Chapter 1

As I sat on a hard chair on the edge of a cobblestone street, covered by a red awning and its heavy shade, I heaved a happy sigh. First Paris, and now Rome. “The only thing that could possibly make this day better is chocolate.”

“If Italian chocolate is as good as this pasta was, I’m in,” my sister, Kennedy said. The plate in front of her was as empty as mine, and she sat back in her chair with a contented smile, gazing at the man on her right. Hunter. Our next-door-neighbor from the small town where we were raised.

Finally . It had taken days of work to get them together in Paris, with both of them fighting my efforts tooth and nail. For two people who’d loved each other since childhood, they sure knew how to take their time.

But nobody could fight the city of love, and Paris worked its magic. Ironic that it took our grandfather dying, his lawyer surprising us with an inheritance on condition that we traveled Europe together for a month, and a stop in Paris, where Hunter was living, to get her in his arms.

It wasn’t a small inheritance, either. The numbers were staggering. Not that the money mattered to me. My Instagram empire was finally picking up, and I’d be supporting myself as an influencer within the year. Meanwhile, as much as we enjoyed each other’s company, what remained of our little family still had a big rift—Dad’s leaving us a decade ago and taking Alexis with him had changed all of our lives forever. She still refused to discuss why she went with him all those years ago . . . which made our forced vacation awkward at times.

Some sisters hurled unkind words at each other over stolen clothes or boyfriends. Not us. The words we spoke were kind, but painfully so. Nothing we said could change the fact that a decade ago, on my birthday, our family had split nearly in half. After that day, the five of us would never be in the same room again.

I had to stop thinking gloomy thoughts. Paris was a feast for the eyes, for sure. But Rome? Rome already held a part of my heart and I’d only been here a few hours. Something about it just seemed like home.

Rome, I think I love you.

“If we want to come back to this restaurant for dinner tonight, I won’t complain,” I told the others. “My tagliolini was divine.”

Kennedy and Hunter nodded absently, still absorbed in each other. I doubted they’d even heard me. They barely noticed Alexis, who sat to my right, and me these days. Not that I could blame Kennedy—Hunter would be leaving for the States in two days, and then she’d have the rest of the month to spend with us two sisters.

Matteo leaned over the table. “White truffles are the secret to tagliolini. That’s a mushroom, by the way. Not chocolate.”

Rome, I take that back.

For a moment, I’d completely forgotten about Hunter’s Italian friend, who deserved a college degree in cockiness with a minor in mansplaining. From the second his massive dog had bowled me over on the bridge earlier, he’d barely spoken at all except to send little verbal jabs my way.

The run-in earlier wasn’t my fault, either. What kind of guy knocked a woman over and then refused to apologize? Dog or not, it was simple manners. Which this man clearly did not have.

I looked him dead in the eye. “This may be hard for you to believe, but we do know the difference in America. You know what else we know? How to train dogs not to jump on people.”

He feigned surprise. “What a relief. And here, I assumed you were destined for cat lady-hood.”

Alexis snorted. “She has two of them.”

When I sent a glare her way, she wore an innocent look. Alexis was no stranger to verbal jabs either, but she could at least have my back right now.

“Expected,” Matteo said with a dramatic sigh. “I bet she also has an entire nursery worth of potted plants with names.”

I gaped at him. The guy couldn’t be serious.

“You’re two for two,” Alexis said. “But you’d better be careful, Matteo. Might want to apologize before she gets feisty.”

“This little thing,” Matteo echoed, his gaze locked on mine as if with a pair of steel handcuffs. His dark brown eyes held a challenge, like he wanted me to engage and would continue to jab until that happened. Like he meant to find the line that separated polite youngest sister Jillie and serial killer Jillie.

Dante, the huge dog who rested at Matteo’s feet, sat up, his giant tongue slopping around in his mouth. Short fur covered his wrinkly skin, unable to hide his muscular build. Like a boxer, but with long, floppy jowls. A Napoleon Mastiff, Matteo called him. Neapolitan, maybe? I couldn’t remember.

And yes, I had two cats, but I didn’t mind dogs. What I did mind was getting knocked over by one. At a petite 5’2”, I wasn’t the biggest person in the world, sure—but that dog was heavy. Trained dogs didn’t do things like that, and good owners didn’t defend their dogs’ bad behavior, refuse to apologize, and then hurl unfounded accusations at their dogs’ victims.

