Page 31 of The Winter Kissed Kings

I reel back when something hits me in the shoulder. Daisy has just thumped me and her face does not look amused. “No.” she says hotly. That’s it, just “no” from her. I turn back to Alberto and tell him we will take it. I’ve only rented it and have every intention of returning it in two days’ time.

“Please,” I beg Daisy. I’m not prideful, I really want to drive Maggie the Motorbike to Orvieto. I deploy my puppy eyes—Daisy could never say no to those bad boys. She is full-on scowling at me, but I see the cracks forming. I double my efforts. These are the best puppy eyes I have ever given and boom, she wilts like a leaf in winter. Well, she throws her hands in the air, huffs, and storms out. I’ll take that as a “Yes, Callie, by all means let’s drive Millie to Orvieto.” Score.

To make her feel better, I also rent helmets that have dog ears attached. They are going to look so damn cute flapping about as we drive. Shit, I wish I had a leather jacket now. Ah well, I have aviator sunglasses, so that will have to do.

With the rental signed, I drive Millie to the street from the back carpark. Daisy takes one look at me and then my helmet and covers her eyes with her hand. I think she’s impressed. The sidecar has a little boot which is too fucking adorable. Luckily we are travelling light and everything fits inside okay. With great reluctance, Daisy slides into the padded sidecar. I hand her the other helmet and wait.

It’s like we’re in a showdown. Daisy is glaring at me, and I’m smiling back at her. One of us will have to break, we can’t stay here looking at each other all day. A growl leaves Daisy’s throat, and she slams the helmet on. I silently laugh because I was right, she looks awesome in her dog helmet. I kick the bike back to life again and set off. Orvieto, here we come.

Chapter 18

Daisy

Let me give you the definition of the word mortification. It’s a noun meaning great embarrassment or shame. A couple of other words you could use to express the feeling are humiliation and chagrin. It doesn’t really matter, just pick one, and that’s how I am feeling right now.

I’m sitting in a sidecar that is attached to a motorbike. The vehicle is bright orange and, quite frankly, my part of the ensemble is shaped like a bullet vibrator. Let’s add my open face dog helmet to the mix and I’m hoping you are getting the level of mortification I’m feeling right now.

Callie is loving every second and if it wasn’t for that fact, I would be throwing a tantrum right now. I’m not too old to stamp my feet and scream in frustration. It’s difficult to do that though when your travel companion is grinning like an idiot with her own dog helmet on and aviator shades. I guarantee she would kill for a leather jacket right now. I’m guessing she thinks she’s Steve McQueen fromThe Great Escape,although I think we resemble Wallace and Gromit if I’m honest. Especially with the fucking helmets.

What was wrong with a nice comfy car? Hell, I would take one of those Smart Cars over this. I’ve lost count of the amount of people who have overtaken us with their phones pointed in our direction. We’re going to be a fucking meme, I can feel it. One consolation is that Callie didn’t insist on me wearing the goggles that were tucked in the sidecar. I’ll stick with my Raybans, thanks.

We have been driving for two hours. I have to say that Callie certainly knows how to show a girl the sights. We’ve been weaving around country roads and the views have been fantastic. If this was a real holiday, I would have asked her to stop several times. Especially when we drove past an olive farm. I bet their oil is out of this world. But it’s not a holiday so we plough on.

Callie seems more determined now. I really thought that after the photo incident she was going to lose it a bit, but I was wrong. If anything, the threat against my brother and, therefore me by proxy, has ignited something in her.

Chris leaving us was a blow even though it was absolutely the right call. Derek and Meryl are fantastic and I can’t wait for all this to be over so we can see them again. Whether they know it or not, I’ve adopted them as surrogate parents. Actually, I think all three of us have.

Just three more stops and then the book will be complete. I will definitely be going through it with a fine-tooth comb before I hand it over. Callie has left the task of finding the right authority to me. I’ve decided to bring my mentor in on it. I trust her and I know she will point us in the right direction.

