Chapter 12
The wide sky and stunning beach lulled Toni into a false sense of security the following morning as she followed Gabri onto the horseshoe of bright sand stretching along the bay in Procchio, fifteen minutes’ drive from Marciana Marina.
The turquoise water lapped gently at the shore; white umbrellas fluttered in the breeze.
The air was lighter, fresher than the day before in the cove.
He was five steps ahead of her, a surfboard under his arm and the rolled-up sail attached to some poles in his other hand. There were already a handful of windsurfers out on the bay, clinging to their sails as they zipped over the water.
It wasn’t until she was tugging her hired wetsuit carefully over the waterproof plaster on her leg that she began to wonder if this plan to keep busy might blow up in her face – as everything seemed to this trip.
Gabri was now shirtless, holding the sail in the wind, his hair in his face, and she couldn’t help thinking he could be a pin-up for windsurfing – and his island home.
He cooked, he arranged flowers, he looked good all wet and muscular, his hair curling over his ears.
The tendons in his arms stood out as he attached the mast to the board and the smile he shot her was bright and made her knees wobbly.
But he was also everything she was not: a free spirit, releasing his worries and responsibilities into the wind.
‘Come here!’ He flapped his fingers against his palm. ‘Take a hold of the foil, just to feel what it’s like.’
He hefted the light frame with both hands.
She had to step close to take it from him and that unease shivered over her skin again.
He was too close, his body warm and present behind her.
Her hands wrapped around the mast, her brain mush, and when he let go, she wasn’t prepared, nearly toppling over as the sail pulled wildly away from her.
‘Uffa!’
She felt the exclamation on the back of her neck as his arm curled around her stomach, halting her fall.
‘Sorry,’ she mumbled, winded. ‘I have it now. I didn’t think this thing was so heavy.’
‘It’s not,’ he said with a smile in his voice, easing away slowly, as though he didn’t quite trust that she was stable now. ‘It’s the wind.’
‘What wind?’
Barely a ripple interrupted the mirrored surface of the sea in the bay.
‘This is the Isola d’Elba. There is always wind. The maestrale blows today.’
‘The what?’
‘Shh, just feel it on your face.’
She didn’t particularly want to indulge her feelings right now, but she lifted her nose, surprised by the lightest whisper against her cheeks as she held still. ‘It’s cool,’ she commented. ‘And soft.’
His grin made her wonder what she’d said to elicit such a reaction.
‘That’s the maestrale,’ he declared. ‘The northwest wind. The winds are like neighbours here. When it blows from the south-east, the air is heavy and hot. The west wind can be like a storm on the coast. Today, we have a very gentle maestrale – perfect for learning to windsurf.’
‘I’ve lived on the coast my entire life and I’ve never really thought about the direction of the wind – just the strength of it.’
‘Do people windsurf in Weymouth?’
She nodded. ‘All year round.’
‘You’ll have to join them after I’ve taught you.’
After her first experience holding the sail, she didn’t share his confidence.
‘You always want the foil to be downwind of you,’ he began, taking the strap from her.
‘If you hold it upwind—’ Before he could even finish his sentence, she witnessed the consequences of holding the sail the wrong way.
It flipped around in an instant and caught both of them, knocking her right into him.
Her hands fell to his chest as she struggled for balance and his arm came around her again to steady her as he wrestled with the sail.
‘This wind is a bad neighbour,’ she said through gritted teeth as she drew away, her cheeks hot. The wind was a bloody matchmaker, except there was no match to be made here.
‘Sometimes,’ he agreed with a chuckle. ‘Bossy, anyway. You can’t fight the wind. You have to work with it.’
She made the mistake of looking at him, finding a disturbing glint in his eye – of dismay and also something else. Something she feared was mirrored in her own eyes. ‘Right, let’s get out on the water.’
It was more than the maestrale lightening Gabri’s mood.
Ever since he’d gone to bed last night, her brittle tone echoing in his head, his chest had felt tight, itchy with the need to alleviate… something for her.
He hadn’t told her the full story, but she understood well enough. He’d escaped his old life in a way she could only do temporarily. He’d left it all behind as only a man could. But she was still smiling at him today. So accepting, even though he probably didn’t deserve it.
