Chapter 17
COLE
I still had her room key.
Standing at Juliette’s bedroom door with that knowledge—one that had followed me into sleep and pulled me out of it more than once—I still never considered using it.
Wanting her was one thing. Violating her trust was another I’d never cross.
But the thought of her in bed as I slipped into the room, Juliette seeing me.
Pushing down the covers. Giving me permission to ravage her.
And ravage her I would. Nearly had in that damn stairwell.
Get it under control, Cole.
I knocked.
Waiting for Juliette to open the door felt like the longest minute of my life. She opened it, but there was no censure in her expression. Just the same smile, after a quick assessment of me, as I’d been getting since “new Cole,” as she put it, returned.
Determined to keep “old Cole” from making an appearance, the armor Parker accused me of wearing locked firmly in my bedroom closet, I smiled back.
“I have a surprise for you. Do you have a bathing suit?”
The idea had come to me on my run earlier this morning.
And while the thought of Juliette in a bathing suit nearly had me, dick in hand, taking a second shower, I wouldn’t let my attraction to her ruin these next two days.
We’d agreed I would come for her, grab breakfast, and then work out a plan for the day.
But I had one already.
“I do. Funny you should ask,” she said, still in the doorway of her room. “I was going to see what you thought of hitting one of those beach lidos in town today.”
“Grab it now,” I said.
“I wondered why you were wearing that.”
By “that” she meant a bathing suit and T-shirt in lieu of my usual attire.
Instead of following her into the room, I waited at the door, holding it open. One didn’t play with fire unless they were willing to get burned.
“You can come in,” she called, rummaging through her luggage.
I didn’t move. Juliette didn’t seem to notice. From her luggage, she disappeared into the bathroom and then back to the luggage again. She flitted through the room like a butterfly. Breezy, colorful and more beautiful than anything around her.
“Okay.” She came back to the door. “I have my suit, a coverup, SPF, lip SPF… Do I need anything else?”
I had to ask. “Lip SPF?”
“They burn easily.”
Of course. Her lips were so full, I assumed she had filler. “Are they real?” I asked, even knowing it wasn’t PC to ask.
“My lips?” She stepped outside. The door closed behind her.
“Yep. One hundred percent. They’re my favorite feature, actually. I remember being in middle school,” she said as we made our way out of the hotel, “and hating everything about myself. My body. My face. My hair. But even then, I liked my lips.”
There was a hell of a lot I could say to that, but after last night’s loss of control, it wasn’t a good idea.
“You look so different.”
I tripped on a cobblestone and regained my balance.
“This seemed more appropriate,” I said, letting Juliette think we were going to the beach.
“Wait.” She stopped. “We usually eat breakfast here.”
“I had a different idea for today.”
“Okay.” Juliette continued to follow me.
No questions asked. No qualms about not having the day’s plan.
I wasn’t surprised in the least. Nor was I surprised when we headed along the coastline, past the restaurant where I’d first spotted her sitting along the sea, drinking wine, the day I arrived, toward Porti di Monterosso, that Jules’s eyes widened with each step.
“No way,” she said when it was clear nothing was in front of us but the docks. “Are you kidding me?”
Her expression was worth every penny. When I asked the woman at our hotel for the options, this was the most exorbitant. But also the only one I seriously considered.
When I committed to something, I was all in.
“Buongiorno,” the ship’s captain said as we approached. “Il Signor e la Signorina Ford?” he presumed.
“No,” I responded, his greeting not sounding as absurd as it should, for someone who had convinced his four friends to go along with a bachelor pact—though they’d dropped the ball big time. “Il Signor Ford e la Signorina Porter.”
“Molto bene. Sei Americano?”
“Yes,” I said. “We are both American. And excited to spend the day on your boat.”
“So, I am Marco, your captain for the day. And this beauty,” he said, gesturing to the beautiful wood-bottomed boat, “is a classic Ligurian gozzo—smooth ride, nice shade, good for pictures… and very good for couples. We’ll head toward Vernazza first, stop for a swim, then continue along the cliffs to Manarola.
I usually stay up front and let romantics enjoy the back of the boat. You call if you need me.”
I swallowed hard, ignoring his assumptions about us being a couple. For her part, Juliette seemed unfazed by his speech. So much for worrying about her reaction to last night. For all it appeared, she’d completely forgotten about the entire incident.
“Come. Come,” he said, ushering us onto the boat. “Signorina, if you’d like to change, there’s a small cabin just inside. Take your time.”
As Juliette disappeared into the cabin, Marco prepared the boat.
“There is fresh focaccia from Il Massimo, some fruit, and cappuccino,” he said, settling me into a seat at the stern of the boat. A table was set with the food he’d described. “I’ll take us out a bit, and then you can eat while the sea is calm.”
If Marco said anything more, I wouldn’t have been able to recall his words if my tenure depended on it.
Juliette had emerged from the cabin in a white bikini with a white, gauzy long-sleeved shirt/cover up, rolled to her elbows.
You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.
