But Ramin made him want to be that Noah again.
Tomaso and Maria lived in a small villa painted a cheery saffron yellow, with evergreen awnings on all the windows. As Ramin parked the Vespa, Angela helped Jake out of the car, just in time for him to let out a huge belch. “Excuse me,” he said, rubbing his stomach.
“You okay, Jakey?” Noah’s foot caught as he hopped off the Vespa, but Ramin was right there to save him from tripping. He gave Ramin a thankful smile and knelt by Jake to feel his forehead. He didn’t know why; truth be told he’d never once been able to accurately diagnose a fever this way. But it made him feel better, and it made Jake feel better, too. “Car sick?”
Jake shrugged.
“He needs some food,” Angela said. “All he had this morning was a banana.”
“It won’t take long,” Maria said as Tomaso let them into the villa, the wine from earlier tucked under his arm. Noah hung back with Ramin and took in the view. They were near the top of a hill, and through a gap in the trees, they could see the lake below and the sky above. Big puffy clouds were rolling in, a bit gray on the bottoms. The breeze carried a hint of sweet petrichor.
Noah breathed in deep. “Smells like rain.”
“I thought so, too,” Ramin said. “Sorry for crashing family time. Again.”
“Don’t be,” Noah said. “Just don’t tell Jake about your new tattoo.”
Ramin covered his face. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“I think it’s cool,” Noah said. “I hope you’ll show it to me sometime.”
Ramin’s eyes went big. His cheeks turned red.
Noah hadn’t meant it that way. But he wouldn’t mind seeing Ramin with his shirt off. Or more, for that matter.
He wouldn’t mind at all.
But that was no excuse for making Ramin uncomfortable.
“Sorry, that came out super weird!” Noah pinched at his cross. “I meant, maybe you can show me a picture of the design?”
“Oh. Yeah. Of course!” Ramin reached up to twist one of his earrings.
That was one disaster averted, but still, Noah really needed to get a grip.
He’d managed to control himself on the ride—barely—though it had left him feeling aroused and unsettled. He couldn’t let his imagination run wild now, even if he really did wonder what Ramin looked like without his clothes on.
“Come on. Let’s see if Maria needs help.”
He let Ramin go first, so he wouldn’t see Noah adjusting himself.
“Nonna!” he called. “What do you need us to do?”
seventeen
Ramin
The Russos’ kitchen was magnificent, and roomy enough they could work without bumping into each other. An antique French stove stood in one corner. Blue tile backsplashes wrapped around every countertop. Photos of family hung on every free inch of wall space. Ramin caught some of Noah and Angela’s wedding, and a few of Jake as a baby, but before he could find any more, Maria put them to work on a “light lunch.”
Apparently, for Maria Russo, “a light lunch” involved four courses.
She put Tomaso to work on a dish of guinea fowl sautéed with leeks and braised in white wine with fresh green grapes, and she tasked Angela with slicing eggplants to fry them up Sicilian style. Meanwhile, Jake was in charge of soaking Pavesini in espresso—Maria swore the tiny cookies made better tiramisu than ladyfingers.
“Allora, you two can help me with the pasta,” she announced to Noah and Ramin.
She got Noah cooking spinach and had Ramin help her make the fresh pasta dough.
“Ah, you’ve done this before?” she asked as Ramin gently whisked his fork in the egg mixture, occasionally using a few fingers to knock in more flour from the sides of the well.
