Chapter 6

We waited anhour for their company van to pick us up and take us into town to see the closest doctor. I probably could have walked there in the same amount of time. Not exactly how I wanted to spend my Italian holiday—bloodied, bruised, on the side of a road with a throbbing thumb. Lynnette wanted to stay with us, but Romeo persuaded her to move along with the group to the next destination. Romeo would meet up with them after the doctor checked us over. The bumpy ten-minute ride in the hot, stuffy van felt more like an hour of my life I'll never get back. The adrenalin has worn off and the pain in my thumb is excruciating.

We park on a narrow cobblestone street surrounded by golden sunlit limestone and hobble toward a sign hanging from a side door with a red cross on it. My muscles are stiff from the drive as I duck into the cool, dark office. Romeo rattles off Italian to the nurse while Harrison and I slowly lower ourselves into chairs. The nurse ushers Harrison to an exam room first to clean up the road rash on his left side. Then, another nurse leads me into a room down the hall, where I wait with Romeo.

The door opens, and my eyes drink in the tall glass of sparkling San Pellegrino wearing a white coat. My lips form an ‘O' as my stomach flips. Holy Mother Italia of Tomatoes, this is the doctor? He looks like he just stepped off the set of a GQ photoshoot. His midnight-black hair is smoothed back from his tanned face while he looks over my chart. His white linen shirt under the doctor's coat is unbuttoned enough to reveal a tan chest, and his olive-green linen slacks are pressed perfectly. He's not wearing a ring, and my pulse flutters with an irrational sense of hope, which is ludicrous, given the circumstances.

He speaks rapidly in Italian, and my gaze pings between him and Romeo, who's gesturing at my hand. He turns his full attention on me, and it feels like the sun just warmed my soul.

"My name is Dr. Bianchi. I heard you were in a cycling accident. Can I see your hand?" His accented English makes my blood hum. I gingerly stretch out my dislocated thumb toward him. "Does it hurt?"

"Yes," I murmur, drowning in his twin pools of melted chocolate as he gazes at me.

His warm, smooth hand clasps my elbow while he examines my thumb. His cologne smells yummy and expensive, but not overpowering. I stare at his bent head and fantasize about running my fingers through his silky hair. He murmurs something in Italian to Romeo, who nods in reply.

"Is something wrong?"

"No, no. I'm going to put your thumb back in place. I'm afraid it will hurt, but it's better than the alternative, which is surgery."

I shake my head. "I don't want surgery."

He smiles tenderly at me and gently squeezes my hand. "Do not worry, signorina, I will take care of you."

"Okay." You don't turn sexy, Italian-crooning men like him down. If Dr. Bianchi asked me to marry him in his next breath, I'd say yes. I don't care that I've spent less than ten minutes in his company and know absolutely nothing about him except his last name. I can call him Dr. Bianchi for the rest of my life if I have to.

"Take this medicine. It will help with the pain." He hands me a paper cup with two small aspirin-size pills in it. I should question what it is, but right now anything to dull the pain sounds delightful.

"Thank you, Dr. Bianchi."

He winks at me before turning to Romeo. "I'll be right back. I'm going to get my nurse to help."

"Summer, are you okay here?" Romeo stands up. "I'm going to check on Harrison."

"No problem."

After both men leave the room, I jump off the exam table to look at myself in the mirror.

My smile slides off my face as I take in my appearance. My frazzled brown hair tied up in a ponytail looks more like a dead squirrel hanging loosely off my head. A halo of frizz sticks out in every direction like I've survived a bike ride through a tornado. I have a scrape along my cheek, and mascara has clumped beneath my eyes. Awesome. Dr. Bianchi just professed his undying love to take care of me for the rest of my life, and I look like a truck dragged me for a mile down a dirt road.

I realize I'm being totally delusional about wanting to elope with the hot doc, but I can't help but think perhaps this is the sign I've been looking for since I arrived in Italy. Maybe the Universe made me wreck my bike and come to this little town because this is where I'm meant to be. I smooth back my flyaways, unable to fix my ponytail without using my thumb, just as Dr. Bianchi and his nurse open the door.

"Signorina Andrews, if you could have a seat, per favore."

"Oh, please, call me Summer."

Dr. Bianchi flashes a smile and gestures toward the exam table. He turns to his nurse and murmurs something in Italian. She moves next to me. "I hold your hand, yes?"

"Yes." I smile half-heartedly. She's exquisite, with the most flawless creamy skin and perfectly arched cheekbones I have ever seen. Her mahogany-brown hair shines in the fluorescent lighting while mine looks like I was buried alive. I feel dirty and insignificant next to this beautiful woodland creature as she gently clasps my non-injured hand. So much for catching Dr. Bianchi's attention when he works with this goddess every day. He rapidly rattles off something, and although I have no idea what he's saying, I squirm in my seat imagining him talking to me like that in bed.

"Summer, I need you to sit still. Intorpidiró l'area. I will inject some numbing solution around your thumb, yes? You might feel a little pinch…" Dr. Bianchi's voice pours over me like melted butter. He could inject me with a needle the size of my pinkie for all I care, as long as he keeps talking to me in that soothing timbre.

