Page 43 of Where We Met

When the fireplace comes into view, I lose my breath. The woman standing there in the white floor-length sundress with a small camisole on over it looks like a dream. Her hair is still down in loose curls.

My heart does something weird in my chest.

She turns around and smiles when she sees me. I try to play it cool as I walk toward her even though my hands are itching to reach for her.

"Wow." Her eyes look me up and down. "You clean up pretty nice, Professor Luke."

I hate the reminder that I'm her professor when she doesn't feel like my student, especially not here, but I know that’s partly why she’s calling me that. I force a small smile.

"Are you okay?" she asks, looking at me knowingly.

"I'm good. I think I'm just getting a little mixed up from travel."

"Aww. Is the old man feeling jet-lagged?"

I'm not fucking old. I want to grab her hand and drag her upstairs to show her just how young I am. I bet no fucking punk frat-boy has ever made her feel half as good as I can.

"I'm sure I'll be fine," I say to deflect what her comment did to me. "You look beautiful, princess."

Her eyes sparkle. I know she likes my nickname for her, and right now it's my way of countering her “professor” comment and reminding her of what we could be.

"Ah, Luke, Savannah." Giorgio comes out of a door in the back. "You two look lovely. Are you ready for the tour?"

"Looking forward to it, Giorgio," I say.

While doing business in Italy, I’ve learned that first and foremost, you let them be the host in the beginning. This is their life's work, and they want to be the ones to set the pace of how it’s presented. To them, it's more than business. It's their reason for living and breathing, it's art. You don't rush someone's art.

"Come, we start here in the kitchen."

We follow him through the arched doorway and end up in a large industrial-looking kitchen.

He turns to us with his arms spread out wide. "This is where the magic happens. My lovely wife Teresa and daughter Isabella prepare all the food that we serve our guests. Everything from zeppole to pasta al limone."

I look over at Savannah as she runs her hands along the counter.

"I can't wait to meet them." She smiles genuinely at Giorgio.

He returns it and says, "They will be delighted to meet you, Miss Savannah. Now, let's go out back. Giovanni is waiting for us."

We follow him out the back door, off the porch and down to the beginning of the vineyard. Giovanni is currently inspecting a grape vine. When he looks up and sees Savannah, I notice his eyes open wide in appreciation as a slow smile spreads across his face.

"Wow. Signorina, you look bellisima." He takes her hand and offers a small kiss on her delicate fingers.

Don't punch the fucker. Remember you want his damn business.

He better not do this shit with her all week or I'll rearrange his face.

Savannah's flirtatious giggle makes my blood boil. I glance sharply at Giovanni, but he's still too enamored with my girl to catch my glare.

Okay, fine, she's not my girl—not yet.

"What are you looking at?" Savannah asks him curiously.

"Just checking the grape shoots to see if they're going to bloom soon. I think we have a couple more weeks. Here, I'll show you," he says as he motions for Savannah to join him. "I'm sure Luke already knows how this works."

He looks at me and I nod my head. Of course I fucking know, but I want to be the one to explain it to her. Why? I don't know. It makes sense that the vintner would be the one to teach her about the process, but I don't think I trust this particular one at the moment.

I spend the next hour walking behind them, nodding along and pretending I’m not clocking Giovanni’s every move, every hand placement, every leering glance in Savannah’s direction.

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