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“It’s hard for me not to touch you.” He kissed her again, and she rested her hands on his sides. It was a soft gentle pressing of their lips and a sweet exchange of their passion. The breeze rustled the leaves of the trees and swirled through the tall grass. She lifted her arms and reached her hands around his neck to kiss him more passionately. She lost all sense of time and space before he broke away. Together they walked along the road, to the gate. Giovanni let go of her hand once they arrived. Tall grass and weeds were tangled around the rusted links of the fence. He slipped a key into a large lock, opened it, and then pulled the chain loose. He yanked the gate open. “After you fair lady,” he smiled.

“Why, thank you,” she said.

She had to trudge through some of the grass and felt tiny pricks and stings on her bare legs. Giovanni insisted she wear another wrap around dress. She only had three in her luggage, and this one was of fine grape purple silk that clung to her legs and hips. She chose a pair of flat open toe thong sandals to wear with it, and now she regretted this choice. Once he led her from the grass to make the climb up the slanting dusty cobblestone laid road, she wished she had worn sneakers instead.

“Careful, Bella,” Giovanni pulled her under his arm, helping her move over the rocks, smiling at her struggles. “Do you like Chianti?” he asked

“I’m not really into cabernets. I called it a merlot, but it’s really a cabernet, right?”

“Right. So you prefer merlots from Napa?”

Mira shrugged. “I guess. I’ve drunk so much wine since I’ve arrived it’s a mix for me.”

“Well, it’s okay because Chianti doesn’t stand well on its own. With the right meal, it’s the red wine of lovers. Not an expensive wine compared to some I’m sure you’ve had, but its taste lingers along the palate and arouses your senses in sensual ways you will come to appreciate,” he said kissing her forehead, draping his arm around her shoulder to keep her close. Mira glanced over to the violet colored blossoms on the vines.

“Those flowers are beautiful.”

Giovanni nodded. “When they bloom, swollen grapes the size of coins drop down.”

Letting go of his waist, she walked over to the vine and pulled a full bloom. Biting into the round tiny fruit, she frowned. His laughter boomed in the air. Her mouth was filled with a sour burning flavor that must be the same as the taste of battery acid.

“Bitter is it?” he asked.

“Extremely!”

“It takes time to mature; the longer it’s allowed to ripen the sweeter and higher the alcohol content.”

Mira put her hand behind her back and dropped the grape innocently.

“I saw that,” he chuckled

“It was nasty.” She kissed his lips. “Mmm, now this tastes better.”

Giovanni laughed, pulling her in his arms “Let me taste, again,” he slipped his tongue inside her mouth. Wrapping her arms around him, she kissed him back, feeling his hand go down her back, cupping her below.

“Il mio ragazzo! Il mio ragazzo!”A short man who looked to be covered in wrinkles from head to toe yelled out to them. He wore blue jean overalls over a short sleeve white t-shirt and a cap pulled down low, shading his face. Giovanni let go of the kiss. “Here comes my uncle Rocco. He’s a bit of a flirt. Be careful how close you stand to him.”

Mira watched a peculiar bowlegged older man with a wide grin rushing toward them. He flashed her a toothless grin. His face deeply wrinkled, his hair thinning and grey. She guessed his age around seventy, at the very least.

“Giovanni!” he shouted. He pulled Giovanni down into a hug, giving him kisses to his cheeks.

“Rocco! Where are your teeth this morning? Did you not get the call we would be visiting?”

Rocco laughed. His gaze volleyed over to her and snagged. “Chi è questa belladonna?”

“Speak English, old man. She’s American. Her name is Mira.”

Rocco took Mira’s hand and kissed it. Rubbing his gnarled fingers over her soft skin, smiling he said, “Welcome toVigna di Battaglia.”

“Grazie.”Mira smiled and the old man embraced her. Once they parted she was almost certain his hand brushed her backside.

“Rocco, she’s with me,” Giovanni pulled her back to him.

Rocco nodded. “I still got it Gio,” he boasted.

“Well, keep it away from my girlfriendcapisci?”

Girlfriend? Did he just call me his girlfriend?Mira slipped her arm around Giovanni smiling. Her hand hit his gun, and she flinched, pulling away. He looked at her confused, but Rocco immediately interrupted. “Come, come, Carlotta will be so pleased.”