Page 11 of At His Wife’s Behest

C onnor was up with the sun, which was absolutely not his usual MO.

He was habitually late to work, no matter how much he wanted to get there on time.

After traveling, his sleep schedule was screwed.

He hated to think what it would be like when he returned home but he could deal with that when it came.

He intended to fully enjoy Italy and live in the moment.

Upon arriving downstairs, he scented coffee and groaned with joy. Fully expecting Kellan, he found Ana Maria puttering around the kitchen. A small tray of pastry sat on the island, as well as a bowl of cut fruit. She caught him sneaking a pastry and smiled. “Buongiorno.”

“Buongiorno,” he repeated before taking a bite. He groaned again, the pastry melting over his tongue.

Ana Maria chuckled.

“Caffé,” she said, pointing to an ancient looking set of brass pots stacked one upon the other. “Cena,” she paused shaking her head. “Supper is in fridge.”

“Grazie,” he murmured.

“Prego,” she replied, drying her hands in her apron. She waved. “I come back tomorrow. Ciao.”

“Ciao.”

Connor poured himself a cup and snagged a bit of fruit to go along with the rest of his pastry. Before he was done, Kellan appeared.

“You’ve been busy.”

“Not me,” Connor replied. “Ana Maria is a saint.”

“Ahh, I didn’t know she would be coming again,” Kellan said, eyeing the display.

Connor took his plate and cup to the table they’d used the night before. “She left dinner in the fridge, too.”

“A saint, indeed.” Kellan bypassed the island and poured himself a cup of coffee. He took a seat at the table across from Connor, his gaze drifting outside.

“Not hungry?”

“I rarely eat breakfast.” He seemed distant, unlike the night before. Had the kiss crossed a line?

“Most important meal of the day,” Connor murmured above the rim of his cup.

Kellan sighed. “You’re as bad as Abby, though I think you’re to blame for that.”

“As bad as Abby? I take offense to that, mostly because your daughter is a damned delight.”

Kellan half-smiled over the rim of his cup. He placed it back on the table and sized Connor up. “Are you just saying that because you’re spending the week in my family’s Italian villa?”

“I think we both know I’m not. Abby is one of my best students. She’s competent. She’s kind. Shows compassion.” Connor smiled. “I think I know where she gets all that from.”

Satisfaction spread over Kellan’s face—yet there still seemed to be a sense of distance.

He bit off another bit of pastry, inwardly moaning at how good it was. “You’re really going to let Ana Maria’s hard work go to waste?”

Connor grinned, watching Kellan reluctantly get up and fill his own small plate. “I did a little research for the museum. I don’t know if you drove in or not—or if we’d need to call for a taxi? How’s your Italian?”

Kellan returned to the table. “I know a bit of Spanish, which I know isn’t all that helpful—but a lot of the words are similar. Between that and Google translate, I might be able to make my way through.”

“That should do it.” Connor took another bite of his pastry, noting Kellan had yet to touch his food. “Eat.”

“I’m not very hungry,” Kellan murmured, his expression tired.

“Did you not sleep well?”

Kellan shrugged. “Well enough, I suppose.”

“Something wrong?”

“No.” Kellan spat. He grabbed the pastry and tore off a piece, dipping it in his coffee before popping it into his mouth.

“Was it something I said?” Or something I did?

Kellan met his gaze, face blank. “I said nothing was wrong.”

“Okay, fine,” Connor lifted his palms in surrender. “Be a grump if you want.”

“I’m not a grump,” Kellan snapped.

“Okay then,” Connor whispered. Maybe he’s not a morning person. No, I’ve seen him many a morning dropping Abby off, and he’s never appeared cranky. It’s me… it has to be me.

Kellan drained his coffee and rose to pour another. They finished their breakfast in an uncomfortable silence until Kellan reached for his phone and dialed a number.

“Buongiorno,” Kellan said. “Un taxi?”

After prattling off the address for the villa, Kellan eyed him. “I think they said twenty minutes. Trenta is twenty, right?”

“Going by Starbucks cup sizes,” Connor said. “It’s thirty.”

“Right!” Kellan said, chuckling. “Venti is twenty.”

The chill to the air warmed with that chuckle.

“If you need to collect anything before we leave, I suggest you do it now.”

“I’m good to go,” Connor said.

Kellan met his stare. He moved a bit closer, looking as if he wanted to say something.

Connor stiffened again, sensing whatever Kellan wanted to share required his full attention. A pregnant pause hung between them. A glimmer sparkled in Kellan’s eyes…

And then it was gone as fast as Connor witnessed it. Kellan turned away, leaving Connor to wonder what had been left unsaid.

