Farrah Rochon - Hot Christmas Nights - Tuscan Nights / Christmas Tango / Tied Up in Tinsel

He just had to figure out how to make that happen.

He looked up to find her wiping her brow with the arm of her long-sleeved T-shirt. Her shoulder-length hair was pulled back into a ponytail holder, but several pieces had fallen out and now framed her face. She had the uncanny ability to look even more beautiful in a plain white shirt with a light dusting of flour on her forehead than she had dressed in a flowing wedding gown.

Of course, his memory of how she looked in that wedding gown was marred by the fact that she had been on the verge of marrying his brother. And that, prior to seeing her in that gown, his last encounter with her had been at her wedding rehearsal dinner, where she’d told him that the kiss that had been the most meaningful of his life had been the biggest regret of hers.

Hearing those words from her had been difficult, but he’d been just as wounded by the way she’d looked at him that night, as if he were a lovesick boy that she had somehow led on, instead of a man she had begun to have feelings for. It made him question everything about the time the two of them had shared.

Aiden shook those thoughts from his head. Dealing with the repercussions of everything that had happened back then was never easy.

He was not going to think about that now. It was water under the proverbial bridge. He’d grown a lot over these past three years. He no longer questioned the time he’d spent with Nyla. He was just grateful to have found her again.

Though he was surprised to have found her in a place like this.

“So, how did you end up baking bread in a tiny family bakery?” Aiden asked. “You completed one of the top pastry programs in all of France. Why aren’t you making cream puffs and macarons?”

“I spent nearly a year working at an exclusive hotel in Paris after I finished my training at Leôntre, but when I vacationed in Tuscany two years ago I fell instantly in love with it. Especially San Gimignano, with all its medieval towers and its rich history. I just had to be here.”

“I understand,” he said.

Nyla looked up from the dough she was braiding and smiled that soft smile that used to make his breath catch. Apparently it still did. He had to remind himself to pull in some oxygen.

In a quiet voice, she said, “I knew you would.”

A mutual love of history was just one of the things they’d discovered they had in common, which had led to exploring other interests they shared. Which had then led to Nyla breaking dates with Cameron so that the two of them could attend museum exhibits, foreign film showings at the Lefont Theater and quiet meals at her home.

Which had then led to Aiden falling so deeply in love with her that he ached with it.

“Nyla, I know you don’t want to talk about it, but we can’t pretend it isn’t there.”

“Aiden, please.” She slipped a wooden paddle underneath the two loaves of sourdough she’d put in the stone oven twenty minutes ago and transferred them to the countertop. “I just... I can’t right now. Please.”

His fingers clenched the sides of the marble table. He hated that they were back here, tiptoeing around each other. There was a time, only a few years ago, when she had been his best friend. How could one kiss change everything?

But it had. And if he wasn’t careful, he would scare her away again. He wasn’t willing to lose any of the ground he’d made in reclaiming the friendship they once shared.

It had been hard enough to get to this point. When he finally found her on Facebook, nearly two years after she’d left Atlanta, Aiden had debated for weeks whether to make contact. She’d made herself clear when she left—she didn’t want anything to do with him.

When he finally gathered up the nerve to contact her, she ignored his friend request for six months. Six months. He’d given up hope of ever speaking to her again.

And then, one day, there she was.

He could still feel the shock and desire that gripped his chest with every breath he took as he stared at her profile picture sitting in his friends list. He spent hours scrolling along her Facebook page, going through her photos, learning everything he could about the life she’d led in the two and a half years since he’d last seen her.

Gradually, their online friendship began to resemble the real-life one they’d shared. Nyla began to leave comments here and there. Aiden found himself scouring the Web for stories he figured she would find interest in—outdoor festivals, restaurant openings—with the sole purpose of garnering her attention. That’s just how desperate he was to have her back in his life again, that he was willing to resort to high-school crush tactics.

It didn’t seem all that pathetic right now. Just look what it had gotten him. Here they were, enjoying a pastime the two of them had engaged in more times than he could count.

As Nyla transferred the rolls he’d made into the stone oven, she told him about the history of the family bakery—both the business itself and the building that housed it, which was once rumored to be a boardinghouse for ladies of ill repute.

“Everything is aboveboard these days,” she said with a laugh. “Being so close to the Piazza della Cisterna, we get heavy foot traffic, but this rare snow has kept many of the tourists inside for the last couple of days.”

“So, if the bakery is closed until after Christmas, why are we baking all this bread?” Aiden asked.

“It’s for the ‘Concert of Good Wishes’ at Sant’Agostino Church,” she answered. “It’s a huge event for the holidays. Several schools sell refreshments to benefit their music programs and Leoncini’s donates the bread to help defray the cost. Yet another reason I love San Gimignano—the locals are always willing to pitch in to help each other.”

Even though it made him feel like an ass, Aiden couldn’t help the resentment slowly building within him toward the town. With its quaint little shops and rich history, it seemed like the perfect fit for Nyla. But it was half a world away from Atlanta, which made it the exact opposite of perfect in his eyes.

“Do you think the concert will still go on, even with the heavy snow?”

“Oh, yeah,” Nyla answered. “I don’t care how much it snows, there’s going to be a crowd.” She started filling several brown paper bags with long loaves of crusty bread. Then she nodded to a spot just beyond his shoulder. “Can you hand me that box over there? We can deliver the bread once these final loaves are done, and I can give you a quick tour before we head to Rome, or Roma, as it’s known here. That is, if you’re up for another three-hour drive after that long ride in from Zurich.”

“It was my plan to continue on to Rome tonight. I already have a room booked.”

“Thank goodness, because it will be impossible to find one this close to Christmas.”

“Nearly everything was taken. That’s why the room is only for tonight and tomorrow night. I was thinking that we could see as much as we could tomorrow, and then maybe leave around noon on Christmas Eve. I can drop you back here and head back to Zurich.” He paused for a moment before adding, “That is, unless you don’t mind me hanging around until Christmas Day.”

Her mouth opened, then closed. “I...I think I’d like that,” she said.

Aiden couldn’t stave off the smile that curled up the corners of his lips. “So would I.”

Nyla cleared her throat and returned to packing the breads. “So, which hotel did you book in Rome?”

“I can’t remember the name, but I know it’s in the Termini Station District.”

She looked up at him. “That’s perfect. My friend Else lives not too far from there. I can stay with her.” She tipped her head to the side and smiled. “I really am happy you invited me along. There’s something truly miraculous about Rome at Christmas.”