Curves in all the right places. The swell of her breasts more inviting than a boatload of fresh fruit and cappuccino. And I loved cappuccino in Italy.
I turned away, pretending to look out to sea as we pulled out.
This had been one of the stupidest fucking ideas I’d ever had in my life.
Morning sun glistened off the mostly calm water as I thought back a few hours ago to when I’d spied a sole boat in the water on my run, remembering Juliette’s words that first day.
It seems like the ultimate dream. Sailing on the Mediterranean. Although that’s technically the Ligurian Sea, of course.
She was as clever as she was joyful.
I turned to her, thanking whatever God was listening that two buttons on her shirt were now closed as she sat. Even so, it was going to be a long day.
“I tried to charter a sailboat,” I told her. “But this was the best I could do on short notice.”
“Are you kidding me? Cole, this is perfect. But I’m totally paying you back.”
I didn’t respond, because she wasn’t and would only argue with me.
“Marco said we should eat now, while the sea is calm.” We’d already anchored off. Before long, most of the focaccia and fruit, along with every drop of cappuccino, was gone.
We were off again, the table cleared and put away by Marco like he’d done it a million times, which I was sure he had.
Surrounded by turquoise water, the cliffs of the Vernazza coastline floating by, we traded superlatives about the other-worldly view.
“Have you heard from Parker yet today?”
I’d mostly kept my phone out of view, something I was in the habit of doing anyway, but since Juliette didn’t have hers, keeping it out seemed especially rude.
“I have. He and Delaney were planning on a visit to Pitti Palace today. Not sure what else is on their agenda, but it seems like they’re loving Florence.”
“Good. They deserve it.”
We talked about how she and Delaney met. How I met each of the guys. And then she mentioned the pact.
“I thought it was a joke at first.”
“Not even a little,” I said. “We all had our reasons for it. And maybe I always knew it wouldn’t stick. But I certainly didn’t think they’d fall like fucking dominoes, one right after the other.”
“Is it weird, now that they’ve all paired off?”
More than she knew. More than I would admit aloud.
“I guess. But it was inevitable, despite our pact to stay bachelors.”
“Why did you make it?”
She looked at me so sincerely, it would have been “old Cole” to brush the question off.
“My parents should have divorced fifteen years ago. Instead, they stay married, making themselves, and each other, miserable.”
“And you and your sister, too, I bet.”
Delaney must have told her I had a sister. We never talked about my family, for good reason. I looked off into the distance. The sea both calming and terrifying, now that the shore was so far off.
“Cole?”
The question in her voice was one I couldn’t answer. When she put her hand on my leg, the touch sent a jolt screaming through my body, landing in my chest. I looked at her.
Opened my mouth to speak.
“Here we are,” Marco boomed.
Juliette pulled her hand away as the ship captain started talking.
“Canneto Cove. More private than Vernazza Cove where most boats go.” He waved his hand toward the shore. “We’re halfway between Corniglia and Manarola, a beautiful spot. No?”
“Gorgeous.” Juliette stood as Marco continued.
“Swim as long as you like, sì? Sit on the ponte di poppa.” He gestured toward the swim platform on the back of the boat. “Or on the rocks if you want,” he said, nodding toward the narrow shore. “I stay here and read”—he tapped the captain’s chair—“and you tell me when we go.”
And he did exactly that, his chair turned in the opposite direction. The guy must have read a lot of books.
“What’d you think?” Juliette looked around, clearly enthralled by the swimming cove. The place was a postcard.
“I think”—I took off my loafers—“we swim.”
Trying to mentally prepare myself as I lifted my tee above my head, I decided to rip off the band-aid and drink her in. But I was still not prepared for the full “Juliette in a white bikini without a cover up.”
“Dear lord,” I said, before thinking better of it. “You were made for that swimsuit.”
She cocked her head to the side. “Is that a compliment, Professor Ford?”
Wouldn’t I love to teach her a thing or two.
“Damn right it is. Take the point. Take two.”
She laughed, climbing down to the platform.
I loved how comfortable she was in her own skin.
I didn’t hesitate to join her. Diving into the Ligurian Sea and coming up for air, I watched as she sat and dipped her toes in.
Apparently satisfied the temperature was to her liking, she stood, held her nose (adorable) and jumped.
She swam over to me, treading water.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I said, Juliette knowing exactly what I was talking about even though she’d deny it.
“I don’t know what you mean.” Her voice was all flirt and no apology.
“Uh huh.” I nodded to the shore. “Race?” I’d go easy on her. Or maybe I wouldn’t have to. In an instant, she took off in a perfect breaststroke. One executed by someone who had clearly done some competitive swimming. I beat her, but not by much and I’d been going all out.
“She’s full of surprises,” I said as we swam to the rocks. Climbing atop the flattest one, I stood behind her, just in case she slipped.
Squeezing out her hair, Juliette tossed it back and forth, leaned back on her hands to drew in a deep breath. “Heaven.”
Not quite. Watching her, an unfamiliar and fucking terrifying knot in my chest said otherwise.
Maybe heaven, or more likely, my own personal hell.