Hazel had to admit that this town was charming. Indigo had threaded her arm through hers and the two of them were strolling down the cobblestones of Via Nazionale. The sun had just started to turn a lovely, golden color, signaling to the Borgotaro residents that it was time to move on from their apperitivos and decide on the location of their evening meal. There was a pleasant, yet unintelligible hum of conversation coming from the rows of tables perched on restaurant patios along the length of the road. Hazel was feeling justified that she had taken the time to primp. These Italian women were gorgeous. They didn’t seem to be aware of how glamorous they were so Hazel tried not to stare. They passed a gelato shop and a large, happy man boomed out, “Buona Sera, lovely ladies,” in a strong Italian accent. When Indigo glanced in his direction he bowed, and she giggled and blushed.

“That’s Gio,” Indigo whispered. “He’s been here forever.”

Hazel glanced over her shoulder and Gio winked and gave her a little wave.

“Where are we going?” She spotted a couple passing them that she could have sworn she’d seen five minutes before headed in the other direction.

“Nowhere, sweetie. We’re just walking.”

She could see that they were walking They’d been walking since they’d finished their glasses of prosecco at a bar at the beginning of this long street. “Okay, but walking where?”

“We’re just walking. Just for pleasure.”

“But what’s the plan?”

“No plan. We’re just walking.”

Hazel huffed in frustration. The town was lovely but small; they were halfway down the main street and she could see very few shops or restaurants in front of them. She hated not having a destination. It made her anxious. They came to the mid-point of the street and found themselves in a wide plaza. The building to their left was flying several flags and had some official looking plaques on the walls, written in indecipherable Italian. It must be City Hall or some kind of official building. Drifting toward them from somewhere behind the building came the sound of instruments tuning and an amplified American voice.

Indigo turned to her, gasping, “Dean McLean!”

Hazel shook her head, laughing at the look of excitement on her mother’s face. “Oh, for goodness sake, Mother, pull yourself together. He’s just a person.”

It seemed that now they had a destination. Indigo pulled hard at her arm and headed in the direction of the noise. They passed through a narrow alleyway next to the official building and found themselves in a small amphitheater packed with people in rows of seats on graduated steps surrounding a small stage. Dean’s voice was echoing so loudly because the amphitheater was surrounded tightly on all four sides by the colorful buildings of the town. Spectators were hanging from their apartment windows three and four floors up; window shutters thrown open to the scented evening air, cigarettes hanging from lips, or knitting in hand.

“Welcome to the summer season in the Quara,” Dean was reading from a card. Atillio, the man she had met in the park, was standing next to him. The already tight buttons on the jacket clothing his roly-poly body looked ready to burst with pride.

Dean was casting his eyes over the crowd, making eye contact with almost every audience member and giving them each a radiant smile. He was good. Ladies fidgeted and men sat straighter under his movie star gaze. Hazel shrank against the brick wall of the closest building. Her body was remembering the electricity that had flashed between them. Surprisingly, she found herself trembling a little. She was about to nudge Indigo to indicate she wanted to leave when she heard her name, very loudly.

“Oh! Hey, Hazel!” Dean had stopped in mid-sentence to greet her and every single pair of Borgotaro eyes turned in her direction. Mortifying. She gave a tiny wave in his direction and he grinned at her and happily turned back to his speech.

Obviously she couldn’t escape now.

At the end of his speech, which had clearly been incomprehensible to the majority of the smitten audience, Dean made a beeline in her direction.

“Are you here for the concert?” he lifted a single eyebrow in question. The lifted eyebrow caused a dimple to appear in his left cheek, and Hazel felt her stomach flutter in response. Damn, he was attractive.

“No. We were just wandering,” she said.

“Just wandering,” Indigo repeated, lifting her hand to rest it on Dean’s arm and squeezing. “But we’re glad we ran into you, aren’t we, Hazel?”

She could kill her mother sometimes. How many times in her lifetime had Indigo inserted herself into a situation where she didn’t belong? When she complained about it, Indigo just said, “You’re always so shy, honey, it looked like you could use the help.”

“Are we? I thought we were just leaving.” She had to get out of this man’s presence. She didn’t like the way her mind went all muddy when he was near. She needed clarity and focus right now. Not distraction. She pushed herself off of the wall just as he stepped forward.

“No, don’t lea…” His words were cut off by their collision. She bounced back slightly and lost her footing, but his strong hands were quickly under her elbows to steady her. She found herself only inches from that sexy dimple, and this time the electricity was palpable. Even her mother let go of his arm with a gasp, and she’d never known her mother to let go of a good-looking man once she had him in her grasp. She must have felt the shock under her fingertips.

They stood there in silence for a good five seconds. His eyes were on hers and flashing with humor. He knew how hot he was. He knew how flustered she was. She pulled back and he let go of her elbows. They burned from his touch.

“Like I said. We were just leaving,” she said, turning and running before he could say another word.