Beard Necessities (Winston Brothers, #7)(82)

My eyes trailed over her appreciatively. “Impossible.”

“What’s impossible?”

“You looking frumpy.”

Her eyes narrowed on me, like she was unimpressed, but her smile persisted. “Very smooth, Stefano.”

I grinned again.

Her cheeks pink, her gaze happy, I decided maybe this wasn’t so bad.

Scarlet seemed significantly less fatigued and weary today than she had last night. Cletus’s teasing notwithstanding, I was grateful to my brother. Finding enjoyment in the woman I loved, giving her reasons to smile, had been the right answer. My only regret was Scarlet and I hadn’t danced last night, an oversight I planned to rectify as soon as we arrived in Rome.

Just two more days.

“We’re here,” Beau announced over his shoulder. “Everyone just wait a sec, let me talk to the reservations person. Cletus will fill you in and we’ll be right back.”

Scarlet leaned in close. I lowered my head to give her my ear as she dropped her voice to a whisper. “Let me guess, they can only fit two people per gondola.”

No sooner had she said the words than Cletus stepped forward, turned to face the lot of us, and announced, “They can only fit two people per gondola, so we’re going to have to pair up.”

Scarlet chuckled, her shoulders shaking as her chin fell to her chest.

“What are the chances?” I bent to whisper, making her laugh harder. I caught myself smiling too, and that’s when I knew my family had finally worn me down.

The boats fit more than two people. Canals were full of gondolas with four and five people. But, sure. Whatever. They wanted us to have a boat ride all to ourselves, fine. If I fought against it, they’d figure out a way to make it happen anyway. Additionally, in this case, taking a gondola ride with just Scarlet was my preference.

I surrendered.

“Me and Jenn together in a boat, obviously. Beau and Shelly, Jethro and Sienna, Ash and Drew, and—uh—I guess that leaves Billy and Scar-er, Claire.” The Sheriff and Mrs. James, Duane and Jess, Maya, and all the kids had stayed behind at the house. “Now, everyone give me your phones and wallets.”

“What is this? A stickup?” Sienna asked good-naturedly.

“Not this time. I have a watertight bag here.” Cletus withdrew a plastic bag from his pocket and waved it around. “Best you give me your stuff to keep it dry.”

Still chuckling, Scarlet strolled toward my brother, handing over her phone and wallet. “Okay, Cletus. Which boat is ours?”

I thought I heard Jethro mutter something to Sienna like, “That was a lot easier than I thought it would be.” And I turned to inspect him.

He gave me a shit-eating grin but said nothing else.

Soon we were shown our boat and were on the water, but it’s important to mention our gondolier was the largest human I’d ever encountered. He was Italian, appeared to be training for a strongman competition, and didn’t speak any English except the phrase, “Sit there,” which sounded suspiciously like a threat.

Like Venice, the boat itself was beautiful. Rich, dark wood with detail in the sloping and spiral carvings. Red velvet cushions covered the seats and a red sash had been draped from the bow to the stern. I wanted to question our gondolier as regards to the age of the boat, it looked extremely well maintained and yet ancient, and had just decided to make an attempt at communicating when he pointed to Scarlet—sitting next to me, her hand on my leg, our fingers entwined—and then pointed to the seat at the center of the boat closer to him.

“Sit there,” he said.

She glanced at me and I glanced at her.

“No, thank you,” she said, leaning more firmly against my side.

He stopped the boat. He pointed at her, he pointed at the seat. “Sit there.”

“No, grazie. No, thank you,” I answered for her, sensing her discomfort.

He released the paddle—or the oar?—and stepped forward, his eyes on Scarlet in a way that had me rising to my feet and placing myself in front of her.

“Back off.” My adrenaline spiked, accompanied by the cool, calm focus I felt every time I found myself in one of these situations.

That’s not to say I often found myself face-to-face with a surly gondolier the size of Andre the Giant. More like, I’d faced my fair share of big, dumb Iron Wraiths; I’d always been outnumbered, and I’d always kept my wits about me. The oar could be a weapon. So could the sash.

Undeterred, the man advanced. I crouched lower, bracing my feet apart as I watched him come.

But then Scarlet stood suddenly and scrambled to move around me. “It’s okay. I can sit on the center seat. It’s okay.”

I grabbed for her and the boat rocked, unsettling itself, and what happened next still perplexes me.

One minute, I had a hold on Scarlet, and in the next she’d been picked up and dropped gently into the canal by our gondolier. My stunned confusion only lasted a split second, but my judgment had been compromised. Instead of securing the boat first, I reached over the side for her hand to pull her back in.

And that’s when I was pushed from the gondola.

This water was colder than the pool, but my mind was still on Scarlet. I propelled myself to the surface, searching frantically for any sign of her and finding her at once, treading water just a few feet away, her eyes wide with shock.