Racing the Sun(25)

There’s a knock at the door, and as I say “Come in,” I expect to see Felisa telling me she’s about to pick up the kids from school. Instead, the door opens and I see Derio poke his head in.

I immediately get to my feet, feeling like the president has just walked into the room.

“Am I disturbing you?” he asks. He still hasn’t come in.

I shake my head, smoothing down the front of my yellow maxi dress. “No. Not at all. I was just planning the lesson.”

He nods and then comes in. He walks right over to me, hands behind his back, mouthing whatever I have written on the board. I get a whiff of his scent, musk and sage and lemons. I try not to inhale too deeply.

“So this is where you teach them?” he asks, eyeing his surroundings.

“Uh, so far,” I say, quickly tucking my hair behind my ears, but being the unruly beast it is, my hair springs forward. “I’m working it out as I go.”

“How about teaching them outside, in the sunshine?”

I bite my lip. I considered that. “Perhaps. I just wanted to establish a routine first.”

“Very good,” he says, his eyes sliding to mine. They’re so dark and intense that I feel very small and exposed next to him. I’ve gone from never seeing him to having him extremely close. It’s jarring. I’m not sure I like being jarred.

“And how has your first week been to you?” he asks, his voice lower now.

I’m a horrible liar. “It was okay.”

“Just okay?” he asks, sounding a bit amused.

I shrug. “Alfonso is better at throwing pencils than he is at using them. I’m afraid of what will happen if I let him use his iPad.”

“But you believe writing by hand is important?”

“It’s easier for me,” I tell him, honestly. “I guess I’m kind of going by how I’ve been taught.”

A rare smile glimmers across his lips. “But you are barely more than a child yourself.”

I want to laugh. I throw my hands out to the sides. “I told you, I’m twenty-four. Just turned it last month.” I pause. “And you’re only twenty-nine. You’re not even thirty yet. We’re practically the same age.”

“But you look very young,” he says.

“It’s the hair,” I explain.

It looks like he wants to reach out and touch it—his hand moves slightly—but he doesn’t. “Yes. And your face. It’s a very innocent face for someone with such wild hair.”

I’m not sure what to say to that at first. I feel like he’s paying me a compliment, which is a rare thing. I want to clutch his words to my chest and hug them and never let go. But then my mouth opens and I say, “I only look innocent, believe me.”

He takes that ballsy comment in stride and moves away from me toward the door. “I’ve been quite busy this week. I wanted to apologize for that,” he says. He pauses and looks at me over his shoulder. “I thought perhaps it might be nice to do something different for the last day of the week.”

“Like what?”

“Can you swim?” he asks. “Do you like to?”

I would have thought that would be an extremely loaded question coming from him but he says it casually. “Uh, yes I can swim. And I love to. I haven’t since I’ve been in Italy, though.”

“No?” he asks, brows raised. “We will have to change that, then. Sometimes I take the twins to the beach. I haven’t done that for a while now. I was thinking we could go now and pick them up from school. Give Felisa a night off. Does that interest you?”

I nod. Hell yes it interests me. No teaching and an evening at the beach? Count me in.

“There aren’t many beaches on Capri, and they are not like the ones you have in America. I have an aunt who lives in Florida and it is not the same at all. Very rough stones here. But the water is warm and so clear you can see the bottom without goggles. The beach I take them to is by the lighthouse, Punta Carena. It is the only beach that has sun all day, until it sets.”

“How do we get there?” I briefly imagine riding on the back of his motorcycle, my hands wrapped around his chest. Maybe we can stick the kids in a sidecar.

“I’ll call a taxi to meet us by the Piazzetta and I’ll call the beach as well. You must reserve a spot ahead of time.”

What kind of a crazy-ass beach is this? I nod anyway. “Okay, let me just throw together a little bag.” I follow him out into the hall and while he goes to make his call I pop in to my room next door and start packing a tote with a towel, bathing suit, sunblock, hat, and my Kindle.

Ten minutes later we’re saying goodbye to Felisa, who looks tired but relieved, and I follow Derio up the path through the lemon trees and through the gate to the road.