Page 10 of Her Italian Wedding (Sweet Treats 9)

Melissa giggles, her eyes dancing merrily.

“But this isn’t a cabin. This is a palace, albeit a rustic one.”

I wink at her.

“We have a lot of plans, cara,” I say. “We want the Milan chapter of Dads and Daughters to thrive, so we’re following the formula in your American movie Field of Dreams: build it and they will come.”

Melissa giggles again.

“That old Kevin Costner flick? It was good,” she agrees. “But did he actually end up attracting all the players he wanted?”

I shrug mirthfully.

“Who knows? It’s the spirit of the movie that draws us. So American. So hopeful, optimistic, and confident, even in the face of adversity. Build it and they will come. I love it. Lo adora.”

Melissa giggles too

“Lo amo anche io. I love it too.”

Domenico waves us onwards.

“Come on, slowpokes,” he growls. “Let’s look at something besides empty rooms.”

We laugh and follow him down a hallway. The hallway is still in a very rough state, but Melissa doesn’t seem to mind as sawdust comes up off the floor in plumes. The walls haven’t been finished yet, but she trails a finger along one edge suggestively.

“Careful, sweetheart,” I rasp. “I don’t want you to get a splinter.”

She laughs coyly, with a twinkle in her eye.

“No, it’s fine,” she says. “I love the smell of new wood though,” she adds, inhaling deeply. “It’s wonderful: piney and forest-y at once.”

I wink at her.

“Is forest-y a word?”

The pretty brunette laughs again.

“Probably not, but I like it.”

“Then I love it,” I say, smiling broadly again.

Matteo laughs too and opens a door on the left.

“You two stop flirting,” he commands with a grin. “Here’s where the bathroom is going to be. What do you think?”

Melissa steps inside and stops.

“Well, there isn’t much yet,” she says diplomatically. “I see they haven’t put the sinks in.”

I step in behind her, dwarfing the curvy girl with my huge form. Sure enough, there are two sinks lying on their sides on the bare wooden floor.

“Sorry about that,” I apologize. “But the toilet should be hooked up, if you need to use it,” I say, pressing down on the handle. Sure enough, a whoosh sounds and the water in the bowl flushes out. But then a weird gurgling sound comes from the floor where the sinks lie, and we see some wetness seeping upwards.

“Oh shit!” exclaims Matteo, dropping to his knees immediately. He examines the wet spot as it grows. “The hook-ups weren’t shut off right. The workers weren’t finished with the job, but still. It’s important to close up correctly before leaving for the night.”

Melissa looks thoughtful.

“Where are the construction workers?” she asks, looking around. “Has the crew already left for the day?”

I grin at her.

“It’s Saturday, cara. Italians don’t work weekends, unlike Americans.”

The pretty girl blushes attractively.

“Oh right. I’m all mixed up from traveling and different time zones and whatnot. But okay. So we have the place to ourselves. Should we do something fun?” she asks with a cheeky grin.

My eyebrows raise and I meet Matteo’s eyes over her head. Is this girl thinking what we’re thinking? Slowly, my friend nods, and I throw Melissa a long look.

“Well, why don’t we show you something special about this bathroom?” I begin, reaching for a large sheet of wood. It’s thin and flexible, yet sturdy too. It’s about eight feet tall and six feet across, and most interestingly, there’s a cut-out the shape of a watermelon in the middle.

“What is that?” asks Melissa curiously. “Is that where the sink is going to go?”

I shake my head.

“No, not exactly. In fact, there’s supposed to be another cut-out right next to this one. The same size too.”

But Melissa’s still confused.

“It’s for the two sinks, right? This is a piece of the wall, and you’ll hook up the two sinks through these holes.”

I shake my head slowly again and meet Matteo’s eyes. This time, my friend speaks.

“Not exactly,” he says. “This is going to be a bathroom with a purple door. Do you have those at your Lodge?”

Melissa immediately grows alert.

“No,” she breathes. “But we have doors that are blue, and I know what that means.”

Matteo laughs deep in his chest.

“Exactly. Blue doors mean glory holes, and purple is a variation on that. Would you like to know what it means?” he asks.

Melissa is as still as a hummingbird as she trembles in place. Her bosom rises and falls, and I ache to stroke those soft mounds.

“No, what?” she asks.

“Well, these are reverse holes,” I growl. “The wall will go up around here,” I say, pulling the sheet of wood towards the center of the bathroom. “Women will stand here,” I say, gesturing to one side of the wood. “Men will be on the other side.”

But the curvy girl is still confused.

“I don’t understand,” she says. “These holes are far too big to serve their purpose. Of course, Italian men are huge,” she says quickly, blushing prettily. “It’s just that no one is this huge,” she says. “You could pass a baby through here.”

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