Page 57 of The Fall Affair

I sipped my wine. “I looked up where she lives on a map, and it doesn’t seem too far from the Amalfi Coast. I have something to pick up down there, a missing piece to a tea set my grandmother was collecting. That’s in Minori, but the entire Amalfi Coast looks beautiful, so I’ve been thinking of taking a little trip. It’s about five hours, right?”

“Maybe closer to six. The roads are very winding. But I don’t recommend you drive it, not with da way you handle that stick shift. The Amalfi Coast road has narrow lanes with sharp curves, and the drop-offs are steep. This time of the year, there is still a lot of traffic, so it’s very stop and go, which you are not so good at yet.”

I crossed my arms. “I’m doing much better with driving.”

“You need more than ‘much better’ when driving the Amalfi Coast. When do you plan on going?”

“I was thinking maybe next weekend, late Saturday afternoon or early on Sunday. I don’t want to disrupt the antique shop’s flow of business now that it’s picked up, but it’s closed on Sundays and Mondays. Maybe I’ll stay a night or two.”

“If you want, I will take you. You will enjoy the ride when you are not worrying about falling off side of the mountain.”

“Oh no, I can’t ask you to do that.”

“I have some business in the area myself that I’ve been putting off. I can ask Tomasso to take care of Lupo and your Agatha. He has done it before for me.”

“Are you sure?”

He nodded. “I will enjoy showing you more of my country.”

“Okay. But only if you let me pay for your room.”

“I thought we can share one,” Matteo deadpanned. “Relax, I’m joking,” he added quickly. “But I have a cousin who has an apartment there, overlooking the sea. It has two bedrooms. He lives in Florence and only uses it when he can. I’ve stayed there before. I will see if it is available in the upcoming weeks.”

“Oh, wow. This almost feels like it’s meant to be.”

Matteo’s eyes roamed my face. “I agree.”

There were times when Matteo looked at me, his eyes dropping to my lips, that I felt a current, a spark, real chemistry. But that’s not what I felt now. The moment felt romantic and warm. And I liked it more than I should’ve—so much so that I was relieved when the appetizers arrived and he had something else to focus on. We spent the next two and a half hours eating and talking. Matteo told me about his harvest and the festivals that go on around Tuscany to celebrate the end of the season. I told him about my job and how some of my clients had been asking where I went and wanted to change counsel to stay with me.

I was too stuffed for dessert, but also not ready for the night to end, so when Matteo insisted I try the tiramisu, I agreed.

The waiter set the gorgeous presentation between us and gave us two spoons.

“Uh-oh,” I said. “Does this count as eating off your plate? Are you going to stop talking to me after this?”

Matteo smiled. “No, this is sharing.”

The entire night had been easy, and Matteo had made it that way. I liked how he took control—suggesting dishes and ordering wine—yet I never felt controlled. There was nothing worse than a man who deferred to a woman for decisions because he couldn’t formulate his own opinions with confidence. And I liked the way he looked at me when I talked, as if he was really interested in hearing what I had to say. And most of all, I liked the way he looked-looked at me. He had this uncanny ability to make me feel like we were the only two people in the room, even in a crowded restaurant.

When the bill came, Matteo immediately took it.

“I’d like to pay half,” I said.

He frowned. “No.”

I blinked. He wasn’t even going to debate it, just straight-up no. “But we agreed this wasn’t a date.”

“We agreed the evening could be whatever we want it to be.”

“Right, so it wasn’t a date.”

“For you.” He took out his wallet and produced some bills, inserting them into the padfolio. “I wanted it to be a date, so I’m paying.”

My mouth dropped open, but it only made Matteo smile. He stood, like the conversation was over, and walked around to pull out my chair. I must’ve needed my head examined because I kind of thought the way he’d handled it was hot. Again, he took control of the situation, but in a good way, not a bad one. The man could teach American men a thing or two about the difference between taking control and being controlling.

The host came over and spoke to Matteo for a few minutes, and by the time we walked out, I didn’t even care that he’d paid. “Thank you for dinner. I’ll have to pick up some knitting needles tomorrow to work on paying you back.”

He rolled his eyes, and the ride home was quiet. Just like the other night after the club, he pulled into my drive and put the truck into park. But unlike the other night, he didn’t linger. He opened his door and came around to my side to let me out. The night air smelled of my grandmother’s freesias. Matteo walked me to the door, and I turned to face him in front of it.