“I suppose I should put this stuff away before we go.”

Connor helped store the fruit and the pastries, moving silently at Kellan’s side. He didn’t want to cause another bad mood by speaking out of turn, so he kept quiet. Not long after they’d cleaned up, a buzzer sounded.

“What’s that?”

“The gate,” Kellan answered. “Time to go.”

Kellan’s knee brushed against Connor’s as they traveled in the backseat of the tiny Fiat taxi.

His companion took up more than half the space, forcing their bodies in close contact.

While he attempted to keep his distance, every scrape of the leg, lean into a turn, and bump from a rough bit of road slammed him against the man.

He wanted to be free to touch Connor, without the voices in his head telling him he shouldn’t.

“I don’t bite,” Connor said midway there.

“What?”

“You don’t have to twist yourself into knots in an attempt to avoid touching me.”

“I wasn’t…”

The look in Connor’s eyes said he knew that was a lie.

Kellan sighed, relaxed his body, and allowed his thigh to touch Connor’s. From that tiny connection, sparks tingled. He turned to look out the window at the passing scenery to prevent Connor from seeing the smile growing on his lips.

They arrived at the ferry dock in the nick of time.

Kellan purchased two tickets, and they raced to board, the gate closing behind them.

He and Connor leaned against the deck railing, surveying the landscape.

The sun was warm as it cast its glow, the sky a brilliant blue.

He inhaled, the clean, fresh air filling his lungs.

Dozens of small villages and towns dotted Lake Como, some ancient-looking.

Kellan’s gaze didn’t know where to land as there was so much to see.

Yet even with all to see, his eyes drifted to Connor over and over again.

Hair blowing in the wind, the sun shining down on them, his companion was more handsome than ever before.

Perhaps that due to the kiss from the night before talking, but somehow, he saw the man differently after it. He hadn’t known how to act when he’d come downstairs, a mixture of awkwardness and shame had come out wrong.

A grump. He called me a grump.

“I’m sorry about this morning,” he said, his voice low.

Connor leaned a little closer, smiling. “For?”

“Being a grump this morning.”

“But you weren’t being grumpy. Remember?”

Connor’s smile took his breath away. Kellan broke the stare he’d been arrested in and scanned the villages again, face warming. A few seconds later, he noticed Connor’s hand sliding on the railing. It stopped next to his, their pinkies touching.

Growing up in the public eye, Kellan had been well-schooled on how to compose himself when there were lots of eyes around.

So well-schooled that his first instinct was to pull his hand away, fear of being caught too close to another man.

He’d broken those rules a few times… and each time it had come back to bite him in the ass, getting progressively worse with each transgression.

He stared at their hands, forcing himself to keep still and enjoy the moment. It’s barely touching. Let it go. When he lifted his gaze, he saw Connor staring at him with a hint of a smile. He couldn’t help but return it.

They arrived in Varenna in no time, thanks to the ferry, and were deposited not far from the Villa Monastero.

As they approached, a riot of lush greenery and bright flowers drew them closer.

Kellan shaded his eyes as he surveyed the gardens stretched out before them.

They resembled the ones at Emma’s villa, but larger.

Grander. The villa behind it was larger and grander, too—which was saying a lot.

“Let’s get our tickets,” Connor said, taking Kellan’s elbow and leading him forward.

He opened his mouth to argue, but shut his lips, letting it slide. Connor’s hand was on him again, and it was innocent enough. Right? Fighting a smile, he entered the short queue beside Connor.

“Due,” Connor said as he approached the window, holding two fingers up. He forked over the euro before Kellan could reach for his wallet. “Grazie.”

Connor spun and offered Kellan a ticket.

“You should’ve let me pay.”

“Why? I suggested this place.”

“You’re here as my companion. You shouldn’t need to pay for anything.”

Connor scoffed. “I’m not going to bicker over who picks up the check.” He scanned a brochure he’d apparently picked up at the window. “Hopefully that Spanish of yours comes in handy for this.” He shoved it toward Kellan, map side first.

“I’ll do my best.”

Kellan followed the signs to the entrance.

Connor walked slowly through the garden, slowing progress.

He didn’t rush, surveying everything, pausing to sniff a flower here or there.

Reaching for his phone, he snapped a few photos.

His head swung in Kellan’s direction. “Do you see this? It’s gorgeous.

Not sure what kind of flower it is. I need to research it later. ”

“You like flowers, hmm?”

“Is that a problem?” Connor replied, cocking his head to the side.

Kellan snorted.

“What was that for?” Connor asked as he sidled up beside him.