Page 16 of The Layover

The poor guy was redder than their cherry pastries.

The instant the door swung shut behind us, cutting us off from the cafe, my laughter burst free without my permission. “Pretty sure that means we were busted.” This was mostly embarrassed amusement.

“I hope they enjoyed the show.” Nick reached for Tony’s hand and the two intertwined their fingers. “I know I did.” Nick wrapped his other arm around my waist as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“Should we call for a car? Head back to the hotel? Duck into a side alley and let me return the favor?” I strolled down the sidewalk with them, not breaking the contact.

My phone rang, interrupting any brainstorming, and I reached for it. The number wasn’t familiar, and while I wouldn’t answer that on my personal time, it was during working hours and any number of our clients could be calling.

As I pressed Answer and put my phone to my ear, Tony’s phone rang as well, and then Nick’s.

Kind of weird. “Hello?” I said into the receiver.

“I’m calling for Carly Hammond.” The man spoke with a heavy southern drawl.

“This is she.”

“Mrs. Hammond, I’m calling with the airline. We’ve got a flight available to get you to New York, so you can finish your trip.”

I cringed at the Mrs. “It’s Ms.” I clipped off the retort. “And when?”

“Ms. Of course.” Was that disdain in his reply? “It leaves in about three hours.”

An eternity when one was hungry or needed a restroom. No time at all when it came to making a flight. “I’ll take it. Give me the information.”

I made notes of all of the important details, and was disconnecting at the same time as both men. Apparently their calls were the same.

“Back to the hotel for our luggage, then,” Nick said.

The next few hours moved in a blur of us grabbing our bags, sharing a ride to the airport, and slogging our way through twice as many travelers as normal, thanks to the delayed flights last night.

When we boarded the packed plane, my seat was nowhere near Nick and Tony. Disappointing. And my next flight, out of JFK and heading to Milan, was a different airline than theirs, thanks to my frequent flier perks.

As I settled in to sleep on the long ride across the ocean, disappointment settled in. It was a fun day, one that offered great memories, but I was sad to have it come to an end.

The two of them were good together, though. I hoped they had a great life when they got home.

Sleeping on plans was a necessity in my line of work, as was shrugging off jet lag quickly when I reached foreign destinations. Rather than dwelling on what wouldn’t be, I focused on the incredible parts of the last twenty-four hours or so, and let myself doze in my seat.

When I landed in Milan, I wasn’t refreshed, but at least I wasn’t groggy.

I’d been here enough that I moved on autopilot through customs, and then to the baggage carousel. With my luggage in tow, I scanned the crowds for a sign with my name. Normally I’d take a cab to my hotel, take some time to relax, adjust to the new location… But I was a day behind schedule.

There was my name, printed in neat block letters on a white background. My gut twisted in on itself. Tony and Nick stood directly next to my ride, heads bowed together as they chatted.

Perfect chance to get their numbers… unless things were about to change now that we were on their home turf.

I braced myself for either rejection or enthusiasm, and approached. “I’m Carly Hammond,” I said loud enough to be heard over the din.

“Lee?” Nick looked up, and studied me.

I gave him a warm smile. “To my friends. Carly to business associates.”

“We made the friend list. Not bad.” Tony grinned and extended his hand. “Raul Bianchi-Gallo, and my business partner and husband, Diego.”

Wait. My brain ground to a halt, backed up, and restarted again. Nope, that didn’t help. The sexy Italian men I’d sort-of hooked up with on my layover were the people I was supposed to be mentoring, coaching, and monitoring through the restoration of their new restaurant.

Fuck me. Or maybe I should be grateful they hadn’t.

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