If I didn’t know better, I’d guess the guy had told the dog to jump on me. It seemed like something he’d do.

No, I didn’t like Matteo at all. Despite the fact that he brought us to a restaurant popular among the locals for lunch that served us the best pasta I’d ever tasted. Or his unfair attractiveness and the way his gaze halted on every single forkful of pasta that entered my mouth.

Sure, the guy was model-attractive at first glance. Not just his build, which he clearly cared about, but his face too. Like an Italian Bond who only spoke Sarcasm. He reminded me of a radio announcer or audiobook narrator with an Italian accent, if such a person spoke with a teasing glint in his eyes. Above straight white teeth, no less.

Italian Bond radio announcers didn’t have teeth like that. Did they? This guy broke pretty much every stereotype I’d ever believed about European men. But pretty teeth or not, nobody called me “little” and got away with it.

I tried to look unaffected. “Sorry, but whatever you think you know about me, you’re wrong.”

“Maybe, maybe not. That’s the third time you’ve apologized for something in the past two hours.”

Could I say a single word without it being critiqued by this man? “Excuse me?

He patted his dog, wearing a small smile as if this were all a big joke. Then I realized I just asked him to pardon me, which seemed as bad as the apology thing, and grew even more flustered. He twisted everything that came out of my mouth.

“He enjoys provoking you, Jillie,” Kennedy jumped in. My oldest sister often took it upon herself to act like Mom, which was occasionally heartwarming but more often annoying. “Just ignore him.”

Ignore him? The man smirking at me from across the table, thinking he’s won? I nearly stood to leave, except I had one more small bite left of pasta left and that was more precious than gold. So I slid that deliciousness onto my fork and lifted it carefully to my mouth.

And just as before, Matteo’s gaze followed the fork to my lips.

He thought he knew my type, but it was the other way around. I’d known plenty of Matteos over the years, starting with Pete McRussell in fourth grade. The type of guy who irritated a girl to get her attention.

Well, Matteo wouldn’t get what he wanted today—the irritation or the girl.

I finished chewing and swallowed. So blasted good. I seriously considered licking the plate before remembering my every move was being watched.

You’re a grown woman, Jillie. Act like it.

“So, Matteo,” Kennedy said, drawing his attention. “You lived with Hunter shortly after he moved to Paris, right? I’d love to hear how that happened.”

“A rental mix-up.” Hunter shot Matteo a meaningful glance that clearly said, Stop being an idiot . “After my internship, we both contracted for the same flat, so we decided to share it and split the rent. It worked out fine.”

“Let me guess,” I said. “He and the dog got the bed and you slept on the couch?”

Hunter laughed. “Matteo, I have a feeling she’s going to win this little feud of yours.”

Matteo leaned back and crossed one leg over the other, as if he had all day. “I’m surprised some Americans have time to travel with so many cats and plants to take care of.”

I pride myself in being a happy, positive person. Mom called me “sunshine” for a reason. But something about this man made me bristle like a barberry bush, and I didn’t like it.

You’re letting Matteo control the mood, I told myself, and shook off the gloom. We were in Rome and all together, the two most important things. I refused to allow an annoying stranger to ruin this for us.

I opened my travel app and counted the items on my tourist list. We’d only seen two of the thirteen so far, and we had a day and a half left to do the rest. I’d even looked up the best photography locations and angles and everything. Not only did I have a duty to my sisters, but to my followers. All eighty thousand of them.

Not to mention my mom, who gave me the camera in the first place. No matter where I went in the world, I had a little piece of her with me. That and the two sisters at my side, strained relationships or not, were the closest I could get to having Mom here.

The thought of returning alone to the house that had once been full of laughter and family members made my heart ache. I loved that house. More than that, I loved the memories. But I couldn’t cherish good memories without remembering the bad, and there were plenty of those too. Dad and Alexis leaving. Mom passing away. And now Kennedy dating Hunter. . .

I imagined what it’d be like when Kennedy moved out. Would they end up in Paris after all, thousands of miles away? I didn’t like the thought.

Stop. It. Right. Now.

“Where’s the server?” Kennedy pulled out her purse. “It’s my turn to pay and I’m not arguing about it, so you can close your mouth, Jillie.”

My jaw snapped shut. I wanted to argue, but my phone buzzed. A message from Hunter to me and Alexis. I saw movement out of the corner of my eye as she pulled out her own phone.