As he helped her push the board – now with the foil attached – into the shallows, he tried not to let his attention linger on her face, but there was so much to find in her features. She had such a determined jaw, wry, expressive lips and wary eyes.
Today, her eyes were brighter, her jaw extra determined.
He let the foil float on the water and grasped her shoulders, showing her the right place to stand by the board. Perhaps he could have achieved the same result with words, but the touch felt necessary nonetheless.
‘One knee up, then the other.’ He prompted her with a pat on the board. ‘Feet sideways, as wide as your shoulders.’
The board wobbled as she clambered up. His board wasn’t the best for beginners. It wasn’t anything too advanced either, but he regretted not hiring her a nice, wide one when he felt the tremor in her body, transferring to the board.
‘Whoa!’ Her hands landed on his shoulders and the board shifted as she struggled to find her centre of gravity. A moment later, she crashed into the water, belly first. ‘Shit,’ she said through gritted teeth. ‘You didn’t mention this would cost me my dignity.’
‘I thought that was a very dignified dive.’
‘You shouldn’t lie, Gabri,’ she replied, swiping water off her forehead. ‘I can see right through you.’
He tried again. ‘Allora, you look cute when your face is squeezed up like this.’
‘Cute?’ The dubious expression was even cuter. ‘I’m thirty-nine years old.’
‘Pretty?’ he tried. ‘You said I shouldn’t lie.’
‘You shouldn’t compliment me either. If I’d been a man, would you have said that?’
‘I probably wouldn’t say “pretty”, but I would tell a friend he’s looking good.’ He just wouldn’t feel quite so tied up in knots when he said it. ‘When was the last time someone said you looked pretty?’
Taking up her position by the board for her next attempt, she eyeballed him and leaned closer – close enough to tighten those knots. ‘Oh, you meant “pity”.’
‘I did not,’ he replied gently.
‘When was the last time you taught a woman how to windsurf?’
He coloured and she clucked her tongue before she even waited for his answer.
‘Don’t worry,’ she said with a smile in her voice, hauling herself up onto the board and wobbling on her knees. ‘I’m glad you’ve had lots of experience.’
She managed to get up that time, still throwing out a hand to his shoulder once.
‘I think you overestimate my experience,’ he muttered.
‘It’s more than I have, so tell me what I need to do next.’
He peered up at her, unsure whether they were talking about windsurfing or relationships and dangerously curious. ‘First, feel the wind,’ he called up to her, where the sunshine bathed her face.
‘I’m not stable here. I need a little more than “feel the wind”, Mr Orzati.’
‘It’s important,’ he replied. ‘Where’s the wind?’
‘On the back of my neck.’
‘Bene, that means you can lift the sail. You always want the mast facing into the wind, not the boom, not the back edge. Keep your feet like that, knees bent, back straight, and pull up the foil.’
She groped for the uphaul strap and yanked it – too hard – sending herself bum-first into the water, flipping the foil. This time, she went under, coming up again with her face even more scrunched up and her hair plastered everywhere.
His hands made their way to her face of their own accord, smoothing her hair. ‘There.’
She released a deep breath that whispered along his face. He had taught a woman to windsurf on a date before – a tourist from the mainland. She’d even invited him to see her again and they’d ended up in bed together before she left.
But there was so much more here, teaching Toni. More to screw up because they were supposed to be friends, although he wasn’t sure what to do with the friendship now.
‘You don’t have to flirt to restore my dignity,’ she said drily.
‘I didn’t think I was flirting.’
‘Now you know.’
Her teasing smile made him want to brush her hair behind her ear again, linger with his fingertips on her jaw – make her take those shaky breaths again.
‘If you say I look pretty now, I’ll never believe a word you say.’
You do… With her hands on her hips, chin up and a wry smile on her lips, she was pretty enough to make him wonder if he was the one who’d just lost his balance.
‘Then I just won’t tell you.’
He stepped back and grasped the mast to flip the foil back to the downwind side of the board.
‘Did you just wink at me?’
With his hands out to protest his innocence, he said, ‘Maybe,’ and turned away again before she could catch his smile.