He’d give anything to erase that awful night. Anything at all.
“Lying only leads to regrets.” He looked at Jules. She didn’t seem as hostile now. In fact, the way she was gazing at him it was as if she was trying to read him. “What does any of this matter, anyway? They were just flowers. I’m sure there are lots of other shops that would be more than willing to take our business.”
“Not if you keep shooting your mouth off like that. These people like to know that they are dealing with the person in charge—”
“And that’s you—”
“Not in this case. This is a wedding. The bride is always in charge. It’s her wedding. Her big day. The whole thing revolves around her. And these people have been down the aisle enough times to know how it works.”
“So if that’s the case, why’s Lizzie dumping it all in your lap instead of delaying the wedding?”
“Because she trusts me. We’re the only family each other has. We know each other better than anyone in the world, and she knows that I will plan the perfect wedding for her.”
“I hope you’re right. About knowing her so well.”
Jules’s lips lifted in a small smile. “You don’t have to worry.” She lifted her phone and waved it in his face. “I’ve been texting and sending photos on top of talking to her every day. She’s on top of things. I’m just acting as her mouthpiece.”
That bit of news sent a wave of relief through him. But they still had to find flowers, someplace without such a picky saleswoman.
“Well, Ms. Mouthpiece, any ideas where we should go next?”
“I don’t know. Let me see.” She started typing on her smartphone.
When she turned to start walking, he called out, “You’re going the wrong way.”
She glanced up, confusion reflected in her beautiful eyes. “Oh.”
Quietly they retraced their steps. Her focus was on her phone. And his attention was on keeping her from walking into other pedestrians. When they reached the car, she had another florist for them to try. But it was nearing lunchtime, and he really needed a break before they set out again.
He turned to Jules. “How about lunch?”
“Already?” When she glanced at the time on her phone, her lips formed an O. “I didn’t realize it was so late. Would you mind if we had lunch at Ristorante Massimo? I have a couple of things to go over with Lizzie.”
“Sounds like a plan. Why don’t you call ahead? Dante can have something waiting for us so it won’t take so long. Those two stops this morning took forever. I hope we don’t have to wait that long in the next shop.” He didn’t know if he had the patience for this wedding shopping. It was like watching a grape ripen—painfully slow.
“I hope so, too, or the shopping is going to take us more than a week. And with time being of the essence, we have to move quickly. We still have the cake to pick out.”
“Why didn’t we do that first?”
Jules grinned at him. “Because the cake tasting is the best part of this whole adventure. It’s like a reward.”
He smiled and shook his head. “I don’t know how someone as slender as you can gorge on cake.”
“You just watch, and I’ll show you.” Her eyes twinkled with mischief.
Jules was a breath of fresh air. She was nothing like the women that lived in the nearby village, who enjoyed a more sedate way of life. And yet she wasn’t like some of the posh urban women who attended the wine-tasting events and were always in such a hurry. Jules had an air about her, but it was all her own.
The more time he spent with her, the more he was beginning to like her—really like her. And that just couldn’t happen.
CHAPTER NINE
A DELICIOUS LUNCH could change one’s perspective.
If Jules had known food could put a smile on Stefano’s face, she’d have suggested it ages ago. He’d actually started a conversation, but it was directed at Dante, not her. And it was about one of his favorite subject—grapes. Still it had been nice watching him let down his guard and relax.
But as soon as they climbed back in the car, the walls around him went back up, blocking her out. She didn’t understand what she’d done to get him to hold her at arm’s length. Surely he still wasn’t upset about the salesclerk thinking they were a couple.
Jules glanced down at her black skirt, black stockings and black boots. Okay, so maybe her color choice was a bit somber, but her styles weren’t.
She gave herself a mental jerk. What was she doing? Reevaluating her clothes because of a guy that barely tolerated her? She was fine just the way she was. And black was her favorite color.