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Authors: Gail Mencini

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BOOK: To Tuscany with Love
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A week after Phillip and Stillman’s “truce” began, Bella dragged herself uphill between Phillip and Hope.

They had crossed the River Arno that morning on a seemingly endless walking tour. After lunch, in spite of the increasing heat, Paolo had led them through the Boboli Gardens. Now they faced a long trek back across the river to their hotel, many blocks beyond the Duomo, the Cathedral of Florence. Bella and Hope didn’t have the energy to chat. It had been a long day in the sun.

Bella felt Phillip’s eyes on her. She knew her forehead was damp with perspiration and that her hair frizzed in tight curls around her face—not her best look, by a long shot. She sneaked a glance at him. How could he look so cheerful?

Suddenly, Phillip sprinted up the hill ahead of them. With a broad grin on his face, he flipped upside down into a handstand.

“Woo-hoo.” Hope clapped her hands.

Bella had to laugh. Phillip stayed there, upside down and grinning, until she and Hope stood in front of him.

“Bella,” Phillip said, “I’ll flip for the chance to hold your hand.” With that, he waggled his feet up and down to emphasize his words.

Bella giggled. Phillip could certainly make her laugh. She held out her hand. “I’d rather hold your hand than your foot, but it’s your choice.”

Rune clapped and said, “Good job, man.”

Phillip bent his arms and sprang lightly to his feet. He beamed, brushed his hands off on his jeans, and clutched Bella’s hand. With a hoot, he raised their clasped hands into the air in a victory salute. Their classmates, other than Stillman, cheered his success.

“I’ve never seen that approach,” Bella said to Phillip. Her legs had new energy as they continued up the stone street.

Leaning closer to her, he winked and said, “Oh, I have a lot more tricks up my sleeve.”

And he did. One day, he scaled the outside of a stone wall, finding handholds where none visibly existed; he later explained that he had learned bouldering and climbing skills during summer expeditions to Yosemite.

Bella wasn’t sure if he did these stunts to make her laugh or to highlight his athleticism. Either way, he succeeded.

Betting he was on more than one sports team in high school, she asked Phillip about it.

“Tennis was my best sport. State singles champion my senior year,” Phillip said. “But I played basketball and football, too. The thing I loved, though, was skiing, because I did that with my sister.”

“I didn’t know you had a sister. Older or younger?”

“Younger, but Anne died when I was in high school. She was the most determined athlete I’ve ever known. She pushed me, made me better.”

Phillip pulled his wallet out of his pocket and extracted a worn photo of him dressed for skiing. His skis were spread in a deep “wedge”, and he stood behind a grinning girl sitting on a low seat, which was mounted on skis. “She was disabled but loved sports—skiing, bicycling, and horse riding were her favorites. Before she got too big, I even took her hiking in a backpack. I miss her.” He kissed the picture and replaced it in his wallet.

Bella squeezed his hand. “What happened?”

“Medical complications. She had a lot of operations and was often sick, but she never complained.” He pressed his lips together in a tight smile. “She was always my cheerleader, my number one fan. It’s why I was so competitive—for Anne.”

He stopped walking and looked at Bella with a serious expression. “I don’t talk about Anne much, and I’d appreciate it if you don’t say anything to the rest of them. She was too special to be just another topic of discussion.” Phillip’s sincerity rang true.

“Of course.”

Phillip ended any further discussion of his sister by asking Bella about her own high school activities. Bella could easily picture a young Phillip doing handstands, or jumps, or climbing a wall to make his sister laugh and cheer.

Two days later, Phillip upped the ante. He ran down a flat section of street and flipped over once, twice, three times.

Bella ran to him and hugged him. But then, while her arms were still around him, she caught Phillip looking at Stillman with a smirk on his face.

Was Phillip vying for her attention because of her or because he wanted to beat Stillman? The possibility that she was merely a prize to be won irritated Bella.

Regardless of their motivations, this attention was something she’d never known—an active courtship by two boys at the same time. Her experience had been limited to boys pulling her hair when she was a child, then disgusting, sweaty middle school kisses, topped by forward high school and college boys trying to grope her on a first date. She’d had as many first dates as she could tolerate, but rarely did she grant anyone a second.

She waited for the inevitable late-night advance from Stillman or Phillip. When it came, she wasn’t prepared for it.

After two weeks of her ending the evening by walking and talking with the girls, Stillman and Phillip flanked her as she prepared to leave the restaurant. The guys looped their arms with hers and clutched her hands. Her mind raced. God help her, could they be imagining a threesome?

At her door, they stopped, released her arms, and stood in front of the door as if they were twin guards. Stillman looked confident, but she couldn’t read Phillip.

“We talked about it,” Stillman said, “and we came to a gentlemen’s agreement. You must choose between us.” He looked confident.

She was definitely attracted to them both—much more than merely
attracted
, if she was honest with herself. Choosing one would push away the other, and Bella wasn’t sure if she wanted that, not yet.

Bella was twenty years old and had to admit that her body ached with longing for tender kisses and much more. Being close to them, having them flirt with her, brought surges of warmth and tingling over her body, a feeling starkly different from her repulsion during those sweaty, groping sessions with boys in the past. Now, her body begged to be caressed.

But how could she choose?

6

 

L
ater that night, Bella asked Hope how she knew that Charlie, Hope’s steady boyfriend, was the one for her.

