‘I’m joking,’ she said, holding her hand out to show him her unmanicured nails. But his gaze snagged on her empty ring finger. How long had it been since her husband had held her hand? Thankfully, she didn’t seem to notice his distraction.
‘I believe I told you in our chat that I like to fish,’ he pointed out. He studied her face helplessly as she moved her linguine around on her plate. He still struggled to accept thatthiswas Toni. He’d nattered about plants and told stupid jokes and shared odd moments with…her. He wasn’t used to her yet, might never be.
‘Yes, but a woman fishing paints a rather different picture than a man fishing.’
‘Different how?’ he prompted her, leaning back and crossing his arms.
Her smile now was self-deprecating and utterly charming. ‘A woman would fish in a graceful, practical manner, whereas if a man does it, it’s a smelly, testosterone-fuelled competition, a proxy for measuring your?—’
He saved her from finding an appropriate word by bursting into laughter. ‘That’s quite an opinion.’
‘I admit my prejudice and realise my assumptions are wrong,’ she said. ‘I don’t know why I was interested in going fishing with… female you, but not so much with a man.’
‘I will keep my testosterone to myself,’ he said with a chuckle. ‘It won’t rub off on you.’
‘You forget I work at an adventure travel agency. I’m familiar with testosterone. Perhaps that’s why I invented you as myfemale friend.’ Her scrunched-up nose showed him what she thought of that possibility.
He cleared his throat. ‘Might I remind you that you did not invent me?’
Her look was full of dismay – such a range of emotions he’d already witnessed on her face. ‘I don’t think I’d be capable of inventingyou, but you know what I mean. Sophie probably referred to you as “he” several times and I just didn’t hear it.’
‘If it makes any difference, Iamsorry to disappoint you.’
‘You’re not a disappointment,’ she contradicted him immediately, which only reminded him of the warmth of his online friend.
‘You know what I mean,’ he insisted as he took the last bite of his calzone. She had already set aside her fork.
‘Yes,’ she admitted, ‘but I still wouldn’t call you a disappointment. Today has been…’
‘What has it been?’ It was difficult to stop his thoughts drifting back to that spark of something between them. ‘Be honest with me.’
She bit her lip and glanced at him with the most endearing mix of amusement and confusion. ‘Challenging,’ she eventually decided on.
‘Do you… like a challenge?’ His throat was thick, but he hoped she didn’t think he was flirting again. He wasn’t – or only a little. Harmless.
‘Not usually,’ she replied flatly. ‘Not any more. But maybe I can try fishing.’ He recognised the last sentence as an attempt to lighten her words, discourage him from asking more. So he didn’t.
‘You don’t have to go fishing with me if you don’t want to. You don’t have to do anything with me – anyactivities—’ He swore under his breath.
‘Don’t have a heart attack, Gabri,’ she said drily, his name spoken in her voice bouncing a few times through his brain. ‘You promised to tell me all about the flora of the island and that I will hold you to. Anything else…’ Her blush was more gratifying than it should have been. ‘Gosh, now I’m doing it?—’
He signalled to the waiter, hastily ordering a liqueur. Catching Toni’s eye, he asked, ‘Do you want a drink? Digestivo? Limoncino? Arancino?’
She blinked at his rush of words. ‘A drink? Perhaps that’s a good idea. Limoncino sounds good.’
When the waiter walked away, silence fell again, all the hours of man-woman-friends-flirting-whatever still hanging between them.
‘I was kidding aboutGilmore Girlstoo,’ she finally said. He could only manage a grunt in reply. ‘As long as I don’t have to watchMinecraftgameplay orStar Warscartoons, I’m happy with anything.’
She seemed to choke on her words and he imagined she realised she’d brought up her son again, although she’d obviously tried to keep him out of their… friendship. That suited Gabri. Kids were well outside his comfort zone.
Toni continued to speak, apparently not noticing he was barely replying. ‘I don’t really think there’s that much difference between what men and women like to do on holiday. I brought my sturdy shoes, didn’t I?’
‘Good,’ he replied curtly.
The waiter arrived and placed two stemmed schnapps glasses in front of them. Toni looked uncertain and he wished he’d offered her a Campari Spritz instead, but lingering at this restaurant was becoming unbearable. He needed to get back up to his house in the hills – with or without her; that was her choice.
‘Cin cin,’ he said, his voice gravelly as he lifted his glass, clinked it with hers and took a nip. The scent of herbs in the local myrtle liqueur, the sugar and alcohol gave him the kick he needed.
