One Summer in Italy: The most uplifting summer romance you need to read in 2018 - Sue Moorcroft

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should tell her that Levi understood the meaning of the word ‘no’ and could hear it with good grace. She felt uncomfortably guilty of jumping to conclusions.

      ‘I’ll leave you to your painting then,’ she said, having not the least idea of how to explain her thoughts and feelings to him without making herself look more of an idiot than he probably already thought her.

      He smiled politely. ‘It would be nice to get the last of the light.’

      She smothered a sigh, hyper-aware that she was still missing the wild one-night stand from her single woman’s CV. And Levi was so big and firm and golden … but out of bounds, even if she hadn’t killed any interest from him stone dead. Turning away, she headed for the stairs at the side of the terrace resolving to visit a couple of bars down in the town tonight where some of the thirty-something locals hung out. Maybe her English/Montelibertà accent would seem exotic to them and she could have a bit of an adventure with a Stefano or a Marco or a Tonio.

      Once she’d let herself into her room she threw off her uniform and stood under the shower for several minutes, letting the cool water wash away her discomfiture along with the heat of the day. When she got out, she promised herself, she’d wriggle into the tight red dress she’d bought from Autograph last autumn because it was reduced. She’d be daring with her makeup, creating smoky eyes and a kissable mouth. She’d stuff thirty euros in her smallest bag and take herself off down into the town. Other women did it. Maybe by midnight she’d have gone home with the greatest talent she could find.

      Ignoring the facts that she was having trouble imagining herself behaving that way, particularly when she was on breakfast shift on the terrace tomorrow, she stepped out of the shower and dried herself before stepping into her prettiest underwear.

      But before she could start her makeup she heard a tentative knock on her door. ‘Sofia? Are you there? I’ve got the creeps.’

      ‘Amy?’ Covering up with a thin robe, she opened the door. ‘Are you OK? What’s creeping you out?’

      Amy hugged herself, smiling sheepishly as she stepped into Sofia’s room. ‘I’m going to sound pathetic but I keep thinking someone’s tapping on the fly screen on my window.’

      Sofia, imagining being eighteen years old, away from home for the first time and building up fearsome scenarios in her mind, replied bracingly. ‘I bet it’s that damned climber that grows like a Triffid all along this so-called staff garden. Shall we grab scissors from the kitchen and hack it back? Then it won’t be able to reach your window.’

      Amy’s expression relaxed. ‘Do you think that’s all it is? I feel stupid now. You weren’t going out tonight, were you?’ she asked belatedly, gazing at Sofia’s red dress on its hanger.

      Sofia’s hand passed over the red dress in favour of a T-shirt and a pair of shorts. ‘Not tonight. I’ve got to be up for the breakfast service tomorrow,’ she said, blithely abandoning her plans. It wasn’t much of a hardship when her heart hadn’t been in them in the first place.

       Chapter Seven

      On Friday, Levi enjoyed a leisurely lunch in Il Giardino. Amy took his order for cold beer and a small portion of pasta, giving him a friendly grin. ‘Having a good day?’

      ‘Great,’ Levi answered. ‘I plan to paint in the garden this afternoon.’

      ‘Enjoy!’ And she whisked off, ripping his order from her pad, looking much more confident about her job than when Levi had first met her. Davide was on duty too but Amy seemed to have taken to ignoring him as much as working together allowed, which seemed an excellent tactic.

      Levi enjoyed a second beer then vacated his table to allow a young Italian couple to sit down. He went into the hotel to collect his painting kit and then down the many flights of stairs necessary to reach the garden. The sun was blazing when he settled down, the valley spread out before him. Soon he was absorbed in trying to capture the delicate arc of lavender stems in the foreground of the painting he was working on.

      A couple of hours drifted by, until his phone rang. ‘I’ve got something to tell you,’ Wes said as soon as Levi had laid his brush down to answer the call.

      ‘Oh?’ Holding his phone to his ear with his left hand he picked up his thinnest brush, mixed up the palest grey he could imagine and touched it down one side of a stem, instantly creating light and depth. He cocked his head to one side to admire the effect. ‘What?’

      ‘It’s something about Octavia.’ Wes sounded as if he was trying to be casual.

      Levi’s brush froze in midair. ‘Oh, shit. What?’ He hadn’t even checked the website today. Had she screwed it up?

      ‘It’s nothing bad,’ said Wes stiffly, obviously not appreciating the ‘Oh, shit!’ part of Levi’s response. ‘It’s nothing I’m obliged to tell you, but I thought I ought to in the interests of transparency and because we’re friends.’

      ‘Right.’ Levi breathed slightly more easily. ‘Sorry, mate, I didn’t mean to leap to the conclusion that it was negative. What is it you want to share?’

      Silence.

      ‘Wes?’

      Wes sounded defensive. ‘I thought it would be a good idea to tell you that Octavia and I are a thing.’

      ‘Oh!’ All attention now on his conversation, Levi spun the simple sentence around in his mind in an effort to make sense of it. He wanted to snort, ‘What? In a couple of days?’ But Wes was being weird. Octavia was odd and maybe Wes was catching it. ‘Thanks for telling me. How long’s this been brewing up?’

      ‘Not long,’ Wes answered. After a pause he added, ‘I’m sorry if I’m stepping on your toes.’

      Levi almost dropped the phone. ‘Stepping on my toes?’

      Wes cleared his throat. ‘Octavia explained you’d been on a date and had been texting.’

      ‘But I told you it wasn’t a date. Or only in her mind—’

      ‘I phoned to congratulate her about taking on Dick’s pages. She said could we meet to talk about it and suggested dinner. We really hit it off but, as I say, I’m sorry if I’ve trodden on your toes.’ Wes hummed and hawed before adding in a rush, ‘It sort of turned into dinner and breakfast. And I know what you’re going to say,’ he hurried on before an astounded Levi could react. ‘I know it’s not like me. I’m more of your cautious type so far as women are concerned. It just sort of happened. And, it was the night of my life, to be honest. The only fly in the ointment was that this morning Octavia did this big sighing thing and said she hoped you wouldn’t be hurt. Her version of what happened between you isn’t quite the same as yours.’

      He paused as if to let Levi speak, but he was so astonished at this development that he couldn’t find the words.

      ‘Anyway,’ Wes went on. ‘I’m saying sorry if I need to say sorry, because Octavia insisted that I should clear the air with you. But, as the saying goes, “we just couldn’t help ourselves.”’

      ‘Right,’ said Levi blankly, watching a fat bee hover indecisively between two lavender heads then sink down to land on the largest. If he could have chosen someone for Wes to take on as a freelance and then jump into bed with, Octavia would have been at the far end of a very long queue. ‘You’ve taken me by surprise,’ he admitted, because he felt he had to say something and What are you THINKING?, however heartfelt, seemed inappropriate. ‘But my feelings aren’t hurt. Are you sure—’

      ‘Phew!’ Wes laughed. ‘I’ll be sure to tell Octavia. How’s everything going out there? Have you achieved your goal yet?’

      Levi gave up. Wes and Octavia were adults and if Wes was as happy as he sounded he probably wouldn’t appreciate Levi pointing out that Octavia was

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