“During one of my high school summers,” Hope said, “I met Charlie while I waited tables at a big truck stop along the interstate. We’re both from Fort Collins, but I’d never met him before because he’s older. He was already a Marine and had just got home on leave. Man, did he look sharp in his camo gear.”

Hope bubbled with excitement. “We’d only met that night, yet he waited for me to end my shift. Charlie’s buddy had picked him up from the airport, to surprise his parents. His friend left, and I drove Charlie home.” Her cheeks flushed pink.

“So you liked him right away.” Bella sat cross-legged on her bed. “But when did you stop dating other boys?”

“After I met Charlie, I never dated anyone else.”

“But wasn’t he away for long stretches of time? What about the dances, like prom? You were still in high school.”

Hope looked down at her hands, and her voice got quiet. “I’m not pretty like you, Bella. Charlie is my one and only. I’ve never dated anyone else.”

Bella was shocked. Hope was the first one who figured out how to navigate Florence’s streets, the one who always came up with great ideas and plans for free time.

Hope was a natural leader, kind and honest. Maybe not what guys considered “cute,” but she was a nice-looking girl. Bella suspected Hope’s dress size and self-confidence were opposing forces. Charlie chose Hope, not the other way around.

Hope pressed one palm to her heart. “It’s here, Bella. I can’t say exactly when and how it happened, but I love Charlie and I’d do anything for him. And he loves me, so it’s perfect.”

Bella hoped her friend was right.

Maybe, Bella thought, she shouldn’t worry about deciding between Phillip and Stillman. If she didn’t choose now, it’d be fun to see what happened next.

 

 

Stillman stood with the rest of the sandal-clad group on the edge of Siena’s shell-shaped Campo. The guided walking tour of the walled city—the reason they had come to Siena—bored him as much as listening to the preacher’s broken-record sermons on the evils of sex outside of marriage. He couldn’t wait for his free afternoon. Stillman knew what he wanted from Siena, and it had nothing to do with the history of this place and everything to do with sex.

Crowds of local Italians strolled the Campo. White and green Oca flags draped their shoulders, emblazoned with their mascot, the crowned goose. The celebrations following Oca’s recent win in the Palio horse race continued in full, noisy force.

This morning, their guide had droned on about Siena’s seventeen
contrade
, similar to city wards, or districts, each revolving around economics, faith, and social structure. People who wanted to rent an apartment within the boundaries of a
contrada
had to swear loyalty to that district and even raise their children as strong supporters. The rivalries between these districts resembled that of the Hatfields and the McCoys, or any other Southern feud.

The Palio—the highlight of competition between Siena’s contrade—had run every year on July 2nd and August 16th since 1644, except for wartime suspensions. All day, drummers and costumed flag bearers had paraded through Siena, apparently to remind the losers of Oca’s prized victory. The annoying pounding of the drums grew louder, then fainter, as the marchers’ distance from the Campo changed.

The oppressive heat, trapped within the city’s stone walls, sent rivulets of sweat down Stillman’s back yet didn’t seem to faze the costumed Italians.

The marchers reminded Stillman of his hometown’s annual Fourth of July parade and picnic.

The parade featured contests for decorated floats and included the high school marching band. The band always seemed to follow the horses pulling wagons and surreys, which made marching an adventure, considering the inevitable horse manure littering the street. The town’s old money residents dressed up in Civil War uniforms and carried Confederate flags to honor the noble veterans of the War of Northern Aggression.

His hometown parade and these costumed marching drummers seemed equally irrelevant to Stillman.

“Enough already.” Rune wiped the sweat off his red face. “This reminds me of growing up in Nebraska and detasseling corn—ninety-four degrees and ninety-four percent humidity—and that’s something I definitely don’t want to think about. What I wouldn’t give for Venice Beach now. How ’bout we find some shade and a nice cool beer?”

Hope rubbed her hands together. “I say we walk the city. We’ll get exercise and keep our budgets intact.”

Meghan shook her head. “Not us.” She tilted her head to include her twin. “I saw too many leather stores in the back streets that had our names all over them.” She giggled.

Karen chirped her agreement. “Not to mention the hot clerk that practically kidnapped us as we walked by.” She looked at Bella. “You in?”

Bella shook her head. “No, thanks. I spotted a tiny shop on one of those narrow side streets,” she waved her arm to the Campo’s outer edge, “that had rad silk scarves. Thought I’d try to find it. I want something for my mom from Siena. She’d really love this place.” Bella’s eyes swept the Campo. Her lips pressed together, as if in determination, or maybe worry.

Stillman had tagged along with Bella all morning. He couldn’t figure her out. She alternated between being aloof and flirty. But man, was she hot. He didn’t make her out to be a tease. No, there was something deep about her. The mysterious part of her beneath that smokin’ hot surface intrigued him almost as much as the prospect of bedding her.

The way Stillman saw it, that flirty side of her threw down a challenge to him. He thrived on competition, and he’d be damned if Phillip won her this summer.

His motor was revved. He went for it. “I know exactly where that shop is. It’s next to a place with watercolor prints of the Palio.” Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Phillip’s scowl. “I’ll show you.”

Rune’s head pivoted to take in the Campo. “I’ll be here. It’s where the action is, isn’t it?” He nodded and muttered to himself. “God, I love these bitchin’ babes.”

Lee clapped Phillip on the back. “We seem to be the odd men out. Let’s go for a walk with Hope.”

BOOK: To Tuscany with Love
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