Chapter 22

ALESSIO

The drive into Moss Vale was picturesque.

The winding road was flanked by towering eucalyptus trees and sprawling fields of wildflowers.

The sun beat down from a clear, azure sky, the heat shimmering off the asphalt in hazy waves.

Cleo navigated the twists and turns with practiced ease, her hands steady on the wheel, her eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses.

I lounged in the passenger seat, one arm on the seat rest behind her, the other hanging out the open window, the hot breeze ruffling my hair. Despite my idyllic surroundings, I couldn’t shake the unease that prickled my spine.

Cleo squeezed my knee as if sensing my thoughts, her touch grounding and reassuring. ‘It’ll be quick,’ she said. ‘In and out, no fuss.’

I covered her hand with my own, interlacing our fingers. ‘I’ve got your back, bella. Always.’

She flashed me a grateful smile before turning her attention back to the road.

We lapsed into a comfortable silence; the only sounds were the engine’s purr and the faint strains of a classic rock station crackling through the speakers.

Cleo killed the engine when we pulled into the parking lot of the general store.

I reached out and tucked a stray curl behind her ear, my fingertips lingering against the delicate skin of her cheek.

She leaned into my touch, her eyes fluttering closed for a brief instant when she opened them again, a newfound light burned in their depths. ‘Let’s do this.’

Together, we climbed out of the truck and entered the grocery store.

The bell above the door jingled, announcing our arrival to the handful of patrons milling about the aisles.

I sensed the weight of curious stares on my back as we grabbed a cart.

Ignoring the attention, we loaded it up with Cleo’s supplies—huge bags of rice and flour, cans of vegetables and fruit, and jugs of water and oil.

Eyes on our surroundings, my senses on high alert for any signs of trouble. My woman moved with single-minded focus, ticking items off her mental checklist with quick, efficient movements. But even she couldn’t ignore the whispers that followed us from aisle to aisle, the pointed glances and raised eyebrows.

‘Is that Cleo Michele? Thought she’d left town forever.’

‘Who’s that she’s with, a bodyguard or boyfriend? ’

Both, I wanted to growl.

‘Or a farmhand?’

The last comment had Cleo in stitches as she met my affronted gaze.

I guess I deserved the description given, as I’d let my beard grow out recently.

My dress sense, too, had dialed down from Italian sprezzatura to outback casual.

Boots, jeans, a white vest and shirt over it, sleeves rolled up, showing off my muscles and bulk.

I gritted my teeth against the surge of protective anger in my chest.

These small-minded gossips had no idea what my bella had been through, the strength it had taken for her to break free from their expectations and judgments. She deserved so much better than their petty speculation.

Cleo’s hand found mine over the cart handle as if reading my mind.

She laced our fingers together, her grip fierce and unyielding. ‘Ignore them,’ she murmured, her voice low, only for me. ‘They don’t matter.’

I squeezed her hand in silent agreement, marveling at the sheer force of will that radiated from this incredible woman. She stood tall and unbowed in the face of adversity, a queen among peasants.

We finished our shopping without incident. The trolley piled high with adequate supplies to sustain us for months. I insisted on paying, waving away Cleo’s protests with a firm, ‘Let me do this for you, bella. Please.’

She relented with a small smile, her eyes soft and warm as they met mine. ‘Grazie, Alessio. For it all. ’

‘Anything for you,’ I murmured, meaning it with every fiber of my being.

I loaded the last of the sacks into the bed of the truck, flexing my arms and back with the effort.

I arranged the bags and boxes with meticulous care. I wanted everything to be perfect for her, to show her that she was cherished and protected.

Her hands trailed over my back as I locked up.

She waggled her sunglasses at me. ‘Hungry?’

‘Starving.’

‘I know someplace. It’s been a beat since I worked there, but if the chef is the same, the food is decent.’

We walked hand in hand through Moss Vale, the sun shining, the breeze blowing, and life golden.

The bell on the cafe door jangled as we stepped inside, the aroma of baking pies enveloping us like a warm hug.

Checkered tablecloths covered the tables, and framed photos of rolling pastures dotted the walls, giving the space a cozy, homespun feel.

‘Cleo, so lovely to see you again!’

A plump, motherly woman with rosy cheeks emerged from behind the counter, arms outstretched. She pulled my companion into a tight embrace .

An older man with gray hair and a kind face followed close after. ‘And who’s this strapping young man?’

He raked eyes over me, glancing me up and down approvingly.

‘This is Alessio,’ Cleo said, taking my hand. ‘My special someone.’

She smiled up at me, her eyes sparkling.

