Page 18 of A Winter Wedding Adventure
‘Bed friends?’ she repeated with a sidelong smile. ‘I like that expression. But I wouldn’t even go that far. Andreas and I… we just let off steam occasionally – or used to, before he was with Sophie.’
The idea stuck in his throat uncomfortably. ‘Maybe that was too much information – the steam, the…’ No words came to finish the sentence, so he used his hands to communicate the images that had formed in his head at her statement.
She snorted a laugh. ‘Sounds like you have too many inhibitions to manage a bed friendship.’
Inhibitions probably wasn’t the word he’d use. ‘It just doesn’t make sense to me,’ he continued. ‘If you find someone attractive and you get on well, isn’t that a relationship anyway, even if you’re telling yourself you’re just friends? You don’t think you might be secretly heartbroken that your friend is getting married?’
‘I’m not secretly heartbroken,’ she said curtly. ‘And you can find someone attractive and still not want to share your life with them.’
She had a point, especially if he considered that she apparently didn’t want to share her life with anyone.
‘Are you the kind of guy who’s looking for his soulmate?’ Her tone was strained.
Failing to stifle a slow smile, he watched her as he said, ‘I appreciate all that effort to swallow your sarcasm.’
Her nostrils flared. ‘It’s clear we don’t have a lot in common, but that’s no reason for me to judge you.’
Mattia wanted to insist they had more in common than it appeared, but he couldn’t articulate what that was. An affinity. Vibes. All the stuff she would dismiss anyway, even if she felt it too. ‘I suppose I am looking for a soulmate – with little success so far. But that’s not what I was talking about. It’s more that the feelings are different, between friends or lovers – before and after. You don’t have to share your life with a lover, but you share… something. You change each other.’
A twinge of discomfort tugged in his chest as he thought about Carla – her body warm against his at night, the soft conversations they’d had after sex. He’d bet Kira was already pulling her big boots on a minute after an orgasm, while her partner lay stupefied on the bed and helplessly watched her go.
When Kira spoke, it was obvious she had no idea of the absurd turn his thoughts had taken. ‘I try not to let anyone change me.’
The catch in her voice echoed in his ears. There was something here – something important she wasn’t saying. He could feel it, a hazy suggestion of hurt that made his chest ice up.
Kira swallowed and straightened. ‘I’m sorry she hurt you and that you have to go through seeing her again like this. Another reason weddings are hell.’ End of topic.
‘It is hell when we have to see people,’ he agreed sagely, steering the conversation back into familiar territory.
It took a moment for her to pick up on his tone. ‘Are you teasing me, opera boy?’
‘Opera boy chooses not to answer that question.’
‘You are wise beyond your years,’ she quipped.
Flicking on the indicator, she peered over her shoulder before changing lanes, skirting the traffic with smooth, expert manoeuvres. But it wasn’t long before she gripped the wheel with a pent-up huff, stomping on the brake.
‘I hope you told Alessandra we wouldn’t get in until this evening,’ she bit out.
When he turned to look ahead, the source of her frustration was obvious. ‘Eh, not exactly.’ Snow hit the windscreen in little explosions of powder and one lane ahead was completely blocked, lorries backed up nose to tail. ‘We’re not actually going to get stuck in this, are we?’
She shrugged. ‘I’ve been in worse.’
‘That doesn’t reassure me. The highest mountain I’ve climbed is Monte Vesuvio and the only other time I’ve seen snow, it was in a performance of La Traviata and made of soap bubbles.’
‘The snow won’t hurt you, but if you keep sighing like that, you might use up all the air in the car,’ she said drily.
He scrubbed his hands over his face and through his hair, watching her gaze dart away from him when he opened his eyes again. ‘Could we listen to music?’
‘Sure, as long as it’s not opera. That’s not really my thing.’
He smiled faintly, fiddling with the stereo system until he had the Bluetooth connected. ‘I do listen to a variety of musical styles, even if I’m only trained in one.’
Feeling her curious anticipation in the way she held her taut, compact body, he scrolled through his library, taking his time to decide on the best music mix for the journey. When he saw the song title in one of his playlists, he knew in an instant it was right.
With a lift of his eyebrows for Kira, he pressed play and the funky, lively guitar riff from ‘Snow (Hey Oh)’ from the Red Hot Chili Peppers filled the van.
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