Lara and Matteo arrived at their next stop on the cheese trail and were shown to their cabin by an ancient, unspeaking man who shuffled across the clearing to open the door for them, then shuffled away again, leaving Matteo and Lara in the deep silence of their surrounds.
Their cabin shared the clearing with an enormous store of firewood, the same height and width as the cabin, both buildings with sloped roofs. They were nestled at the base of a steep rise in the mountain: a platform above many other cleared platforms all the way up and down this range. No key was necessary for the door. They dropped their bags, admired the rustic beams, flagstone flooring and open fireplace, then both glanced at each other.
‘There is only one bed,’ Matteo said. ‘I am so sorry. I didn’t realise. I will sleep on the floor, of course.’
‘No, don’t be silly. I’ll sleep on the floor. I’ll sleep over by the fireplace.’ Lara tried to sound cheerful and as though she really meant it, though the idea was terribly unappealing.
‘No.’ Matteo held up his hand. ‘Absolutely not; I will sleep on the floor.’
Lara bent down to look for a rollaway mattress beneath the sagging queen-sized bedstead in front of her, but only discovered dust. She opened the doors of a wobbly wardrobe, but there were just clothes hangers and extra blankets.
‘Maybe we could see if there is another room inside the house,’ she said feebly.
‘It is no big deal,’ Matteo said gently. ‘Goat handler here, remember? The barn floor is my friend.’
Lara placed her hands on either side of her face. There was no need to panic, she told herself. They were travellers, on an adventure. This sort of thing happened when you were travelling. She was no stranger to a night with no sleep; she should just count on staying up, maybe snoozing a little on the couch, being useful by tending the fire.
Matteo walked across to her, his strong farmer’s frame bulked up by his coat, his deep brown eyes terribly seductive. He put a hand on her shoulder and a spark of energy bolted to her chest so that she almost jumped under his touch.
‘Lara, trust me. It is no big deal.’
‘Okay,’ she said quietly. She was grateful, of course, but she was also starting to feel fractious with Matteo, and couldn’t put her finger on why. She smiled it away. ‘Let’s go for a walk.’
They put on their sturdy shoes and slipped out into the crystal-cool air, heading for the slope behind the cabin, wanting to find a view from up high, like eagles. They hiked in silence, taking their time, nowhere else to be, and Lara’s irritated mood evaporated.
They climbed through soft brown leaf litter high up in the hills behind the farmhouse and their accommodation hut, dappled sunlight fell through the pines, and ferns cast magical rainbows at every turn. The only sounds were those of birds taking flight from the grasses around them, the breeze shifting through the treetops high above, and the rhythmic fall of an axe far below them in the valley as it chopped through even more wood to add to the huge winter store. The steepness of the track tested Lara’s heart rate.
She stopped, put her hands on her hips and puffed. Matteo, his legs far more used to this kind of exertion than hers, turned and smiled. ‘Should we rest here?’ he asked.
‘I…think…I’ll…have…to,’ she puffed. ‘Woo! This hill is steep.’ Her calves pinched with burgeoning cramps.
A new sound entered the air then, the loud, tinny clangs of cowbells from the hidden animals meandering through the trees.
Matteo sauntered back down the hill and she was pleased to see that even if he wasn’t as breathless as she was, his face was at least beaded with sweat. As if reading her mind, he wiped his forearm across his brow. They stood side by side gazing out at the view.
‘Spectacular,’ she said, struggling to believe that something so stunning could be real and that she was actually here.
‘It is bellissimo,’ he agreed.
They stood together in peaceful silence, drinking in the view. This was something Lara wanted to be able to see in her mind again and again after she…
Went home.
The thought fell hard, just like the axe.
Something odd had happened. Right now, she could say with certainty that she didn’t want to go home. Where had that come from? It wasn’t as if she was never going home to Australia. Of course she would; her family was there.
It was just that the further she travelled with Matteo into the Italian countryside, the more she felt strong and…and…
Joyful. Truly joyful—the kind that came with assured peace.
She peeked at Matteo’s profile and his thoughtful gaze on the magnificent view spread out around them like a living map. Her eyes fell to the fullness of his lips. As if sensing her attention, he turned to face her.
She had no idea what he thought of her, and realised that was where her earlier irritation had come from. She wanted him to touch her. She wanted him to hold her in his arms and run his fingers through her hair. She wanted to feel those lips on hers, feel his heart beating against hers, feel his fingertips on her skin.
But she feared that in telling him the truth about her past she’d ruined any chance of him feeling the same way. How must she now appear to him?
The panicky swirl had started again, a whirlpool of fears and insecurities. She had to do something to stop it.
Instinctively, she reached out and took Matteo’s hand in hers, linking her fingers with his, the touch of his roughened skin halting her spiral and landing her right back here in this moment on the mountain, where nothing else mattered.
He pulled gently on her hand, drawing her to him.
Her feet inched their way forwards. Then she made them halt, digging them deeper into the soft leaf litter. Her chest felt as though it might explode, but she had to ask, before he kissed her. She had to know.
‘Why don’t you blow on your coffee to cool it down?’ she asked.
Matteo’s shoulders rose, startled. ‘Perdono?’
‘Your coffee.’ She could hear her voice shaking. ‘You hold it to your face to check the temperature.’
‘Sì.’ A corner of his mouth drew upwards and he shook his head ever so slightly, confused.
‘Why don’t you just blow on it?’
He studied her a minute, thrown by her questions. ‘The coffee is sensitive, yes?’
‘Um, I don’t know—I guess so, sort of.’
‘Most people blow…fff ffff,’ he mimicked, ‘…to force it to cool down, but I respect the coffee. It will be ready when it’s ready.’ He shrugged. ‘I am happy to wait; it will be all the sweeter.’
Lara stared at him, blinking fast against a wave of delicious tears.
‘Oh my God, I love you,’ she murmured.
Matteo leaned towards her. ‘What did you say?’
‘Nothing. Kiss me,’ she said. ‘Please,’ she added.
His lips met hers and she felt the solidness of him pressed against her, the full length of his body against hers.
If she’d been carrying wings on her back up that mountain, they would have opened right at that moment, stretching, ready to soar.