Page 68

The man’s shirt was clinging to every muscle he had, and I could not help but find my husband in his face.

A model’s face. A perfect face, except he was as rugged as Mariano, which somehow tipped the scale when it came them being…

I was not sure how to exactly explain it.

Too gorgeous? None of them would walk a runway, but… they were made for it.

I lifted my hands, and the spray hit him again, making his shirt cling to him harder. Making an apologetic face, I said, “ Ooopsie . So sorry.”

The next thing I knew, turning-brown lettuce was being flung at us. Scarlett. She had a good arm.

Thinking back on it made me laugh quietly, and Mariano grinned, as if he knew what memory I was recalling.

What came after was a feeling that warmed me as much as the sip of whiskey had. Mia, lettuce still in her hair, Saverio attempting to pick it out, pulled me in for a hard hug. She told me I was the sister of her heart.

“You have done the almost impossible,” she whispered in Italian—right into my ear, making me shiver.

Her conviction was as strong as any of her brothers.

“You turned my brother from a racing man to a settled one. All that time…we thought he was out of control, but his heart had always been racing toward yours. You have done what Mamma did for Papà. You gave my brother a home— his home. He can breathe now. You heal him.”

We hugged, rocking back and forth, and after they had gone, Mariano wrapped me in his arms, kissing me all over the face, then picked me up and took me into our bedroom.

I had brought up the idea of telling them we were married.

I wanted them to know. He only shook his head, telling me the time for that would come, and then took my nipple in his mouth.

I did not remember much of a conversation after that.

Mariano clicked his tongue, bringing me out of my reflections.

The black stallion he had connected with turned its eyes up and looked at him.

The stallion was grazing, and every so often, he would walk around the mare he had claimed as his.

She was pure white, reminding me of a snowflake.

I sighed again, and this time, Mariano held me closer.

I still did not feel comfortable with horses.

I could still feel the shock of my body hitting the ground when the horse I was riding rejected me, then took a bite out of me.

Because apparently, I smell like apples, even when I am not trying to.

Mariano nibbled at me, and my shoulders came up to my ears. He laughed, breathy and raspy.

The grin on my face stuck as I recalled the day when Mariano had taken his Mamma out riding. She was as good as he was. She did not have any fear as she mounted the horse and took off, faster than Mariano had. He took off after her, and she laughed as he tried to catch up.

Mariano felt comfortable leaving me. His father was keeping me company. Brando Fausti was a quiet man with intense eyes. As we watched them ride off, I sighed. In one way, I felt as if I needed to say something to him, but in another, silence suited him, and perhaps I did not have to say anything.

“Perhaps…” I started, but I did not know what else to say.

His eyes slowly turned to mine. “Perhaps,” he said.

I resorted to Italian. “ Sì. Forse. ”

I did not expect it, but when it happened, I had to squeeze the railing of the fence so I would not collapse. My knees went weak.

Brando Fausti had grinned at me.

It was not a sight I saw often from him.

His daughter and sons smiled much easier than he did.

Each time, it was as if the sun had broken through the clouds after an eternal darkness.

When Brando Fausti even grinned, it was as if the sun had broken through the darkness after a terrible storm that felt eternal.

My breath caught.

His eyes swung to mine. “You all right?”

“ Sì .” I breathed. Realizing what a force his children were. A famous ballerina as their mother. This man as their father. I cleared my throat. “You do not like horses?”

“I don’t mind them,” he said. “I just don’t care for their teeth.”

This took me off guard. I exploded with laughter, and his thick eyebrows shot up. It was such a Mariano face. I told him so.

He grinned at me again.

Two! I was winning at life that day.

“I feel the same!” I said, almost out of breath. I pulled my shirt down some and showed him the scar on my shoulder. “They are big. Huge, in fact.” I showed him my teeth, about to say a hundred times bigger than mine, and then automatically stopped when I realized how ridiculous I looked.

It was like the time Mariano and I had sex in front of a mirror and I told him how ugly the faces I made were.

He got insulted. How dare I insinuate that any part of his heart was ugly!

He took me again, and the entire time he made love to me, he pointed out how beautiful I was.

