Page 61 of Rules Of Engagement: St. Louis
“I think I’m getting good at this,”she said, extracting another truffle from the soil.
“You’re a natural,”Luca confirmed. “Usually, city people are afraid to get dirty. But you have the spirit of a truffle hunter.”
“Hear that?”she said to me. “I have the spirit of a truffle hunter.”
“Very sexy.”
“Everything’s sexy when you say it like that.”
“That’s because I’m thinking sexy thoughts about truffle hunters.”
“What kind of sexy thoughts?”
“I can show you better than I can tell you.”
“Promise?”
“Grggggggh….”
She laughed and fell against my chest. “No take backs.”
“Never.”
By the time we returned to Luca’s truck, we were both filthy, exhausted, and grinning like young lovers. Naomi had dirt streaked across her cheek, leaves in her hair, and a scratch on her arm from a thorny bush, but she looked more alive than I’d ever seen her.
“This was such a good time,”she said as Luca loaded the dogs into the truck. “I can’t believe I was worried about getting dirty.”
“You wear dirt well.”
“I wear everything well.”
“That’s true.”
Luca drove us back to the villa, chatting us up along the way.
“I’ll prepare your truffles traditionally—shaved paper-thin over fresh pasta with nothing but good olive oil and Parmigiano-Reggiano.”
“That sounds divine,” Naomi said.
“Simple food is the best food,”he explained. “The truffle is the star. Everything else is just supporting the performance.”
“Like a good wingman,”Naomi added.
“Esatto! Like a good wingman.”
Back at the villa, we stood in the kitchen comparing our battle wounds, scratches from branches, dirt embedded under fingernails, muscles sore from scrambling through underbrush.
“I need a shower,”Naomi announced. “A very long, very hot shower.”
“The bathroom has a soaking tub. Perfect for sore muscles.”
“You’re trying to seduce me with bathroom amenities.”
“Is it working?”
“Maybe.”
She headed toward the stairs, then paused. “Christian?”