‘Well, any friend of Cleo’s is a friend of ours! Welcome!’

The man clapped me on the shoulder. ‘I’m Bill, and this is my wife, Nancy. We’re the Nichols and are so glad you’re joining us today.’

‘The pleasure’s all mine,’ I replied, shaking his hand.

Their warmth and easy smiles immediately put me at ease. I understood why Cleo had enjoyed working here.

Nancy ushered us to a corner table. ‘You two make such a lovely couple! Now, what can I get you to drink? Some coffee, tea?’

‘Two lemonades would be awesome, thank you.’ Cleo slid into the booth across me, reaching for my hand again.

I laced my fingers through hers, loving how we fit together.

As Bill and Nancy bustled off to fetch our drinks, I surveyed the cafe, taking in its simple charm and noticing how the other diners—regulars and locals—chatted animatedly.

Cleo had described it well—the perfect cozy spot to steal a little time for ourselves, surrounded by kind, humble people who wouldn’t pry or gossip.

My woman leaned in close, her voice warm. ‘I liked it here because Bill and Nancy have always respected my privacy and never pried into my life. They let me just be.’

She glanced at where the couple bustled behind the counter, preparing our order. ‘When everything else was spinning out of control, this place was my haven, even for a little while.’

I squeezed her hand, emotions welling up inside my chest. To know that she had struggled and had needed a refuge when I’d been blissfully unaware cut me deep.

But the fact that she was sharing this with me now, bringing me into her sanctuary, meant more than I’d ever be able to express.

‘Grazie mille,’ I murmured, brushing my thumb across her knuckles. ‘For letting me in.’

Cleo’s answering smile was radiant, her eyes misty. She was about to reply, but Nancy appeared with a laden tray just then.

‘Here we are, dears! Two lemonades,’ she said, setting tall glasses beaded with condensation before us. ‘And an assortment of our finest - steak and kidney pie, bangers and mash, and fish and chips. You mustn’t forget the sides, either. Coleslaw and garden salad, all fresh from the farmer’s market this morning!’

My mouth watered as she transferred plates piled high with golden pastry and steaming heaps of fries, the savory aroma making my stomach rumble. It seemed like an endless bounty, each dish more tempting than the last.

‘This looks incredible,’ I raped, inhaling in appreciation. ‘You’ve outdone yourself, Nancy.’

The woman pinked, waving a hand in modest denial. ‘Oh, it’s nothing special. You dig in and enjoy, hear? And mind, I’ll be mighty offended if there’s so much as a crumb left over!’

Cleo and I chuckled, promising to do the spread justice. Nancy topped off our lemonades with a wink before bustling off again, leaving us to the mouthwatering feast.

Cleo reached for a fry, but I caught her hand, bringing it to my lips. Her skin was soft and warm beneath my touch, pulse fluttering at her wrist. A heartbeat passed as we stared at each other, the air between us electric with longing.

‘I treasure you,’ I murmured, thick with emotion. ‘So much.’

‘I adore you too,’ she whispered back, lashes dipping to hide the sudden sheen of tears. ‘More than you know.’

Unable to resist any longer, I leaned in, capturing her mouth with mine. The kiss was slow and deep, a reaffirmation of the love we shared. When we finally parted, we were both breathless, cheeks flushed with desire.

Grinning, I released her hand and snagged a fry. ‘Mmm, you’re right. They’re perfect.’

Cleo laughed, the sound bright and carefree. She picked up her fork and dug into the pie, humming with pleasure at the first bite. ‘See? I told you so.’

We ate in companionable silence for a while, savoring each mouthful.

Now and then, our hands would brush as we reached for the same dish, sending sparks skittering across my skin. I couldn’t stop myself from touching her in pulse checks - a graze of fingers along her arm, a palm resting on her thigh. I knew she sensed the overwhelming need for closeness from how she leaned into me.

All my worries faded at that moment, surrounded by excellent food and even better company.

For the first time in fuckin’ forever, I was contented.

Without warning, the cafe’s cheerful chatter died as a familiar Ram 1500 truck screeched into the parking lot.

I sliced my eyes to the unfolding view.

Four men swung out of the car, and I froze. I recognized them as I locked on their swaggering progress toward the diner’s front door.

Fuck.

All thugs were toting guns in open carry disdain.

I was not the only apprised of the impending danger.

I leaned into my woman as people scrambled to get out of the place from the second door to the eatery’s rear.

‘Trust me, stay put, I’ll be back,’ I growled to Cleo.

Her eyes widened, and her face lost color, but she nodded.

I melted into the departing crowd.