make a sound. I’m frozen in utter terror, like a mummified, petrified creature from the Ice Age—
Wait, what? What is that? What’s happening right now?
Before my eyes, Dutch is wrenching the arm of the guy with the knife and twisting it in some efficient practiced maneuver, and somehow he’s got hold of the knife. How did he do that? How?
All the time he’s shouting, “Run, run!” and suddenly I realize he means me. He wants me to go.
But before I can run, the teenagers do. They sprint away, up the street, around the corner, and I sag against Dutch in shock. It’s only about thirty seconds since we rounded the corner, but I feel as though the world has stopped and started again. Dutch is breathing very hard but simply says, “Are you OK?” then adds, “We should get to the car. They might get some stupid ideas about coming back.”
“How…how did you do that?” I stutter as we move along the street, and Dutch shoots me a look of surprise.
“What?”
“Get that knife off them!”
“Learned,” says Dutch with a shrug. “Everyone should learn. You should learn. It’s basic safety. I live in a big city—” He breaks off. “Right. Sorry. No personal details.”
“I don’t think that matters right now,” I say with a laugh that is perilously near to a sob.
“Aria!” Dutch looks stricken and stops to pull me close. “It’s OK,” he says in a low voice. “It’s over.”
“I know,” I say against his firm chest. “Sorry. I’m fine. I’m overreacting.”
“You’re not,” says Dutch firmly. “Anyone would be shaken up. But I think we should keep walking,” he adds, holding my hand tighter as we move on. “Don’t worry. I’m right here with you.”
His voice soothes my jangled nerves and strengthens my trembling legs. As we walk, he starts reading out all the road signs in deliberately bad pronunciation, making me laugh. And by the time we’re in the car, driving back along the coast road, munching pizza from a different vendor, it’s almost as though the whole thing never happened. Except that every time I look at him, my heart melts even more.
He saved my life. He’s hot and he loves dogs and we jumped off rocks together and he saved my life.
We drop the car at the hire garage, then walk the hundred feet or so back to the monastery, letting ourselves in through the massive wooden door. The entrance courtyard is empty and I pause, looking around its tranquil candlelit cloister. It’s like another world from the one we’ve been in. Swallows are wheeling against the indigo sky, and I can smell verbena in the air.
“Quite an afternoon,” says Dutch with a wry laugh. “You came here for a peaceful writing retreat and instead you’ve had an adrenaline roller coaster. Is your heart still thumping?”
“Uh-huh.” I smile and nod.
My heart is thumping. But not for that reason anymore. It’s thumping because of where we are in the evening.
All afternoon I’ve been thinking with anticipation, Tonight…tonight…maybe tonight…And now here we are. The two of us. With an empty night in Italy ahead of us.
As I meet his eyes again, my chest feels constricted with lust. It’s almost painful, this desire of mine. Because we’re not done. We are so not done. I can still feel his mouth, his hands, his hair entwined in my fingers. My skin is longing for his. My everything is longing for his.
“No point joining the others,” says Dutch, as though reading my mind, and his fingers brush against mine.
“No.”
“My room’s at the end of the corridor,” he adds conversationally. “Kind of secluded.”
“Sounds great,” I say, trying to contain the tremor in my voice. “Can I…see it?”
“Sure. Why not?”
Without any further words, we turn and walk along the corridor, our footsteps matching, our fingertips touching. My breaths are short. I’m nearly dying of need here. But somehow I manage to put one foot in front of the other like a normal person.
We get to a wooden studded door and Dutch produces an iron key. He gives me a long look which makes my stomach swoop, then reaches to unlock the door.
“Your personal question,” I say, remembering suddenly. “You still haven’t asked it.”
A trace of amusement appears on Dutch’s face. He surveys me for a moment before leaning forward to kiss me, long and hard, his hands gripping my hips. Then he bends in still farther, gently bites my neck, and whispers, “We’ll get to that.”