Chapter 27
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
GIOVANNI
Bianca and I stand there with Christopher the Mustache and tell him the story we’ve been sharing for the past week—how I was overwhelmed by the press attention and I came here for her. We reconnected, and I realized the sense of belonging I’d been searching for was here in Apple Ridge all along.
Yet something strange happens as I speak (in addition to all the people who pass by, whispering about us, snapping photos when they don’t think we’re paying attention). It begins to feel as we’ve made it true by repeating it enough times.
I have to admit I’m happy to be in Apple Ridge today. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else, certainly not back home, where I’ve always felt like the “extra” Cafiero, the one who coasts along in the wake of the others.
I like it here. I like that old-timer we met earlier, who wants me to join his workout group.
I like Theo and his trees and his long, probably meaningful silences.
I like cooking with the nonnas and listening to their bickering.
I like Emily and her book recommendations.
I even enjoyed visiting The Rotten Apple yesterday before everything went to shit.
But most of all, I like Bianca. She’s everything a person should be—strong and soft, kickass and kind—and to hear Mr. Mayor talk to her like he just did…
Why, I’d like to beat the man to a pulp, at the very least. I can’t, of course, but I’ll make him pay somehow. That can come later, though. Right now, all I care about is getting my girl to enjoy her afternoon.
I’ve got a plan for that, as soon as I get Christopher the Mustache settled in with the nonnas, who will no doubt talk his ear off about Apple Ridge, and possibly every major event in their lives for the past eighty or so years.
“Would you like to meet our nonnas?” I ask, my arm still wrapped around Bianca.
Christopher reaches for his comfort mustache. “I’ve heard about the apple fight, of course.”
I can’t help but grin. Of course he’s heard about the apple fight. Anyone who’s been in town for more than five minutes has probably heard about the apple fight, even after all these years.
“Don’t ask them what caused it,” I warn. “They’ve never told anyone. They still won’t. But knowing my nonna, it could be anything. She had a feud with the mayor back home because he said the sandwich my brother made him was too dry.”
Christopher runs his fingers over his mustache again. “So mayoral feuds run in your blood.”
I can feel Bianca suppressing a laugh. Resting my chin on the top of her head, I say, “My problems with Mr. Mayor are purely personal. He used to be engaged to my girlfriend.”
“A love triangle?” Christopher murmurs, pulling a little notebook and pen out of his pocket.
“There’s no love triangle,” Bianca says hotly. “Please don’t say that. I broke up with Rhett, and he’s still a little salty about it. But we’ve worked things out. It’s all settled to everyone’s satisfaction.”
She shoots a look at me, silently reminding me that we can’t go scorched earth with Mr. Mayor, however much we would both obviously enjoy it.
I lift my free hand, palm facing outward. “I’m a peaceful man.”
Christopher smiles at us. “Thank you for talking with me. I’d love to meet your grandmothers.”
We lead him over to the Evergreens & Apples table.
When we introduce Christopher to the nonnas and explain who he is, Nonna Francesca says, “And do you plan to publish a photo of my grandson without his shirt on?”
I smile at Christopher and pat him on the back. “Have fun, man. We’ll see you later, hopefully.”
“I have a few more questions I’d like to ask,” he says, looking a little panicked at the thought of being left alone with my nonna.
Understandable, but unless he asks her about apple fights or dry sandwiches, there’s every chance she’ll be calling him a “good boy” and offering him food within a few minutes.
“Later,” I agree with a nod.
Glancing at my nonna, I say, “Please be nice to Christopher, and tell him what he wants to know. He’s interested in learning more about Evergreens & Apples.”
I’m not sure how true that is, but that’s the story I’d like him to tell. That’s what will help the Murphys the most.
I wrap my arm around Bianca. “Let’s go see Emily.”
Her expression is unreadable as she nods, but I notice the way she leans against my side as we turn and walk away.
We reach Emily’s table. She’s wearing a “Smut Slut” hat too, which barely contains her dark red hair, and I dip the brim of my hat at her. She grins and tip the brim of her cap back at me.
“It’s like you two are in a secret club, and you’ve denied me membership,” Bianca says, bemused.
“I’d be honored to buy you a ‘Smut Slut’ hat, Bianca,” I say. “You only needed to ask. Emily, your best hat.”
Emily laughs and picks up the hat sitting at the top of the display. “I’d be delighted.”
“No way, I’m not going to wear that.” Bianca waves her hands in protest.
