Page 133 of Italy Can Bite Me

EPILOGUE

MATTEO

1 YEAR LATER

“BUONGIORNO!”KATIEANDIchorus, warmly greeting the travelers inside our beloved four-wheeled disaster. The old girl got some upgrades—expensive tires, fresh paint, new seats—but that mysterious smell? It’s either still haunting us or Lorenzo’s prosciutto farts have gotten worse.

“Before we begin our adventure today,” I announce, catching Katie’s eye with a playful wink, “we need your help getting this chariot of dreams moving.”

My gorgeous girlfriend is effortlessly commanding attention in her way-too-adorable sundress that’s making my blood run hot. Her blonde hair bounces with each little gesture, and her smile owns me. Then, because she’s a menace, she throws me a flirty over-the-shoulder look that has my heartbeat thumping… below the belt.

Katie smirks, then takes the mic. “Everyone ready? Guida l’autobus, Lorenzo!”

They respond with a chorus of mangled Italian sounds and syllables. It’s not pretty, but it does the job. Lorenzo, reigning champion of minimal cues, grunts and adjusts his signature newsboy cap before stomping on the gas. The bus lurches forward, sounding like a dragon gargling rocks.

We’ve come to appreciate her noises as the old girl’s way of saying, “Buckle up, bambinos, this nonna’s ready to party!”

Katie leans into me, her strawberry scent mixing with our ride’s eternal eau de mysterious, and whispers,“Tu me vuelves loca, Semental Italiano.”

You drive me wild, Italian Stallion.

Even with her terrible accent, my cock pulses at her phrase.

“Still Spanish, mi amore.” I slide my hand to her hip, hidden from our audience.

“Oh is it?” She grins wickedly. “I didn’t know.”

Thing is. She’s fluent in Italian now. Like, could sit down with the Pope and swap ravioli recipes fluent. She tackled it the way she does everything—with laser focus and enough enthusiasm to make the rest of us look lazy. And her absolute refusal to behave does things to me I can’t begin to explain. I’m a goner for her. Completely and irrevocably hers.

Now we are studying French and Spanish together, expanding Monti Tours to welcome more international travelers. But my new favorite hobby is hearing her practice dirty talk in multiple languages. When she purrs those filthy phrases, I swear, I’m putty in her hands. My appreciation for linguistics has reached a whole nother level.

She kisses my jaw before speaking into the mic. “Everyone, check the pocket in front of your seats! You’ll find our welcome packages along with a collapsible water bottle, local treats, and mineral sunscreen—because barbecue-chicken-skin-glow vibes are not the photos we’re looking for in Verona.”

This is my Katie—always thinking three steps ahead. She’s revolutionized my touring company with these thoughtful touches. When we decided to manage the business together, she was true to her word about “making it up” as we went along. But once we agreed on a direction—Madonna santa—did she run with it.

I’ll never forget the night she burst into our bedroom, wearing nothing but one of my shirts—hair wild, eyes blazing, and sexy determination that had my whole body at attention. She found the solution to reviving Monti Tours—premium pricing.

Unlike Italy Express with their cookie-cutter tours, we now offer a unique experience. Travelers submit their Wish Cards before booking, detailing their travel aspirations in Italy. Katie, spreadsheet sorceress that she is, calculates the exact cost to make that wish come true, right down to the last cannoli. Then the client decides if their heart’s desire is worth the premium price tag.

Not a single complaint. In fact, we have repeat customers booking trip after trip because each vacation is completely different. My Katie didn’t just save my company—she reinvented it as something unforgettable.

The seniors-only tours will always be our most beloved. There’s a special charm in watching retirees embrace life with the enthusiasm of college kids on spring break—minus the body shots and terrible decisions. Well… minus the terrible decisions anyway.

This particular group holds an extra special place in our hearts. Several faces from that first chaotic tour where Katie and I met are back, proving that even mysterious bus smells can’t keep a good tourist down.

Katie pulls out today’s Wish Card, handing it to me with a genuine smile. “Matteo, please share what wish we’re making come true today.”

“Signore e signori,” I project with a theatrical flourish, “today we journey to fair Verona, where our dear friend Chester wishes to pay homage to the famous statue of Juliet.”

“By ‘homage’ he means cop a feel of those bronze knockers!” Chester yells from his seat, waggling his eyebrows. Today’s funny shirt reads,Still Got the Moves, Just Need a Little WD-40.

The bus passengers cackle with laughter.

“Mrs. Thomas and I are excited about our first bronze three-way. It’s a ménage à trois where no one can complain about cold hands.”

“Chester!” Mrs. Thomas swats his arm, but her blush says she’s not really objecting.

Katie grabs the mic, eyes dancing. “Speaking of familiar faces, we are thrilled to welcome Mrs. Thomas again.”

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