Can't Hurry Love
Page 28
He had a fondness for her “You Had Me at Merlot” T-shirt and would have requested that if asked. But this was better.
“You take my breath,” he whispered, when she put her hand in his.
She squeezed his fingers. “It’s happy-ever-after this time.”
They pursued that on a return trip to Tuscany. As she’d reclaimed the cottage, they both wanted to reclaim the joy of that long-ago summer. In bed, as the sun rose on their first honeymoon morning, she rolled her head on her pillow to look at him. “I’ve forgotten all my Italian.”
He laughed, because it was yet another replay. “You know the most important word,” he murmured to her, as he had ten years before. “Baciami, Giuliana. Baciami.”
Kiss me.
Liam kept only one secret from his bride—that of his father’s feelings for her mother and the real meaning behind the red rosebushes at the end of the rows in the Bennett vineyards. He went back and forth with what to do with them. It wasn’t until they were nearing the end of their three weeks in Tuscany that the right answer occurred to him and he called Penn for assistance.
When they arrived back in Edenville, the traditional bushes were still in place in the vineyards. Instead of pulling them out, he’d had another planted near the front door of the Bennett house. It flowered there, a hybrid that bloomed with both red and white roses—a symbol of their united families and a gift to welcome his Baci girl home.
Epilogue
Molly Michaels was getting married in the morning. Not really. She was only thirteen years old and a mere junior bridesmaid (though so much better than being a babyish flower girl like her younger cousin!) and it was fun to pretend it was her wedding scheduled for Saturday morning in the Tanti Baci cottage.
She played make-believe during the entire rehearsal, then was cut loose while the photographer took even more pictures of her big sister and the college guy who was her fiancé. Her dad thought they weren’t old enough for marriage, but her mom reminded him they’d been the exact same age when they’d said “I do.” Her Grandma Delle had rolled her eyes and said, “Young love.” Like it was a disease. (Molly thought it sounded interesting, now that she was thirteen.)
Outside the cottage, she ran into one of her best friends, Fab Parini, whose family part-owned the winery. At school, the students thought Fab was short for Fabiana, but at their last sleepover, Molly had crossed her heart and hoped to die before finding out that Fab’s real name was Monique and Fab was short for Fabulosa, something silly her relatives had taken to calling her before she was born. Molly loved that story and wasn’t surprised because the Parinis all had exotic names. There was Fab’s little sister, Suzette, as well as her eight-year-old twin brothers Mario and Alonzo (who were pretty adorable when they weren’t sticking grapes up their noses and telling fart jokes).
Fab’s brothers and sister were hanging around the grapes, clamoring for a game of hide-and-seek in the vines. Fab said they had to wait until their cousins finished up the homework they were doing in their mom, Alessandra Bennett’s, office. They were seven and five, so it didn’t take very long before Elena and Sam were milling about, too.
Molly was torn about participating. While she was bored with standing around, she didn’t know if she wanted to chance getting dirty when she had on a very pretty pink dress with puff sleeves and her mom had let her wear a tiny dab of mascara and a swipe of lip gloss (well, her mom hadn’t noticed that Molly had dabbed the mascara and swiped on the lip gloss—weddings were all consuming for mothers of the bride, she’d discovered). She was still undecided when Fab’s other girl cousin, nine-year-old Devon Bennett, arrived. But then Devon’s brother appeared on-scene and Molly’s interest piqued. Liam Bennett (but everybody called him Lee, on account of his dad having the same first name) was a grade younger than Molly. But he was already a head taller, with blond hair, blue eyes, and square shoulders that looked as if they belonged on a high-schooler.
Molly heard he played basketball, baseball, and piano. He glanced at her as he joined his passel of young relatives, all of them talking at once, arguing about the rules of the game. “Wanna play?” he asked.
A little tingle warmed the pit of her stomach. She looked down at her pretty pink dress and then up at the very, very cute boy. “Sure,” she said. Young love. (If it was a disease, how come she felt so happy catching it?)
AUTHOR’S NOTE
As has been mentioned in the other Three Kisses books, Crush on You and Then He Kissed Me, the Napa Valley is designated as an agricultural preserve, which restricts the kinds of events that can be hosted at the area wineries. Over the years, the rules have been challenged and revised. For my fictional purposes, the “I-dos” will go forward at Tanti Baci forever.
I would like to acknowledge my early-morning walking buddies, Lisa and Micki, who are kind enough to listen to me hash out my stories as we stride along. Their interested ears are on either side of their smart and busy brains, and they’ve helped me unknot a plot tangle more than once. Thank you so much!
Titles by Christie Ridgway
HOW TO KNIT A WILD BIKINI
UNRAVEL ME
DIRTY SEXY KNITTING
CRUSH ON YOU
THEN HE KISSED ME
CAN’T HURRY LOVE