Immediately, we battle it out, both of us straining to hold our thumbs back as the other tries to pin it down. Of course, he has the advantage of having a much larger hand than mine, but this is a battle of wills—one I’m determined to win.
I slam my thumb down, pinning his in place. “Aha! I've got you!” I declare with glee.
“You have,” he replies, his tone softer and more intimate than it should be between the friends we’re meant to be, and knowing exactly why I shouldn’t, I find myself looking up into his mahogany eyes with the little chunks of gold, my heart banging in my chest. “You win, Fabiana,” he murmurs softly.
His words are loaded in a way that has risky ideas swarming my mind, my breath shortening.
I pull my hand away. “You let me win.”
“You won fair and square. Ami always used to beat me at pea-knuckle. You’ve obviously got her knack.”
I don’t believe him for a second.
“You don’t have to sleep on the floor,” I say after a beat.
“Pillow wall?”
“Pillow wall.”
I’m an adult. I can conquer my feelings for this man, even if he’s sleeping right next to me.
His lips lift into a smile that tugs at my belly, and I wonder whether I’ve just made a big mistake.
“By the way, I found a place for us to have dinner while I was out. It’s a little trattoria up the street. The menu has about three items on it, but it looks good in a rustic, home cooking kind of way.”
“Great!” I say a little too brightly. If he notices, hedoesn’t react. Instead, he suggests we shower and change before heading out.
“You go first. I want to get in touch with Nona again to see when she expects to get home,” I tell him.
“Sure.” He closes the door to the bathroom, and I sink onto the bed, doing my best not to picture water pounding against his broad back and muscular torso.
Nothelpful.
Pulling up FaceTime, I call Nona, who answers after only a few rings, showing me an up-close image of her ear. “Valentina, my darling girl! How’s your prince?” she asks.
“Shhh, Nona! He doesn’t know my real name, remember?” I whisper. “And he’s not my prince.”
“A man who offers to drive you hours through a storm certainly wants to be yours, my dear.”
I grip the phone. What is she, psychic now? “You’re wrong, Nona,” I say in protest.
“We’ll see.”
“You need to pull the phone around. You’re on video.”
“Oh, goodness. All right.” She turns the phone for me to see her lovely face. “There you are! Where is he now?”
“He’s in the shower.”
“The shower?”
“That’s why I’m calling you now.”
“To tell me the prince is having a shower?” she teases.
“Nona,” I warn.
“Shame. I wanted to meet him.”
