Rooted (Pagano Family #3)(39)

Not that she could do anything at home. And, true, she was keeping Rosa clear of it, too. But it felt wrong to be here, away from the family. She should be home, not enjoying Europe and Theodore Wilde.

Pulled in two directions. What she wanted and what she should do—they’d never converged onto the same path in her whole adult life. She’d always taken the path of ‘should’ and abandoned the path of ‘want.’

So, what did she want?

She didn’t know.

The path of want was overgrown, indistinct by now.

She sat up and grabbed the bottle of wine from the table. Filling her glass to the brim, emptying the bottle, she waited for Jean to return.



oOo



When she got back to the room, again feeling content and buzzy from the sun and the wine, Theo looked fresh and gorgeous. He was wearing only a hotel robe. She cocked an eyebrow at him.

“You look better. Did we have a spa day?”

He dimpled at her. “Nope. Got up, went out for lunch, walked around the city—tomorrow, we should do the same. It’s just spectacular. And then I came back and wrote some.”

“So what’s with the robe?” She dropped her bag on a tufted chair and bent over to unlace her boots. They’d booked a suite, with a sitting room and bedroom, both opening onto a balcony overlooking the rolling countryside.

When she stood up, he came over and kissed her, his arm coming around her waist and pulling her hard to him. He tasted of bourbon, and he smelled like his usual, amazing self. “I want to stay in tonight.”

“We’re here for a weekend, and you want to stay in? Why?”

He released her and took her hand, leading her into the bathroom.

It was a large room, done in all in marble, with a pale pink tone, like a blush. In one corner was a large, deep tub. The kind built for two. The tub was empty, but all around its wide edge were votive candles in small glass holders. They were unlit. A silver bucket on the shelf behind the tub held an iced bottle of champagne—a magnum. Two crystal flutes stood next to it.

Carmen just gaped for a few seconds. Then she muttered, “Jesus, Theo. I’m gonna find and destroy that book with the lame pickup lines. It must have an appendix for schlocky ideas for romantic evenings.” In truth, though, it looked nice. That tub was…enticing. “You don’t have to seduce me, you know. I’m gonna f*ck you. Promise.”

Undeterred by her snark—she was sure he was used to it by now—he stepped up behind her and circled her waist. With his mouth on her ear, he murmured, “There’s romance in you, beautiful girl. I know there is. Come on…Avignon, a nice hotel, a great tub, a fine bottle of champagne…and I have room service coming up at eight. You can relax in the tub, I’ll wash your back…sound nice?”

She loved his voice. She loved his body. She loved his arms around her. She even loved his dopey romantic streak. There was a lot she loved about this man.

That thought normally would have caught her up, but she was high on Provence—and on the good, dark wine she’d had with Jean. Maybe she would commit some kind of cultural treason to say it, but she liked French wine better than Italian.

Leaning back on his chest, she sighed. “Okay, I admit it’s a cute kind of lame. Is the water imaginary, though?”

He laughed and kissed her cheek. “I wanted it hot. Go get undressed, and I’ll fill the tub and light the candles.” With a swat to her ass, he let her go.

She turned toward the door and then stopped. “Wait—we’re not going to set fire to the place with all those candles, right?” The thought of fire gave her a moment of gooseflesh.

“We’ll be in a tub full of water, Carm. I think we’ll be okay.”

She left him to his chore and went into the bedroom to change into a hotel robe of her own.

They’d had a tense day or two at the beginning of this week that was now ending. Somehow, they’d found themselves in a tender place, hurting each other. Talking about things that Carmen certainly had no intention of talking about—or, rather, they’d almost talked about those things. But she had no intention of talking about them. Angry sex was better.

Angry sex had been a lot better.

But after that day or two, they’d been okay again. She was glad; in a month, she and Rosa would be heading back to the States, into whatever fray the Cove presented. This time with Theo would be over, and she wanted these last weeks to be good.

Rosa was already beginning to mope a little about the end of the trip. She and Eli were surprisingly serious with each other. Carmen had stopped waiting for the explosive breakup. They were making plans, figuring out how and when Eli might move to Rhode Island and what he might do when he got there. It worried Carmen a little—they were moving fast—but she’d told Rosa to go with her heart. She was young. So was he. They had that luxury.

As Carmen had hoped, her little sister had changed during this trip. But she wasn’t sure she’d had nearly as much to do with those changes as Europe itself had. And Eli, too—he was good for her. Carmen saw it. He was a down-to-earth young man, and seemed to be a kind of anchor for Rosie. He called her on her drama. Of course, Carmen did, too. But when she said something, Rosa got defensive and entrenched. When Eli called her out, she listened.

He wasn’t setting out to change her; he simply said what he thought. Carmen believed that he did love Rosa. And he was steady. Rosa needed that.