Rebecca Winters - The Vineyards Of Calanetti

“I couldn’t imagine there being unrest here. I mean, did you ever see anything so peaceful?” There was a distinct note of awe in Kayla’s voice. “There’s something almost magical about it.”

“I used to think that, too.”

“You did?”

He nodded, recalling days of long ago. “I used to come to this spot when I was a kid.” What he failed to mention is that he came here to get away from his parents’ arguing. “I’d pretend that I was the defender of the kingdom. Many sword battles took place where you’re standing.”

“Really? So you were Sir Lancelot?” She eyed him up as though imagining him in a coat of armor.

He was no knight—not even close to it. He’d just been a kid trying to escape the battlefield between his parents, but he didn’t want to get into any of that. A gentle breeze rushed past them and he willed it to sweep away the unsettling memories. He didn’t want the past to ruin this day.

“Look.” She pointed to a flock of little birds as they took flight. They soared up into the sky, circled and swooped low before rising again. “Aren’t they beautiful?”

He was never a bird-watcher, but he had to admire the symmetry of their movements. He couldn’t help but wonder what else he’d been missing. His gaze strayed back to Kayla. How had he missed noticing how amazing she was both inside and out?

“And listen.”

He did as she asked. “I don’t hear anything.”

“Exactly! There’s nothing but the rustle of the leaves. It’s so freeing.”

Now that he could agree on. He’d been searching for quietness like this ever since he’d moved to New York, but he’d never been able to find it—until now. “It clears the mind.”

“Good. We want clear heads when we tour Monte Calanetti.” She turned and pointed off in the distance. “I just love the rows of grapevines. I wonder how they get the lines so straight.”

“I’m betting if you were to ask Nico that he’d tell you anything you want to know about running a vineyard. He’s very proud of his work.”

“You mean all of that is Nico’s land?”

Angelo nodded. “It has been passed down through the family. When my father couldn’t make a go of it, they passed the land down to us kids. I was already working in New York and Marianna was too young, so Nico stepped up. He’s worked really hard to rebuild the vineyard and make a name for the wine.”

“Hardworking must be a trait of the Amatucci men.”

“Some of them anyhow.” His father wasn’t big on work, which was evident by the poor condition of the vineyard when he’d handed it over to his children. “Come on. I thought you wanted to see Monte Calanetti.”

“I do.”

With Kayla’s hand still tucked in the crook of his arm, Angelo took comfort in having her next to him. This was his first stroll through the village since that dreadful day when his father cast him out of their family home. These days when he returned to Italy, he either stayed in the city or at the villa. He just wasn’t up for the curious stares or worse the questions about why he left.

As they strolled through the village, Angelo warned himself not to get too comfortable with Kayla. Soon this vacation illusion would end, and they’d be back in New York, where he’d transform back into Mr. Amatucci and she’d once again be Ms. Hill. Everything would once again be as it should.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

NEVER ONE TO lurk in the shadows, Angelo led Kayla into the center of Monte Calanetti. Their first stop was at the caffè shop. He’d never met a woman who loved coffee as much as Kayla. She savored each sip before swallowing. He loved to watch her facial features when she’d take her first sip—it was somewhere between total delight and ecstasy. He longed to be able to put that look on her face...and not with coffee...but with a long, slow, deep, soul-stirring kiss.

He’d given up the futile effort of fighting his lustful thoughts for Kayla. He couldn’t lie to himself. He found her utterly enchanting. And as long as he stuck with his daydreams of holding her—of kissing her passionately—they’d be fine. It wasn’t as if she could read his mind.

They stepped out of the shop and onto the busy sidewalk. As they started to walk again, he reminded himself not to get too caught up in having Kayla by his side. She was the absolute wrong person for him to have a dalliance with beneath the Tuscany sun. He was her escort—her friend—nothing more. He forced his thoughts to the quaint shops that offered such things as locally grown flowers and to-die-for baked goods. There was a little bit of everything. And he could tell by the rapt stare on Kayla’s face that she was enthralled by all of it.

“Angelo, is that you?”

They both stopped at the sound of a woman’s excited voice. Angelo glanced over his shoulder to see an older woman rushing toward them. She looked vaguely familiar.

“It is you.” The woman couldn’t be much more than five feet tall, if that. She beamed up at him. “I knew you’d come back.”

It took him a moment, but then the woman’s gentle smile and warm eyes clicked a spot in his memory—Mrs. Caruso. He hadn’t seen her since he was a teenager. Back then, she’d had long dark hair that she kept braided over one shoulder. Now, her dark hair had given way to shades of gray, and instead of the braid, her hair was pinned up.

Kayla elbowed him, and at last, he found his voice. “Mrs. Caruso, it’s good to see you.”

“What kind of greeting is that?” She grabbed him by the arms and pulled him toward her. When he’d stooped over far enough, she placed a hand on either side of his head, and then kissed each cheek. “You’ve been gone much too long. You’ve been missed.”

She pulled him back down to her and gave him a tight hug. He hugged her back. Heat warmed his face. He wasn’t used to public displays of affection...no matter how innocent they might be. This would never happen back in the States. But then again, Monte Calanetti was a lifetime away from New York City, and the same rules didn’t seem to apply here.

They chatted for a bit as she asked one question after the other about what he’d been doing with himself. The years rolled away as she put him at ease with her friendly chatter. The best part was that she really listened to him—as she’d done all of those years ago when he was a kid. Mrs. Caruso and her husband ran the local bakery. They’d never had any children of their own. Angelo always suspected that it wasn’t from the lack of wanting or trying. Without little ones of her own, she’d doted on the kids in the village.

“You are going to do the royal wedding pitch, aren’t you?” She smiled and clapped her hands together as though she’d just solved the world’s problems.

“Nico asked me to work on it. My assistant and I just extended our stay here in order to work up a presentation for the royal family.”

“Wonderful!” Mrs. Caruso beamed. “Now I’m more certain than ever that the village will host the wedding. Everyone will be so grateful to both of you.”

“I don’t know about that—”

“You’re just being modest. You always were.” Mrs. Caruso’s gaze moved to Kayla. “Now where are my manners? Angelo, introduce me to your girlfriend.”

His girlfriend? Hadn’t she heard him say Kayla was his assistant? His gaze moved from her to Kayla, who was smiling. Why wasn’t she correcting the woman? Was she just being polite? Or should he be concerned that she was taking this friendly outing far too seriously?

“Hi, I’m Kayla.” She held out a hand while Angelo struggled to settle his thoughts. “I’m actually Mr. Amatucci’s assistant.”

Mrs. Caruso’s brows rose as her gaze moved back and forth between them. “I could have sworn that you two were— Oh, never mind me. I’m just so glad that you’re both here to help with the wedding.”