care.’
‘In that case, what’s stopping you?’
She leant across and he met her halfway, glad he’d taken the seat nearest her at the table, rather than on the opposite side as he threaded his fingers to frame either side of her face and her soft lips touched his, gentle and insistent and instantly banishing their surroundings from his conscious thought.
21
After the kiss, tensions seemed to ease between them – or at least the emphasis of the tension shifted into a different kind of tautness. Holding his hand became the absolute focus of Amy’s thoughts, as though her brain was directly linked to the nerve endings in her fingers as they nestled against his warm skin.
They wandered through some more of the old town, past tiny boutiques selling candles, pottery or with leather bags hanging on racks outside. Amy tugged Tad into one of the tourist traps so she could revel in the Riva del Garda trinket shopping extravaganza. She wandered past the tea towels and more local pottery, stopping at the display of Christmas decorations. Glass tree ornaments glinted in the shop lighting, but it was the Christmas snow globes with the local scenery depicted in miniature perfection that caught her eye.
As she shook one and watched the fake snow blizzard its way around the liquid, she glanced at Tad. ‘Does Riva get any snow?’
He shook his head. ‘Not down here, but Monte Baldo gets its fair share.’ A look of excitement crossed his face. ‘I might even get to go skiing, if I’m still here.’
‘Oh, you’ll be here. Who in their right mind would want to leave a place like this?’ She said it without thinking, a reflex comment from a place deep within. He looked so at home here, what he’d learnt of the Italian language from his mum’s side of the family serving him well enough for easy communication with the locals, his abilities as a chef more than ample to cope with his role at Casa del Cibo. She couldn’t picture him anywhere else.