I would only speak words that reflected that.

I had to remind myself to clear my head of these thoughts. I had started to get hot, and I fanned myself with Mariano’s—my—flannel.

“They are so good,” I said, apropos of nothing, meaning how Scarlett and Mariano were on horses. My voice sounded lame to my own ears. Brando Fausti might not have been Luca Fausti, but he might as well have been.

Brando nodded, somehow understanding the drunken path my conversation skills were taking.

“My wife is part Scottish. Her father’s family has property there.

She loves it. My son inherited that from her.

Add that to my father teaching my sons how to ride war horses and sword fight, and it stirred something romantic in my son. ”

“A little of you and a little of her makes Mariano Leone Fausti,” I breathed out.

He nodded slowly, then turned around to find his wife. My husband was looking for me. I had given him a little wave. He narrowed his eyes at me underneath his cowboy hat.

“We both do not enjoy things with teeth bigger than ours…” I allowed this thought to linger as my husband turned his horse around and went after his mamma again. “Would you like to tend to the baby animals with me?”

Brando Fausti’s mouth quirked up before he exploded with laughter. He turned and started walking toward the barn that held the baby animals. He stopped and waited for me, and I took this as a sign he was enjoying my company.

“Stop thinking about my old man,” Mariano said, taking a deeper drink of the whiskey. He pulled my head against his and shared it with me again.

It burned on the way down, and I knew for the rest of my life, no matter where I was, what I was doing, if the smell of the alcohol passed underneath my nose, or something burned me similarly, I would be brought back to my husband’s mouth and how sweet and spicy his tongue was.

Magic.

“I was thinking of you and your mamma on the horses,” I said. “I would…like to ride with you that way someday.”

So far, I had only ridden with him. He was able to swoop me up and sit me behind him. It was a harrowing experience, at first, but if the horse’s teeth were far away from my flesh, all was right, and it was exhilarating racing with him.

Clinging to him for dear life.

Baby steps , I reminded myself.

He did not say anything. Only nodded, his eyes serious.

I had given my husband a partial truth. Brando Fausti had been wrapped up in the memory.

How he had helped me clean the barn. How he would use his pointer knuckle to bop the noses of some of the animals.

How Rocky, the fiercest kid in the baby barn, had hit him in the culo when he bent down to pick up the shovel I had dropped, and I could not stop laughing.

Brando had made a noise. A noise that sounded like a cross between ung and hoa .

“This is why…” I had started laughing again, holding my stomach. I waved a hand. “I am sorry! This is why they call him Rocky!” I rushed out, exploding again.

Scarlett and Mariano had entered the barn not long after, and Mariano gave his father a narrow look before he took me in his arms and brought me so close to his body, it was as if he was trying to set me in his bloodstream.

I laughed even harder.

Not at him, or the way he loved me. It was the way he was mad that I was laughing at what happened with his father, and that he was not the man causing it. Scarlett started laughing too, and together, we played with the animals while the men took care of the baby crap.

Even above Luca and Brando, I was a bit overwhelmed with the thought of Scarlett Fausti.

Not only was she a ballet legend and Brando Fausti’s wife, but…

she was Mariano’s mamma. Italian mammas were protective over their sons, especially.

Instantly, however, we seemed connected through him, not at war over him.

She seemed able to let go, without letting go, if that made any sense.

It did to me. She loved all her children. This was so clear to feel and see…

Her eyes…

Her eyes unnerved me a bit.

At times I caught her looking at me, and it was as if she could see clear through me, if she wished to.

It seemed as if she only went as far as her instincts instructed her to so she would not miss a thing.

Although I was not as “feeling” as Scarlett and my sister-in-law, I had a feeling Scarlett was waiting to talk to me alone once it was announced that her son and I were married.

If there was a reason we were not acknowledging our… it… to the world, she would wait until we did before she spoke to me alone.

She was beautiful and special—of this, I was sure.

Hannah was drawn to her from the moment the two of them met.

They spent hours in Hannah’s garden. Hannah even invited Scarlett to her private area in the yard to see her paintings and baskets.

I had a feeling Zia Bianca was a bit jealous. I was as well.