"Yes," I say. He injects the needle and I hiss, unprepared for the sting. "Motherfucker, that hurt!" Dr. Bianchi and his nurse stare at me wide-eyed. "Uh, sorry. Scusi." I avert my gaze to the eye chart on the back wall. "Knee-jerk reaction. Apparently, I don't like needles," I mumble.

Dr. Bianchi says something to his doe-eyed nurse, and she holds me a little tighter while he injects again. The meaty part of my thumb instantly feels numb, the pain from my dislocation quickly dissipating. Dr. Bianchi hands the needle to Nurse Gorgeous and turns to me, smiling.

"Are you ready, Signorina Summer? This should be velocissimo, sí?"

"Sí." Uh-huh, whatever you say, Dr. Bianchi.

He gently takes my injured hand in his. The injection has worked because I can't feel a thing. He moves my thumb around like a joystick for a few seconds before inserting it back into the joint. "Ah, there we go." He tosses me a wink. "Smooth, like a fine Italian wine."

I stare at my hand in wonderment. "Wow, that was so quick!"

"Sí! Veloce. I told you." He stands there, still holding my hand while we both stare at my thumb like it's a 14-carat diamond ring. I'm so dazzled by Dr. Bianchi's charming smile and killer cologne, I barely register Nurse Gorgeous slipping out of the room. I wonder how you say, I want to lick you like gelato in Italian. I'm sure Dr. Bianchi could teach me. I sway toward him, quickly moistening my lips with my tongue. His eyes meet mine, and his lips tilt up. Game on, Dr. Bianchi.

The door opens and Harrison and Romeo rush in, ruining whatever I thought was happening. Dr. Bianchi quickly bandages my thumb with a splint to prevent further trauma for the next few weeks.

"Summer, are you going to be okay?" Harrison nearly faints when he sees my bandaged hand.

I want to tell both of them to get lost because I was about to have a hot make-out session with the doc…but then I see the stitches on Harrison's forehead.

"I'm okay, are you okay? I don't remember you having that gash earlier."

Harrison touches his forehead gently. "Oh, yeah, when they were cleaning a wound on my leg, I fainted and apparently fell off the table and hit my head on the corner."

"Oh my God, Harrison! That's terrible!"

"Blood freaks me out. It's all good."

"Okay, Signorina Andrews, unfortunately, I'm afraid the bike tour is over for you," Dr. Bianchi interrupts, writing notes in my chart. "You'll need to keep that splint on for at least three weeks. After that, you can either schedule a recheck here or back with your doctor."

I just nod. Will I be here in three weeks? I'd be willing to stay if it meant I'd get to see Dr. Bianchi again.

"Summer, the company is going to set you and Harrison up at a hotel here in town tonight. A representative will call you to make arrangements to get you back to Florence."

"Oh, um, okay." My emotions seesaw as I go from a high at the prospect of seeing the handsome doctor again, to feeling crushed that I'm leaving Tuscany so soon. It's now or never, Summer, take your chance. This is why you came here! "Can I have a moment alone with Dr. Bianchi, please?"

"Of course. We'll be waiting for you outside." Romeo ushers Harrison out the door and gingerly closes it.

Dr. Bianchi finishes writing in my chart and looks up, his breathtaking grin causing my knees to knock together.

"Dr. Bianchi."

"Sí, Summer?" He steps closer, and I boldly place my non-injured hand on his arm.

"Dr. Bianchi, I…I feel…" I lean in, my lips parting on their own accord, trying to recapture the moment we'd started to share earlier. I want to run my fingers through his glorious hair and skim my lips across his plump lower one. I want to tangle my tongue deliciously with his until I'm moaning his name. I raise my injured hand to feel the silky strands, so caught up in the moment, I don't realize I still don't have any sensation in it. It's more like a lead weight than a featherlight touch as I bang into his forehead. My lips land on his chin. Surprised, Dr. Bianchi steps back, rubbing his forehead, while gravity causes me to fall off the table. To my horror, he's laughing as he reaches down to help me up.

"Signorina Andrews, are you okay?"

"I…I—"

"Is okay, sí?" Dr. Bianchi smiles. "I think the drugs have gotten to you. Are you feeling…what's the word…woozy?"

"Drugs?"

"Sí, the cup I handed you when we started. Good drugs to numb the pain."

Ah, of course. That's why I'm acting like a lovesick fool. I'm not usually this bold or clumsy. I need to get out of here before I humiliate myself further. I give him a wobbly smile and open the door.

"Grazie, Dr. Bianchi, grazie."

Quickly backing out of the room, I slam the door shut. I lean against it, thudding my head against the hard wood. Dr. Bianchi was not hitting on you, moron. He's just Italian and sexy and likes to wink and smile, a lot.

"Ready, Summer?" Romeo spies me from the waiting room. I nod ‘yes' and we quickly leave and I'm sure the sexy Italian doctor is going to tell Nurse Gorgeous all about how the American with dead-squirrel hair tried to kiss him.

Fantastico.