Page 38 of The Road to You
She exhales dramatically, her shoulders rising and falling. “Okay. I can do this. I’m a strong, independent woman. I…” The Vespa wobbles slightly, and she lets out another high-pitched squeal. “Michele!” We are still in the same spot. We haven’t moved an inch.
I chuckle and tighten my grip on her waist from where I’m seated behind her. “I’m right here. You’re fine.”
I want her to at least reach the end of the small space where we stopped. It’s not like she’s driving this thing around southern Italy. It’s literally less than ten meters.
“I amnotfine,” she mutters. “I’m about to become a statistic.”
I shake my head, suppressing a grin as she slowly,veryslowly, twists the throttle. The Vespa inches forward, barely moving, and I swear the tires haven’t done a complete turn. I have never seen this side of Lena, and it’s cute seeing her out of her comfort zone. She is always so put together and confident that I love seeing some vulnerability in her. She becomes more real and less of a Hollywood star.
Lena glances over at me, triumphant. “See? I got this.”
“You’re goingnegativemiles per hour, Hollywood.” I tease her.
“It’s calledsafety, Moretti.” She side-eyes me, and I grin.
I smirk. “It’s calledstopping traffic.” I push her buttons in the way I discover I love.
She scoffs but twists the throttle a little more, and suddenly, the Vespa lurches forward like a caffeinated Italian grandmother late for Mass. I swear I saw my death, journalists all over Positano documenting our sudden departure from this earth. My heart hammers in my chest, and the doubt that we are going to die right here and now creeps into my guts. Maybe she’s right, we are becoming a statistic.
I grip her waist tighter. “Whoa, okay!”
Lena shrieks, veering wildly toward a line of parked cars. “Oh my God, oh my God.Michele, do something!”
I reach around her, grabbing the handlebars just before we become one with someone’s overpriced sports car. With a quick correction, I steer us back toward the road. Jesus. I really underestimated the danger of this idea.
Lena lets out a breathless laugh. “That wasnotmy fault.”
“Really?” I arch a brow. “Because I think the Ferrari owner behind us would disagree.”
She twists around, wide-eyed. “Is it scratched? Oh my God, am I about to owe someone a quarter of a million dollars?” She sounds really concerned.
I laugh. “Relax. We didn’t touch it.” Luckily, or I would be nursing an injury on my right leg as well.
She groans, slumping against me for a second. “This is impossible. My balance sucks.”
The warmth of her body against mine drives my mind down a very sexy and dangerous path. I have a hard time focusing on what is happening, and I can’t afford distractions right now.
I nudge her lightly. “It’s not impossible. You just need to trust yourself.”
She tilts her head back. “Says the guy who can probably drive this thing blindfolded.”
Her lips are so close I just need to turn my head a bit more to reach them and kiss the hell out of her.
“Maybe,” I say, grinning.
She grumbles something under her breath before sitting up straighter. “Okay, let’s try again.”
I adjust my hands around her waist, and she revs the throttle, this time moving forward at a somewhat acceptable pace. Fast enough not to lose balance, at least.
“There you go,” I encourage. “Now just keep your shoulders loose, and…”
The Vespa jerks forward again.
Lena yelps. “Nope! Nope!”
We swerve dramatically, and I burst out laughing, clutching her tighter as I feel the tires skid a bit on the asphalt.
“Stop laughing!” she cries, but she’s laughing, too, her body shaking against mine.
