Page 29 of I Think Olive You

The anger from earlier has drained from her body and her cheeks are pale. Those rich brown eyes are lackluster and her breath catches in her chest as she inhales.

“No. To be honest, I’m not okay. Umberto is like a thorn in my side that I can’t get out. Thank goodness you arrived early or his imposter volunteer might have messed everything up. Can you imagine if he got here first and I sent you away mistakenly?” She sighs and guilt burns up the back of my neck along with the flush. Giuliana has it backwards but I’m not about to correct her.

“We’re running late though, and Arturo is not going to be pleased if we waste his time by making him wait. The last thing I need is to piss him off before harvest.” Giuliana runs her hand through her hair, those silky strands falling back into place ever-so-slightly mussed, and I’m struck by just how much I love her hair. But she’s stressed and now is not the time.

Pushing is a bad idea. So, I nod and fight the urge to gather her into a big hug.

“I’ll be waiting outside whenever you’re ready.”

Truthfully, I’m relieved. Somehow, I escaped my fears around this situation—around my duplicity.

By the skin of your fucking teeth.

The weight sitting on me these last few weeks, since the start of my ruse, eases. Not all the way. I know I’m not in the clear, but at least I can stop looking over my shoulder for someone to shout that I’m an imposter.

The wait is minimal but Giuliana gives me a tired look when she sees me leaning up against her little Fiat. “Well, get your butt in the car.”

Settling into the passenger seat, I try not to think about how close we are in the tiny vehicle. Our arms are scant inches away from each other. It would be nothing for me to rest my hand on the inside of her leg. Or to brush my thumb over her lush thigh.

“Do you have to stare?”

It’s clipped, irritated, and although she’s right—I have been staring—I don’t want to admit what’s on my mind.

“I don’t have to. I like to.”

“Matteo…” A blush creeps up her neck, and her mouth is soft around the shape of my name.

“Yes, gorgeous.”

Her head whips over to me, my prodding pushing her out of her shell. The red seeping into her cheeks spreads to the tips of her ears as she blushes. Whether in anger or embarrassment I don’t know. I relish it all the same.

“What have I told you about that? We’re supposed to be colleagues and this is a professional relationship. Gravina was a one-time thing.”

“It’s not my fault it’s the only way I can get a rise out of you. You’re in work mode all the time and that asshole fucked with your mood. I just want to make sure you’re getting a little dose of fun and teasing outside of it all.”

She sighs, the fight leaving her body—her knee brushes against mine and my stomach flutters. Although Giuliana stares ahead as she drives, I catch the way her hands tighten on the wheel and she worries her bottom lip between her teeth before she speaks—as if deciding whether or not to speak at all.

“I wish I was free to tease—regardless of if I want to or not, I can’t. It’s important that this season goes well. It’s my first harvest without my father and all eyes are on me—waiting for me to fail. It’s an insane amount of pressure. Sorry, I’m just trying to do my best. Teasing isn’t high on my list of priorities.”

Giuliana doesn’t look at me as the countryside blurs past us. I wish I could reach over and cover her hand with mine, pry those clasped-too-tight fingers from the wheel so the skin around her knuckles isn’t quite so strained. And then I’d kiss every individual knuckle until I heard her breathe properly. She’s so intense—taut. I worry that all it will take is one wrong tug and she’ll fray.

“I understand, and you’re doing a great job. I just kind of miss how sassy you were with me on our first day.”

This time she turns and I see just how close she looks to cracking under the pressure. Her brows are puckered, her lush lips downturned. Fuck, I wish she wasn’t a punch to the gut every time we latch eyes. Giuliana Santoro makes it so hard to try and stay focused.

“Well, you’re going to have to keep missing it. I can’t afford to fuck this up, Matteo. Please.”

There’s more to it. I know there is. With the open road stretching between us and Arturo’s mill, I take a chance. “You said there’s eyes on you waiting for you to fail. Are you talking about Umberto?”

Her eyes stay locked on the road and the impression of Italy moves past me without notice—just a haze of blacktop and sunny fields.

“Umberto got used to being my father’s right-hand-man. I got used to him being around. When my father’s illness worsened too much to ignore, we ran the grove together and grew… close. It wasn’t until after I inherited that his ugly side came out.”

Every time she shifts gears on the car the back of her hand brushes against my leg. I try to ignore it to pay attention but I’m a weak man. It takes a few deep breaths before I’m able to speak unaffectedly.

“His ugly side?”

“My father borrowed money from him… money I knew nothing about. When it became clear he wasn’t inheriting anything or getting to the grove through me, he demanded repayment.”

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