I arranged a private pizza cooking class for Kennedy and it starts in thirty minutes. Do you two mind if I steal her for the rest of the day? I checked with your grandpa’s attorney and she said it wouldn’t violate the terms to be away for a few hours.

An Italian cooking class, in Rome. I loved—absolutely loved—pizza and Kennedy rarely ate Italian. It didn’t seem fair. The whole experience sounded amazing, and I wasn’t even invited.

More importantly, we were supposed to be traveling together as sisters for the entire month—according to Eleanor, the attorney, we wouldn’t get our grandfather’s inheritance otherwise. But as cute as Kennedy and Hunter were, it was hard to pretend we didn’t see their secret kisses and the whispers meant only for each other.

The day would come when I could share a romantic Italian cooking class with a man I loved. Today was Kennedy’s chance, though, and I needed be happy for her.

Alexis seemed to feel the same way, so we nodded slightly to Hunter. His chin dipped ever so slightly as he bent over his phone. Then a second message came, this time just to me.

Matteo has agreed to show you two around the city. I feel better about leaving you in his hands than sending you off alone. But if he’s really getting under your skin, I’ll send him away.

Kennedy closed her purse and handed her credit card to the server as he walked by. “So what does everyone want to see next?”

“All the touristy sites,” I said, “but I also want to see what it’s really like to live here. To be a part of the culture.” To experience the city like an insider, like a local.

Like Matteo, but not . . . him.

Was it too much to ask, to see Rome without being teased about my height or how I say “sorry” too much or pretty much everything? One text to Hunter, and I could be rid of the guy for good. It would be so easy.

I pulled up a map on my phone and felt immediately intimidated by the maze of streets, remembering the scooters and cars zooming by on the narrow roads. Could I even get around without a guide? Hunter was the only other person who knew the public transportation system here. Even Alexis admitted she’d gotten lost a few times during her visit, and taxis would cost a fortune. Walking wasn’t exactly an option, given how far apart everything was.

Blast. As much as I hated to admit it, Hunter was right.

I gritted my teeth as I responded to his text.

I’ll give Matteo one last chance.

Hunter checked his screen discreetly so Kennedy wouldn’t see. His fingers moved quickly, but I received no reply. Instead, I heard a buzzing from Matteo’s direction.

The guy pulled out his phone and looked at it before sliding it back into his pocket. He simply folded his arms and sat there, expressionless. A warning text from Hunter, maybe, about being more respectful? If only.

I found Kennedy’s overprotectiveness grating, but Hunter suddenly felt like the big brother I never had. Maybe he’d come in handy as a brother-in-law after all.

When the server returned Kennedy’s card, she put it away and paused as Hunter leaned over to whisper in her ear. Her eyes lit up before she looked at me and Alexis, her expression one of guilty excitement.

“Go,” Alexis said. “We’ll meet you back on the cruise ship tonight.”

Kennedy pursed her lips. “You both remember where the train station is? Don’t forget, it’s an eighty-minute ride back to the port. Give yourselves plenty of time.”

I nodded. “We’re good. You can make it up to us by cooking an extravagant Italian meal when we get home.”

“We have some work to do, then.” Kennedy and Hunter stood, their fingers still intertwined, and bounded toward a nearby line of taxis. “Have fun and be safe!” my sister called over her shoulder.

“You only have two days in Rome, and you’re wasting it.” Matteo stood. His mule of a dog immediately leaped to his feet, the tag on his collar jingling. Dante’s jowls sported an impressive collection of pasta pieces and red sauce. Had Matteo been feeding thirty-euro pasta to his dog ?

The man’s eyes met mine and held them firmly, almost challenging me to point it out. At least he ate more cleanly than his pet did, I thought, instantly feeling bad for it when he made his way over to my chair and pulled it out for me as I stood.

I felt his closeness as I straightened, felt his hot gaze on my skin. Lots of guys can be chivalrous like this. It means nothing.

He leaned over, speaking just inches from my ear. “Time to go, Jillian Travell. I’m about to make you wish you could stay in Rome forever.”

With the force of Hercules, I stared at a sports car driving by. Focus on the traffic. The sidewalk. The sky. Literally anything else.

“Lead the way,” I finally managed.

My traitorous stomach felt a little wobbly as Matteo and his dog strode away, my sister and I hurrying to follow.