Hired:The Italian's Bride

She led him across the lane and up a small, single track path. Little traffic ventured along here, but she could always see her little cottage just below. The grass was drying, golden in the noontime light. When she reached the crest of the hill, she stopped, picked up a stick and threw it a short distance for Tommy, who bounded off and then brought it back, tail wagging.

From the crest of the hill they could see down the valley. Her cottage and their car lay below them; the hollow was cradled by spruces and pines and the ever-present poplars and birches that were rapidly losing their plumage. The nearly round leaves scattered everywhere, forming a golden carpet, while the air held the sharp tang of evergreen. “Is this okay?”

Luca put down the basket and reached inside for a blanket. “It’s perfect.”

She sat down on the blanket, throwing the stick for the dog again. “We won’t have many more days like this,” she murmured, feeling the sun warm her face. “I’m surprised it’s held on this long.”

“Then we must make the most of it.” He began unpacking the basket. “Tomato bocconcini and peppers, marinated lamb and minted potato salad, and I’m not telling you what’s for dessert because good girls eat their vegetables first.” He laid out real china and silverware along with their parcels and said, “If you’ll serve, Mari, I’ll pour the wine.”

For a few minutes they busied themselves with laying out the picnic. Mari sat with her legs crossed, arranging the meal on the plates. Already she could feel the stress of work ebbing away and filled with a newer, sweeter problem—the fact that she was, indeed, enjoying his company. She tilted her chin up to the sun, letting its warmth absorb into her sweater. She was glad to be here with him, sharing something as simple as a picnic on a fall day. But that was as far as it could go. She had to remember why she had come. To establish some sort of truce. Some sort of equilibrium between them. She wasn’t capable of anything more.

“Fresh air and good food does wonders for stress.” Luca’s voice came from beside her and she turned to look at him, squinting against the sun.

“This is one of those times I’m going to have to admit you’re right again.” She handed him his plate, smiling. “I didn’t realize how tense I was. I’ve been so focused on trying to get everything accomplished with the same number of hours in the day.”

Tommy had played himself out bounding through the grass, and collapsed in a contented heap a few feet away. “I haven’t been doing this with him enough lately. I need to or he’s going to get fat and lazy.”

“Everyone needs downtime like this. Outside, peace and quiet, something simple and restorative. It’s what I hope people find at the Cascade. A break from the…what’s the term…the rat race. Time to smell the roses. For some, this is a way of life.”

“For someone like you, you mean?”

He smiled and took a bite of bocconcini. “Someone like me?”

She gave him a significant look and he grinned. “Oh, you mean the idle rich.”

She took a drink of the mellow chardonnay, enjoying the light teasing between them. “I will concede that you are definitely not idle. You’ve proved that this last week.”

“You thought I was?”

She looked down over the valley. “Oh come on, the golden son of Fiori Resorts? I’ve read the magazines, you know. Life handed to you on a silver platter? Fancy cars and fast women…or is that fast cars and fancy women?” She couldn’t stop the teasing quiver of her mouth.

“Either way,” he admitted dryly.

“You’re incorrigible,” she giggled, leaning a little sideways and jostling his shoulder.

And sighed into her wine.

“Have I been pushing too hard, then?”

She eyed him carefully. Had he? He never looked tense or flustered or tired, but she knew for a fact that he was up and working by the time she arrived in the morning, and just last night when she had gone home late, he was still on his computer in his office.

“I don’t think you’ve been pushing anyone harder than yourself. But maybe the Cascade staff isn’t used to that pace.”

“Staff like you?”

She put off answering by nibbling on her potato salad. But his gaze remained on her face and she swallowed.

“I didn’t get where I am without putting in the hours,” she replied. She was tired. It was no secret. But part of the fatigue was due to the fact that things were changing and she was unsettled. She was under stresses he knew nothing about, nor would he. She was waking more in the night than she usually did. The nightmares had returned. She was looking over her shoulder. It meant she started most days already at an energy deficit.