Sure, I may flirt some, but I would never try to steal a woman away from another man.”
“Good to know,” Natalie murmured. She set her head on Marco’s shoulder and the rest of the ride to the restaurant was spent in companionable silence.
As promised, the meal was fabulous and Natalie had a great time listening to Marco and the owner babble back and forth in Italian. The owner’s wife, who was the main chef, kept bringing them little bites of this or that, long after Natalie was stuffed to the brim. It seemed rude to refuse, though, so she just kept eating.
“If you keep accepting they’ll keep bringing more,” Marco told her when the man finally left the table.
“How do you refuse?”
“Let me.”
When the woman came back the next time, Marco launched into a long discourse in Italian, and even if Natalie couldn’t understand a word he was saying, she knew he was laying it on thick by the way the woman flushed and stammered, then leaned in to pat the side of his face and kiss each cheek, which he returned. He took care of the check quickly and they got into the cab the owner had called for him.
It was late when they left the restaurant, and Marco tucked her into him and told her to relax. Between the wine and the food and how long the day had been, Natalie was asleep in seconds. Marco roused her when they arrived at the hotel, and the two of them trudged up to the room and took care of essentials before climbing into bed.
“I want to make love to you, but you look exhausted. Sleep, and I will ravage you in the morning.”
Natalie smiled lazily, her head already sinking into the luxurious, fluffy pillow. “Okay.”
Marco chuckled. “Good night, amante .”
Chapter Five
Marco’s mood soared the next morning after making good on his promise to ravish Natalie, but the day went downhill from there. Despite looking everywhere, and knowing he had it last night, his riding glove was gone. Disappeared. He had to borrow Paolo’s, and as any bull rider knew, working without your own equipment was always the start of something bad. Bull riders were a notoriously superstitious lot.
The bull he’d drawn could be described as ornery at best and Marco knew his buck-off record was high. Despite that, he needed to ride the bull for the full eight seconds and hope for some bonus points along the way if he was going to finish respectably and not drop too far in the overall rankings.
When it came time to get on the bull’s back, Marco pulled Paolo’s glove on and tried to ignore the feeling of dread stealing over him, leaving him shivering and nervous. One of his favorite parts of bull riding was the adrenaline rush right before, during and after a ride. Tonight, though, the adrenaline was pressing down on his lungs and throat, choking him.
Marco sat on the beast as it flung its head from side to side in the chute, its horns making a racket as they hit the wooden and metal bars on the sides. Saliva and other things Marco preferred not to think about were also flying around the chute as the bull snorted and kicked.
Paolo was near Marco’s side, helping him with the bull rope while Conner and Garret worked from the bull’s head and foot to move him into the proper position.
“Are you sure you want to ride this guy?” Paolo asked, casting a worried glance at the flying hooves and the massive, vibrating body of the bull.
“I drafted him.”
“I know, but—”
“I’ll be fine.” Marco had a sudden urge to scan the crowd for Natalie, but forced himself to keep his focus squarely on the one-ton-plus animal that was already doing its best to throw Marco into next week.
Garret nodded at Marco. “Ready?”
“Ready,” Marco answered, nodding back, and after another nod at the tour official, the gate of the chute swung open and Marco and the bull went careening out. All four of the bull’s hooves left the ground and Marco swore the thing was going to take flight until all that weight came crashing
“Good to know,” Natalie murmured. She set her head on Marco’s shoulder and the rest of the ride to the restaurant was spent in companionable silence.
As promised, the meal was fabulous and Natalie had a great time listening to Marco and the owner babble back and forth in Italian. The owner’s wife, who was the main chef, kept bringing them little bites of this or that, long after Natalie was stuffed to the brim. It seemed rude to refuse, though, so she just kept eating.
“If you keep accepting they’ll keep bringing more,” Marco told her when the man finally left the table.
“How do you refuse?”
“Let me.”
When the woman came back the next time, Marco launched into a long discourse in Italian, and even if Natalie couldn’t understand a word he was saying, she knew he was laying it on thick by the way the woman flushed and stammered, then leaned in to pat the side of his face and kiss each cheek, which he returned. He took care of the check quickly and they got into the cab the owner had called for him.
It was late when they left the restaurant, and Marco tucked her into him and told her to relax. Between the wine and the food and how long the day had been, Natalie was asleep in seconds. Marco roused her when they arrived at the hotel, and the two of them trudged up to the room and took care of essentials before climbing into bed.
“I want to make love to you, but you look exhausted. Sleep, and I will ravage you in the morning.”
Natalie smiled lazily, her head already sinking into the luxurious, fluffy pillow. “Okay.”
Marco chuckled. “Good night, amante .”
Chapter Five
Marco’s mood soared the next morning after making good on his promise to ravish Natalie, but the day went downhill from there. Despite looking everywhere, and knowing he had it last night, his riding glove was gone. Disappeared. He had to borrow Paolo’s, and as any bull rider knew, working without your own equipment was always the start of something bad. Bull riders were a notoriously superstitious lot.
The bull he’d drawn could be described as ornery at best and Marco knew his buck-off record was high. Despite that, he needed to ride the bull for the full eight seconds and hope for some bonus points along the way if he was going to finish respectably and not drop too far in the overall rankings.
When it came time to get on the bull’s back, Marco pulled Paolo’s glove on and tried to ignore the feeling of dread stealing over him, leaving him shivering and nervous. One of his favorite parts of bull riding was the adrenaline rush right before, during and after a ride. Tonight, though, the adrenaline was pressing down on his lungs and throat, choking him.
Marco sat on the beast as it flung its head from side to side in the chute, its horns making a racket as they hit the wooden and metal bars on the sides. Saliva and other things Marco preferred not to think about were also flying around the chute as the bull snorted and kicked.
Paolo was near Marco’s side, helping him with the bull rope while Conner and Garret worked from the bull’s head and foot to move him into the proper position.
“Are you sure you want to ride this guy?” Paolo asked, casting a worried glance at the flying hooves and the massive, vibrating body of the bull.
“I drafted him.”
“I know, but—”
“I’ll be fine.” Marco had a sudden urge to scan the crowd for Natalie, but forced himself to keep his focus squarely on the one-ton-plus animal that was already doing its best to throw Marco into next week.
Garret nodded at Marco. “Ready?”
“Ready,” Marco answered, nodding back, and after another nod at the tour official, the gate of the chute swung open and Marco and the bull went careening out. All four of the bull’s hooves left the ground and Marco swore the thing was going to take flight until all that weight came crashing
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