‘Cazzo! Pardon. Now we must employ more staff. And this is all thanks to you and your sister.’
Elena smiled and leaned towards him, planting a gentle kiss on his cheek.
He held her gaze – just for a moment. Those sad, liquid brown eyes. The breeze was blowing through her black, silky hair… He cleared his throat, feeling that she had somehow read his mind. ‘Looks like the forecast was right,’ he said, looking up at the gathering clouds. ‘Let’s make a move before the heavens open. I’ll drop you both off at your hotel.’
‘Thank you, Jamie. But before we leave, I’d like just a couple more pictures of the two of you on the pitch. Please.’
Jamie leapt down the steps two at a time, grabbed the ball off Stefano and performed some nifty footwork, then booted it downfield as Stefano leapt in the air and saved it from going in the net.
‘Brilliant defence!’ cried Jamie, high-fiving him.
‘I got some great action shots,’ yelled Elena, flicking through her phone.
‘If I give you my number, would you mind WhatsApping me some copies?’
‘Of course.’
All at once a deafening clap of thunder shook the sky, followed by heavy raindrops drumming the metal seats.
Jamie stood up and waved to Stefano. ‘Come on, Ronaldo! Time to go!’
As they made their way to the Hilton, Elena quietly hummed to herself in the back seat of the car, the swishing back and forth of the windscreen wipers soothingly hypnotic, snippets of Stefano and Jamie’s man-to-man conversation – half-Italian, half-English – drifting round her ears. Warmth flooded through her. Jamie had to be the coolest teacher at his school. He had a way of bringing Stefano out of his shell without trying too hard. He was relaxed around him, talked up to him, not down, could discuss dinosaurs,sport, war and Harry Potter. And as for that bionic leg, in Stefano’s eyes that made him even more of a real-life action hero.
‘Here we are,’ Jamie said, pulling up outside the hotel and opening the passenger doors. ‘Thanks for a great afternoon.’
As he shook Stefano’s hand, the boy wrapped his arms around his waist. ‘Can you stay?Pleeease.’
Jamie ruffled his hair. ‘I wish I could, laddie, but I need to change out of these muddy shorts and have a shower. But if you have no plans tomorrow, how about we go fishing?’
Stefano beamed. ‘Mamma?’
‘That’s so kind of you, Jamie, but…’
‘You have other plans?’
‘No, but we’ve taken up enough of your time already.’
‘But it’s your last day. The weather forecast is supposed to be good. I’d like to show you some more of our beautiful country – if you’ll allow me.’
‘Mamma, please say yes.’
Elena looked from one to the other and smiled. ‘Thank you, Jamie. But only if you will agree to be our dinner guest tomorrow evening. Alfonso would love to spend some time with you too.’
Jamie gave a little bow. ‘I’d be delighted. I’ll pick you up tomorrow around eleven.’
Lucy flung open the shutters. Sunlight danced around the kitchen to the spine-tingling tones of Andrea Bocelli, accompanied by the gurgling of the coffee pot and Harry scoffing noisily at his food bowl.
She was in a particularly good mood, despite not having had much sleep.
She felt the colour rising to her cheeks whenever she thought about last night.
It was only a kiss, but she couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt like this.
She told herself not to get carried away and only hoped there would be no awkwardness between her and Dario when he came to pick her up from the teashop that evening, after his shift.
But it wasn’t only the possibility of romance that had injected an extra dose ofla dolce vitainto Lucy’s day; judging by the flurry of joyful Instagram photos over the last couple of days, it was clear that business hadn’t been the only thing on the menu in Glasgow, and that Elena had fallen under Scotland’s spell.
A spark of hope had entered Lucy’s heart that morning when she noticed Elena’s latest post: a photo of a grinning, soaked-to-the-skin mother and son, posing in front of the bronze statue of some football player. The comment read:
