by Way, Maggie
What is Gabe up to? I open my door and make a sharp right to the next room, number 16. I knock the door in a way that Gabe knows it’s me – three successive knocks, followed by two slow ones.
“Come in!”
I turn the golden knob and walk into another gorgeous room. Unlike the cool blue ocean theme my room had, Gabe’s is like a warm rustic Spanish villa with yellow mustard walls and green furniture. Green bed sheets, velvet green curtains, a faded green dining table.
Gabe has changed from his usual ensemble of a neat cardigan, shirt and jeans into a linen shirt and white shorts. As usual he keeps his white scarf on, because that’s what Gabe does best – look stylish 24/7. From the looks of it, he has already started unpacking most of his things, including his large toiletry bag, filled with his hair products and creams. Unlike me, he packs 30/70 so he will be looking a lot more stylish than me.
“I just wanted to see how you were going. Looks like you’re settling in pretty well.” I walk in and take a seat on the firm double bed. Gabe continues to take some more clothes out of the suitcase, arranging them into planned outfits.
“Girl, you have no idea how much I’m loving this right now. Once I get my clothes sorted, we have to make our way down to the pool and get some cocktails.”
“I won’t have any, I’m meeting Amelia tonight for dinner. I want to be prepared in case she wants to go through our plans for her; any questions she might have,” I stress, trying to sound calm.
“Geez she said to worry about that tomorrow, tonight is just dinner. And knowing you, you are twice as prepared as anyone I know. Enjoy your first day here!” he insists, focused on his garments.
He’s got a point. I haven’t even been in Italy for four hours and all I can think about is getting my laptop and finishing my third run sheet - and starting the dark peppermint crunch block.
I heave a sigh. “I guess you're right.”
“Of course I'm right. Relax, girl! Let's go down to the pool and get some cocktails. Which board shorts should I put on? The gay pair or the really gay pair?” He points to two pairs of barely-there briefs, a white one and a baby pink one. I'm guessing the pink one is the 'really gay' pair.
“Go with the white one, you want to make people guess about your sexuality…for an extra minute at least.”
Gabe lets out a quick chuckle, “Why would I want to do such a thing? Fine, only because you said so. Go get changed! I'll get you in ten minutes.”
He grabs the tight whities and saunters to the bathroom, leaving the door wide open. I know he'll be more than ten minutes, so I’m not going to hold my breath and wait here. For someone with short hair, he spends an awfully long amount of time styling it with his endless amounts of creams, mousses and gels. Unlike me, I manage my wild and unruly hair with a wooden brush, hair ties and bobby pins.
I force myself off this ridiculously comfortable bed and open the door, walking with my head sticking out without looking. Without warning, the sudden impact hits me. Just like a speeding car heading out of a drive way, I've crashed into someone.
The mystery victim stumbles back. I look downwards and I see a tone chest beneath a tight grey t-shirt. Tanned, lean arms.
“Scusi, Io non ho visto…”
That accent, it’s so thick. It’s deep, hypnotic and lush.
“I-I’m so sorry—” I keep my eyes glued to the floor, trying to avoid looking at him. Given the way his voice sounded, I don’t even want to imagine how his face looks.
I can sense a pair of eyes looking at me, and I’m all too aware that I don’t have bra on. To think I slammed into his chest with my bare breasts like that. Hesitantly, I look up at this mystery man with the unbelievably suggestive voice.
I didn’t think it was possible, but his face is even more pleasant than his voice. Olive skin, wide and inviting jade eyes, tousled honey coloured hair, are the first things I noticed. The perfect scattering of blond stubble on his square jawline set off his full, bee-stung lips. This is the face of an angel, a Botticelli angel. If he was a half a foot taller he could easily be a model, but he only stands a few inches taller than me. I’ve got to admit, he’s gorgeous.
“No sorry bella….”
Words are not coming out of my mouth right now.
“Come ti chiami? Your name?”
My mind draws a blank. My name, my name… How can I not know the answer to this?
“Lacey.” I smile weakly at him thankful my brain hasn’t suddenly dissolved to the mental capacity of a two-year-old.
He takes a lingering glance at me, stopping short of my décolletage once again making me conscious that I’m not wearing a bra. What a sleaze! With an impish grin on his face, he starts to move backwards and turns towards the hall.
“Ciao, signorina Lacey.” is all he says and he walks down the corridor without looking back at me. The way he says my name, the way it rolls off his tongue and pronounces it is sexy.
What was that? I couldn’t string two sentences together. I almost forgot my name, for god’s sake. Get a grip Lacey, it’s just a guy. But who am I kidding, I’ve always been shy around cute guys. The idea of one flirting with me makes me shudder with despair, I’m totally clueless about it. I’m That Wedding Girl – give me a sixty guest wedding in a foreign country to plan any day. But having a thirty second conversation with a tanned lothario? That’s something I don’t have much experience in.
All of a sudden, Gabe opens the door behind me and steps out with a big towel in his hand, his aviator sunglasses on his forehead. “Hey, you’re not changed yet! I thought you were getting ready,” he whines.
“No, I am ready,” I grin to myself.
I’m suddenly feeling much more settled in, and keen to check out the scenery.
Get Book Two – Amalfi Coast here!
ARE YOU EXCITED FOR THE NEXT DESTINATION?
If you enjoyed this book, found it useful or otherwise then I’d really appreciate it if you would post a short review on Amazon and or Goodreads. I don’t want to have to beg but since I am a nobody at this stage I could use all the love I can get. I’ll reward (or punish) you with more of my work!
I do read all the reviews personally so that I can continually write what people are wanting.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I could not have done this without the following people (you know who you are but I’ll embarrass you anyway)
To my love Andrew – thank you for being my first beta reader, go-to opinion for male lingo and being you.
To my parents – thank you for saying I should have written years ago, I’m glad I’m finally doing it now.
To GY – thank you for starting before me. We’ll both get there one day, I know it.
To May – thank you for all the helpful advice from the very start, you have been an absolute godsend!
To Tracy – you are brilliant, that is all.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Maggie Way is old enough to write about sexy romance, but young enough to blush at the steamy scenes. She hails from Sydney, Australia and lives with her boyfriend in who gets the privilege (and curse) of being the first to read her work.
When she isn’t in her own make-believe world conjuring up fresh and romantic adventures that lets her readers escape the daily grind, she likes to travel and watch cheesy movies while having fine cheese and wine with her girlfriends.
You can contact her at [email protected]
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