Page 83 of Tour Wars
If he could make himself vulnerable, then so could she. “I don’t want to lose you, either. You’re coming back to the States in December, right?”Please say yes.
“You bet. I’m flying home in six weeks. Even though I’m a masterful tour guide, I need a real job. I’ve already started looking, but as of today, I’ve decided to narrow my search. West Coast only, preferably Southern California.”
She drew in a breath, stunned at what he was implying. “I didn’t ask you to do that.”
“I know, but what’s the point of landing an amazing job if it takes me thousands of miles from the woman I love? I’ve applied everywhere I can think of, and I’d even be okay doing salvage archaeology if Rick’s boss would be willing to hire me. I think we could make it work as long as you’re on board with it.”
She was about to argue that he shouldn’t sacrifice his career goals for her, but she stopped herself. Whyshouldn’the make this sacrifice? Wasn’t she worth it? Maybe fate would smile on them for once.
“I’m definitely on board,” she said. “If you could find a job in California, that would be ideal. I really like it here.”
“And you like what you’re doing?”
“I do. It’s a good fit. I’m not sure if I’ll stick with contract archaeology long-term, but for now, it’s perfect.” The rain began falling, the drops spattering her hair and shoulders, but she didn’t move from her spot on the bench. After days of hot, dry weather, the cool drizzle had a cathartic effect. “It’s going to be so hard to wait until December to see you.”
“It’ll go by quicker than you think. In the meantime, I’ll send you sexy texts. Racy images from the lupanar at Pompeii. Photos of the Trojan horse. I’ll make you videos where I’m serenading you on the piano. Whatever it takes to keep us connected until we can meet in person again. Does that sound okay?”
Even across the miles, his eagerness was irresistible. How had she ever thought she could cut him out of her life? “It sounds perfect.”
Maybe it didn’t matter what fate had in store for them. This time, they’d take the reins and take control of their future. Together.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-THREE
Six Weeks Later
Emilia sat in traffic, cursing the owner of the big rig who’d jackknifed into the side of the road. While snow in Wisconsin might be the norm in December, the first big storm of the season always left the freeways a sloppy mess. She’d already passed three other accidents, including a car that had spun off into a ditch.
She was tempted to send TJ a message telling him she’d be late, but she didn’t want to get busted for texting and driving. As it was, she was already on edge, excited and nervous at the prospect of seeing him again. Like her, he was visiting his family for the holidays, so they’d agreed to meet at a restaurant halfway between her home in Milwaukee and his in the north Chicago suburbs.
Ever since she’d called him about Davis’ video six weeks ago, they’d stayed in contact. In their phone calls, they’d opened up to each other. She’d shared stories of her mom, admitting things to him that she’d never told anyone. The acute pain of losing someone she loved and the void that still lingered in her heart. TJ understood her in a way few other people could since he’d lost his father at the same age.
When she’d confessed that she hadn’t told her dad the truth about Italy, TJ encouraged her to reach out to him. Over the Thanksgiving break, she’d flown home to Wisconsin and had a long, heartfelt conversation with her dad about Pompeii. He wasn’t mad at her—not even a little. Instead, he asked if he and the rest of the Flores family could leave scathing reviews of Buon Viaggio, despite the fact that none of them had ever visited Italy.
As a bonus, he was so grateful to TJ for exposing the Robertis that he’d encouraged Emilia to invite him over to dinner this week. While she appreciated the offer, she didn’t want her reunion with TJ held under the prying eyes of her extended family. Her cousins were so nosy that they’d “accidentally” drop by during mealtime just to check him out. Instead, she and TJ had made plans to meet up for dinner in Lake Geneva at a bistro serving Italian fare.
But now she was ten minutes late, with no sign the traffic would start moving.
After ensuring no cops were nearby, she sent TJ a message.
Stuck in traffic. I’ll be there as soon as I can!
* * *
When TJ’sphone buzzed with a text from Emilia, he was relieved she was on her way. A week ago, when he’d made their dinner reservation, he hadn’t counted on the weather wreaking havoc on their plans. Fortunately, the winter storm meant the restaurant was less full than usual, so no one had hounded him for nursing his glass of Cabernet for twenty minutes.
Inside the bistro, the space was cozy and intimate, with rustic wooden tables, framed black-and-white photos of Italy, and big picture windows. But outside? The snow was coming down harder—thick, wet flakes that coated the sidewalk. Maybe he’d been an idiot, asking Emilia to drive all this way. But after waiting two and a half months to see her, he’d wanted their reunion to be memorable. The location he’d chosen—Lake Geneva—held a special place in his heart. Back when his dad was still alive, his family had often taken weekend getaways at the popular resort town.
As he stared out the window, watching the snow fall, he let his mind wander. While he was glad to be back home, he definitely wasn’t ready for the full onslaught of a Midwestern winter. He was tempted to text Emilia and suggest she turn back but couldn’t come up with the right words. The last thing he wanted to do was imply that she couldn’t handle the snow. Then again, he didn’t want to put her safety at risk, either.
The door to the restaurant opened, letting in a blast of chilly air. He looked up, hoping Emilia had made it through the storm. To his immense relief, she strode in, her long, dark hair dusted with snowflakes. As she took off her parka, his breath caught at the sight of her. Clad in a figure-hugging green velvet dress and a pair of death-defying heels, she looked so sexy he instantly wished they were meeting somewhere a little less public.
She took off her coat, slung it over her arm, and glanced around the restaurant. When their eyes met, she ran over to his table but stumbled as she reached him. He bolted out of his seat and caught her in time.
She gazed at him with a wry smile. “Obviously, I still haven’t mastered the art of running in heels.”
“It’s okay. I’m here to catch you whenever you need it.”
Having her this close was far too tempting. He was gripped with the urge to run his hands along her curves and kiss her passionately, but he didn’t think the other restaurant patrons would appreciate the display. He settled for pressing his forehead against hers in an act that felt almost as intimate as kissing.
