Chapter 4
Allegra
GREAT. NO SIGNAL, no shade, dead car, and I’m going to pee my pants any second.
I walked around my stalled rental and searched for cell service along the narrow shoulder of the road, holding my phone to the sky as I went. Nothing. Not even a single bar.
A patch of olive trees on the other side of the highway caught my eye.
If I was going to have to put my thumb out for a ride or ask a fellow traveler for help, I probably shouldn’t be wearing urine-stained white pants.
So I scanned for traffic coming from the left, then right.
Finding the road empty as far as I could see in both directions, I ran across and ducked into trees, muttering to myself as I went.
“I cannot believe I’m doing this. I haven’t gone to the bathroom outside since my parents forced me to go camping when I was seven, and I wound up with a tick on my ass. ”
This had been the trip from hell already, and I hadn’t even gotten to my final destination. Sort of went with my last few weeks.
Just as I crouched down to empty my bladder, the quiet of the Italian countryside was interrupted.
Bzzz. Bzzz. At first, I thought it was a bee, but as the noise grew louder, I realized it was one of those scooters that were so popular around here.
Shit. Shit! I was still relieving myself when it idled to a soft putt-putt next to my car parked across the street.
I leaned over to hide my head behind an olive tree, but the skinny trunk wasn’t wide enough to conceal me.
The man swung his leg over his Vespa, hit the kickstand with his boot, and pulled off his helmet.
Meanwhile, I rushed frantically to pull up my underwear and pants while also trying not to move around and draw attention to myself.
I must’ve done a really crappy job because the guy looked around for a half second before his gaze locked on me.
This day can’t get much worse.
I stood, dusted myself off, and tried to pull off a casual wave as I walked out of the olive trees. “Oh, hi!”
Even from across the street, I could see the man’s brows draw down.
He said nothing as I looked both ways and crossed the road to my broken-down car.
Of course, because this month was one disaster after the next, the guy had to be stupid good-looking, too.
Tall with broad shoulders, dark hair, and a tan complexion that made his light blue eyes pop.
God forbid an ugly man catch me peeing in public this afternoon.
I thumbed over my shoulder when I reached him. “I was, umm, taking a picture of the olive farm. It’s, uh, really beautiful.”
He raised a brow like he knew exactly what I’d been doing. “Americana?”
“Oh. Yes. I’m sorry. Do you only speak Italian?” I shook my head. “That was a pretty dumb question, huh? Obviously if you only speak Italian, you’re not going to understand me asking you if you only speak Italian.”
The man stared at me like I had two heads. “I speak Inglese.”
“Oh. Great… I think.”
He pointed to the olive trees across the road that I was hoping he’d forgotten about. “Do you use private land as toilets in America?”
I felt my already-pink face heat red. “What was I supposed to do? My car broke down. I’ve been driving for an hour and a half, and there was no rest stop!”
The man gestured up ahead. “There’s a caffé just over a kilometer away.”
I threw my hands up in the air. “And how was I supposed to know that?”
He turned and pointed to a sign probably only twenty feet ahead. It was blue and white and had a fork and knife on it.
I shut my eyes. “I’m having a really bad month.”
When I opened them, I found a slight curve at the corner of the hot guy’s very full lips.
“I’m glad you’re enjoying my humiliation,” I said.
His hidden smirk bloomed to a smile and turned out to be the best view I’d had all day. And that was saying something since I’d landed in Rome and spent the last ninety minutes driving through beautiful Tuscany.
“What is wrong with your car?”
“I think I might’ve run out of gas, though I’m not sure how that’s possible since I just picked up the rental, and they usually give it to you with a full tank.”
He lifted his chin to the little Fiat. “You have anything to put da petrol in?”
“Not unless you want to pour it into a two-thousand-dollar designer bag and watch me cry.”
His lip twitched before he turned to his Vespa, grabbed his helmet from the handlebars, and swung a leg over. The guy looked like a model in an advertisement for those scooters. “I come back with da petrol,” he said.
“What are you going to put it in?”
“No worries, eh. I figure it out.” He pulled his helmet over his head and started the Vespa.
Before I could even say thank you or offer him money for the gas, the guy drove off.
Ten minutes later, I was actually taking pictures of the olive grove when the Bzzz Bzzz returned. It was a damn good thing the guy driving the scooter was nice enough to help because not a single car had come through while I’d been waiting for him to get back.
He took his helmet off as I crossed back to my car.
“Mature olive trees, they only get watered once, maybe twice a week.”
“Ha-ha. I was actually taking a picture this time. I forgot how beautiful it is around here.”
His eyes flickered up my body and met my gaze. “Yes. It is.”
Alrighty then.
He climbed off the scooter and walked to the back of the car. I followed and watched as he unscrewed the cap and stuck the nozzle in.
“Where did you get the container?”
“Enzo.”
“Oh.” I shrugged. “That explains it.”
His lips curved to reveal that glorious smile once again, and he gestured down the road. “Enzo, he owns the petrol station at the next exit. He let me borrow it.”
“Ah. Well, it’s good to know there’s a station close by so I can fill up.”
He nodded and focused on pouring the gas into my car. When he was done, he set the container on the ground. “See if it starts.”
“Okay!” I got in and turned the ignition. To my utter delight, the engine rumbled to life. Well, it was a Fiat, so maybe it coughed back to life. I climbed out smiling. “Thank you so much!”
He nodded. “No problem.”
I reached back into the car for my purse and took out my wallet. “How much do I owe you for the gas? And for your time?”
He waved me off. “Nothing.”
“Oh no. I need to at least reimburse you for the gas.”
“Just drop de container back to Enzo when you get the petrol at the next exit.” He wagged a finger at me. “And don’t water no more of the olive trees, yes?”
“All right.” I smiled. “Thank you so much.”
He caught my eyes, and for a few seconds I thought he was going to say something else.
Maybe it was the romantic feel of Tuscany all around me, or maybe I was delirious after a long day of traveling, but I thought that something might be, “Have a glass of wine or a caffé with me.” But then he simply waved. “Ciao.”
It was ridiculous, I know, but I felt a bit deflated. Yet I waved back and smiled again as he got back on his scooter. “Grazie. Ciao!”
The odd feeling didn’t go away as the stranger drove off, and I stood beside the car, watching the Vespa go down the road until it was no longer in sight.
After, I folded into my car, buckled up, and shifted the engine into drive.
As I drove off, I couldn’t stop wondering why it felt like something important had just happened.