“Your whole life will be transformed.” I reach for the hat. “Trust me. The night I put this on, everything changed. I’m convinced these caps have magical powers.”
It’s no exaggeration. I put on this hat for the first time the night I kissed Bianca.
“Crap,” Emily says, grinning. “I should have been recording you for a promotional video.”
I shove my free hand into my pocket for my wallet.
Emily shakes her head. “Nope, it’s on the house. I’ve already sold two dozen of these today. I’m this close to convincing Mr. Campbell we should rebrand as a romance bookstore.”
She’s holding her thumb and forefinger less than a half inch apart, and Bianca reaches out and spreads her arms so one is above her head, the other below her waist. “More like this.”
“But it’s still progress,” Emily says, laughing.
“Put on your hat, Bianca.” I hand it to her, and she accepts the unwanted gift with an amused eye roll that feeds my spirit. “I want to be a couple who matches.”
“Only because it’s sunny,” she consents, unfastening her bun so she can put it on.
Once she’s got the hat on her head, she finishes by letting her inky hair spill out through the opening in the back.
I’d like to run my fingers over her ponytail, and since we’re supposed to be a loved-up couple, I do.
“Please take a photo of us in our matching hats, Emily,” I say. “I’m begging you. I’ll cherish it forever.”
Emily grins and does the honors, insisting on taking another on her phone so she can use it for the store’s social media accounts. I text the photo to my siblings, who know all about our fake relationship but aren’t up to date.
Before we can move on, Emily asks me about the parachute book.
“I’ve started it,” I confirm, stealing a brief glance at Bianca, who looks cute as hell in her hat. “Thank you for your concern. I guess I should be glad you work at a bookstore and not a pharmacy.”
Emily laughs. “You think I’d be giving out antidepressants? You know, that might be helpful too.”
“Let’s try the parachute book first. But when’s our first meeting for the smut book club? We need to prepare.”
Bianca steps on my foot, and I nearly burst out laughing. Instead, I wrap a hand around her hip. For a second, I worry I’ve gone too far, but before I can remove my hand, she layers hers over it, pressing it firmly in place.
“We both believe in being prepared,” I say, grinning in delight. “We’ll read every word to each other.” I shift my grin toward Bianca. “While we feed each other grapes.”
“They’d have to be apples,” Bianca responds. “It wouldn’t be in keeping with the Apple Ridge philosophy for them to be grapes.”
“Pumpkin pie would be seasonal too.” Emily’s comment is offhand, but the knowing look she’s giving us suggests she sees beyond the surface.
Then again, she’s Bianca’s best friend, and I’ve heard the way my little sister speaks with her friends. For all I know, Bianca has described what’s happened between us to Emily in detail, down to the length and width of my dick.
Not that I have anything to worry about.
“Well…Luanne chose the book last night. She says the president of your fan club helped.” Emily pokes a stack of books on the table.
The title is Yes, Chef.
“We’ll take two,” Bianca says, giving me a sidelong look. “Giovanni loves it when people say that to him.”
“Probably, but I don’t believe anyone has, other than my brother, in jest. We can practice that too.”
Bianca nudges me but doesn’t seem too unhappy about it.
This time I insist on paying Emily, and we leave her table with our books.
“Where are we going?” Bianca asks as we walk away. “Are we just escaping the reporter and Mr. Mayor, or do you have an agenda?”
“It brings me great joy to hear you call him Mr. Mayor, but yes, of course there’s an agenda.”
She brightens, beaming at me, and I don’t feel like I’m exaggerating when I say her smile is the most beautiful sight in the world.
“Are we going to sneak off and practice some smut?” she asks, her voice dripping with honey and nearly seductive enough to get me instantly hard.
“Later, Bianca. Definitely later. But right now, I thought we’d go shopping.” I tap my forehead. “I have a mental list. Our first stop is the vintage clothing store. I noticed they have a setup on the other side of the gates.”
“Um…you want to buy vintage clothing?”
“That’s step one. Then we’ll be hitting the wig stand.”
Her eyebrows hike up toward her hairline. “Are you going to pass yourself off as your own twin brother?” she asks. “Because that only works in the movies.”
I shake my head. “I have a special plan for the scarecrow contest, Bianca, though I’m sorry to say we probably won’t win.”
I can tell the moment she figures it out—
A mischievous spark fills her eyes beneath the brim of her pink hat. “You want to make a scarecrow version of Rhett.”
I lift a shoulder. “Don’t you?”
“It’s immature,” she points out.
“Absolutely.”
“We’ll only piss him off.”