A sudden jolt snaps me out of my thoughts. Callie has slammed on the brakes because another Italian driver overtakes on the other side of the road and is heading straight for us. Nothing gets your heart pumping like being twenty centimetres off the ground in a vibrator mobile whilst a car speeds at you on the wrong side of the white line.

If I ever return to Italy, I will not be driving. They are fucking crazy here. I watched a woman in something that looked an awful lot like a Playmobil car harass a BMW for twenty kilometres. She was up his arse the entire time until eventually she overtook him, cursing. Bonkers, all of them.

We crest a hill and my breath gets stolen out of my lungs. In the distance is Orvieto. I did a little reading up on it before we set off. It’s a city that’s perched on the flat summit of a large volcanic tuff. There is definitely a fairytale feel to it. I cannot wait to get there. A) So I can exit this bloody sidecar, and B) because even though we have to get the pages, I want to explore this gorgeous city with Callie. She told me they have phenomenal gelato.

Callie parks the motorbike in a carpark at the lowest point of the city. Apparently, the walk up is a must do and who am I to argue with that? I jump out of the sidecar, rip the helmet off, and walk in the other direction as fast as I can. Callie catches up to me seconds later, laughing. I’m so glad she finds my humiliation funny, although by now even I can crack a smile.

We walk together slowly. Neither of us are in a rush. Now and then our hands brush and all I want to do is lace our fingers together, so that’s what I do. If she’s surprised, she doesn’t show it. The little smile she’s trying to hide tells me she wants it just as much as me. We wander through the streets and I am captivated. Sandy buildings tower above us. Creeping plants adorn the walls. The streets are medieval with cobbled roads.

I follow Callie as she shows me different parts of the city. She hasn’t once indicated that she wants to get the pages. For once, I think she’s actually enjoying herself. Her hands are flying as she signs rapidly with excitement. I can’t help but smile. We sit down for the famous gelato she was raving about. After the first bite, I know I could polish off my body weight of the stuff.

We hadn’t planned to stay, in fact Callie was the one to suggest we grab the pages and head back to Florence in one day, but now I can see she’s regretting that.

“We could grab a hotel for the night?” I know she wants to so I don’t mind being the one to suggest it.

“Really?”

“Why not? Let’s get the pages so it’s done with and then we can enjoy our night and head out tomorrow.”

We find a nice boutique hotel and reserve a room. It’s already past lunchtime and so we sit and eat. The pizza I order is ridiculously good. It’s a simple tomato and pesto thin crust and it is orgasmic. I could marry this pizza and have its babies. Callie gets a four cheese one and by the face she’s pulling as she bites into a slice I would hazard a guess it’s good.

The tickets for the underground tour are booked and we’re standing in line. There is a crowd of about twenty, which is good. We can stick to the back of the group, making it less likely to be caught. Callie told me that the hiding place requires her to climb a little. This should be interesting.

I hate caves. I’m not a fan of small spaces but I’m not exactly claustrophobic. It’s the cold. Funny considering I live in Scotland but I detest the cold. My wardrobe is stuffed with big wool jumpers, gloves, and thermals. My friends who are Scottish-born love to rib me.

We start to descend. Callie is interpreting what the guide is saying, which I wish she wouldn’t. Only because it’s causing people to notice us. I tell her to stop and she looks a little put out. I see her glaring at the couple in front of us who keep looking back at us. I stifle a laugh because Callie, in protective mode, is adorable. I think she’s about as intimidating as a Care Bear, but hey, maybe others find that terrifying.

The tour continues. The underground is a labyrinth of grottoes. It’s hard not to feel the history as we walk. So far we’ve been down here for forty-five minutes, meaning we have a round fifteen before it’s done. The pathway veers to the right and I feel Callie tense. Her eyes are slightly panicked and I know something has gone wrong. The end of the tour drags out until finally we exit and head to a café. I sit at a little table and wait for Cal to get back with our coffees. She sits down and her leg instantly starts bobbing up and down with nerves.

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