Page 33 of A Winter Wedding Adventure
‘You seem to have plenty of women lining up to defend you,’ she said, aiming for a dry tone to cover her peevishness as she peered up at the trickle of blood on his forehead.
‘Jealous?’
With any other person, she’d have given him a shove and a glare, but his tone was so light and… hopeful. Instead of telling him off, she blushed – she actually blushed.
‘How am I supposed to tell Alessandra you scratched up your face trying to reach an icicle?’
‘Spoken like a true wedding planner.’
That earned him a shove – lightly, on the shoulder. ‘Oh, shut up!’ Unfortunately, the rough touch still reminded her of a bathroom door flying open to give her a more intimate view of an opera singer than she’d ever imagined.
She wasn’t supposed to be remembering that. Not only was she the world’s worst wedding planner, there was the side gig as a matchmaker – which she was also screwing up spectacularly.
‘Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up. I have a first aid kit in my bag.’
A violent shiver racked him and he fumbled in his pockets, retrieving a pair of fine leather gloves that belonged on the catwalk in Milan and not at 2150m of altitude. His scarf looked to be made of wool, with an intricate pattern in grey and blue, but it was far too thin.
‘Didn’t you bring any snow gear?’ she asked.
‘I don’t own any. I didn’t realise…’
When he trailed off, she turned to find his gaze turned up again, taking in the ever-changing panorama of the peaks in the fog. They were only at the first station and the views would get so much better, but he appeared to run out of words anyway.
‘I didn’t realise any of this,’ he said when he’d regained his balance. ‘I didn’t know what it would be like up here.’
‘That’s fair enough,’ she replied, leading him into the men’s toilets without hesitation and propping her pack on the sink to find her first aid kit. ‘Were you feeling sick in the gondola?’
He shook his head and then shrugged with less certainty. ‘A little. It was more?—’
‘The sounds?’ she guessed. ‘But it’s quiet.’
‘That’s worse sometimes,’ he admitted. ‘I can feel tinnitus closing in on me.’
‘What about the pressure in your ears? Is it painful? You have something to suck on in your pocket, right? Might help for the next one.’
He appeared surprised for a moment that she knew what was in his pockets, but he had been quite strung out when he’d emptied them in front of her two nights ago. ‘You’re right. I’m sure that’ll help.’
She moistened a swab and approached carefully, trying to focus on his words and not the intimate position she’d found herself in with him once more. He clutched the sink with his fine hands and she could imagine he was resisting reaching for her to steady himself. That probably wasn’t the case. More likely, she was misreading his gaze and imagining the air between them growing thin.
When she dabbed at the scratch, he hissed in shock.
‘It’s not deep,’ she reassured him.
‘I don’t think I’d cope if something actually happened to me – blood spurting and all of that. I’d pass out.’ Another smile threatened, but it was preferable to that nonsense about the air between them.
‘Sometimes, that makes people easier to treat,’ she said evenly, cleaning the last of the blood. It was a minor abrasion, but it would probably scab over into a dark, dappled patch on his forehead that would show up in photos. ‘You know,’ she continued with a sigh, ‘I’ve worked on two weddings so far and in both of them, we’ve had to patch up a bridesmaid.’
He laughed, full and rich, like his singing voice, and it showered down Kira’s spine. ‘I’m not strictly speaking a bridesmaid, although I’ll allow it, since I am on Alessandra’s side. Bridesman, perhaps?’
‘“Bridesman” sounds like a spy code name or a mythical creature. You’re definitely rather the mythical creature.’ She mumbled the last part, forgetting he would hear every word.
But if his expression was anything to go by, he enjoyed what he heard. ‘Does Alessandra know this is the experience you bring? Patching up mythical creatures?’
She stuck her chin out. ‘First aid training is always an asset.’
The next thing she felt, to her utter shock, was his finger under her chin, the smooth tip of his thumb moving along her jaw, and his face close enough to feel a gust of his breath. Oh, shit, there was no universe she’d imagined where he touched her like this, as though stage lights shone right on them.
‘Mattia,’ she began, meaning to put him off, but not quite managing to form any more words, her breath short.
