Page 24 of In Italy for Love

‘Is the accidental kissing what you’re worried about?’ she prompted.

Yes!‘Of course not. A housemate arrangement is entirely separate from… that.’

For a moment, he thought she would argue and he nearly broke out in a sweat. But then she said, ‘You’re right,’ and he could breathe again. ‘I’m sure you can’t be irresistible, especially since everything I do seems to make you angry.’

‘I’m not angry. I’m just used to my own space to…’Wake up in the middle of the night and wander the halls like a ghost. ‘…play the accordion. It’s not a peaceful instrument.’

She gave him a smile – a touch sceptical, but she didn’t seem keen to ask more, which he was grateful for. ‘For free accommodation, I’ll put up with a lot more than a bit of hurdy-gurdy.’

‘A hurdy-gurdy is an entirely different instrument. It has strings, not reeds, and you turn a crank to play it.’

She snorted a laugh. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you. I didn’t know a hurdy-gurdy was an actual thing.’

The tension in him slowly letting up, he managed a smile in response. ‘I’ll play you some recordings over dinner,’ he promised with mock earnestness. ‘Mood music.’

‘I’m assuming the mood of a hurdy-gurdy is not calm and soothing?’

‘I just hope you don’t like it more than the accordion.’

‘We don’t need to eat dinner together. Maddalena will give me lunch at the restaurant and I’ll sort myself out in the evening. I’ll start my passport application tonight and I should be gone again in two weeks – three weeks tops. I won’t take advantage of you and you won’t even know I’m here.’

That sounded like wishful thinking. ‘You’re not taking advantage of me. Maddalena and Berengario are, but they’re allowed to.’

‘She’s your aunt?’ she clarified. ‘Does that make Berengario your grandfather?’

‘No – well, not really. But they’re definitely family.’ Which was what made the situation with the one-night stand all the more awkward.

He glanced at the kitchen window, wondering if Berengario could see inside from Elena’s apartment. What did the old man really think of him sleeping with a stranger? Yes, Berengario was family, so he would always be too invested in Alex’s life. There were times when that interest pinched.

‘But you might be right,’ she added, absently patting the dog’s head, where he’d laid his chin on her thigh. ‘If we settle in as housemates – temporarily – then we’ll probably find that all the kissing and… stuff… was so intense because of the element of mystery. Before too long we’ll be arguing about how to pack the dishwasher.’

‘I don’t have a dishwasher,’ he deadpanned, waiting as long as he could before allowing himself to smile. ‘But I like the fridge arranged a particular way.’

‘Oh boy, am I going to drive you crazy.’

‘I’m… looking forward to it?’ And unexpectedly, he really was.

11

If it was possible, Due Pini looked even more run-down than it had the day before. When Jules had imagined an organic farm with vineyards and an olive grove, she’d pictured autumn sunshine on golden leaves, smiling workers calmly going about their business and… okay, she’d had woefully little idea what awaited her.

Instead of sunshine, a heavy autumn fog settled over the vines and instead of bushy, profuse olive trees, they were wizened, squat and ghost-like in the mist, some trunks split in two with branches sticking out in all directions. Perhaps there was some truth to the notion that Friuli was not quite the same Italy as the rest.

And the happy workers? From the grumpy Maria Grazia to the austere barman the first night to blunt, straight-talking Berengario, Jules was beginning to wonder if Friulians had their own way of smiling that she hadn’t decoded yet.

Even Alex, who’d been so open and laughed so much that first night, had turned into a scowling housemate, although she couldn’t blame him. He hadn’t expected a houseguest and even if it had pricked her to see him so obviously arguing withBerengario in the courtyard, it was his right to feel put out by the intrusion – his right to privacy.

Jules was here to earn her keep, especially now Alex had offered her somewhere to stay despite the inconvenience. She would make it worth everyone’s while to host her. Maybe she could even clean up a room or two at Alex’s place in the evenings so he could rent them out. She would beuseful, damn it!

The thought of more renovations made her shudder, remembering everything that had gone wrong at the B&B. Alex probably didn’t want her sloppy paint job. Tonight she’d sort out the paperwork for the postal redirection and start on her passport application. She would do her best to stay out of his way and not be any trouble.

The plumber – another wrinkled, unsmiling man – had arrived at Due Pini to look at the burst pipe, but Jules still had to haul water first so the cook could start work on lunch. Juggling Arco’s lead, she almost wished she’d walked all the way to the farm that morning to run off some of his excess energy instead of accepting a lift from Berengario.

After Jules had filled the bottles and tanks in the kitchen and fetched the eggs from the tumbledown chicken coop that reminded her of the meaning of her Italian surname – fox – Maddalena hurriedly pressed the handle of a manual lawnmower into her hands and sent her off into the olive grove with harried instructions to cut the grass. As Jules made her way towards the spooky, twisted trees, she looked up to see a figure coming towards her out of the mist.

Jumping in surprise, she told herself she was being silly for thinking the figure was Death himself, complete with scythe propped over one shoulder. She thought of Alex’s warning about bad dreams and she gripped Arco’s harness tightly as the figure approached, wondering who Death would be coming for.

But as the face came into focus, she recognised Berengario and released a long breath.

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