“So tell me about your father.” Dean admired Hazel’s long, brown legs stretched out in front of her as she lay back on the wonderful, checkered cloth, now serving as a picnic blanket. He hadn't been able to take his eyes off of her since he'd picked her up. Unlike her usual put together self, she looked casual and relaxed in her shorty shorts and cotton tank top. Her hair was gathered into a loose ponytail instead of a tight bun, and her face was refreshingly makeup free. They'd just finished a massive meal, compliments of an overly fussing Stella, so there was a lot, and he was packing away the stacks of Tupperware and uneaten food.

She'd propped her head on a fat pillow that Dean had swiped from Stella’s house and was chewing on a fresh piece of grass. “Not much to tell. I don’t remember him. He died when I was pretty young. Look!”

She pointed as a flock of birds swarmed out of a nearby tree, chasing off into the bright blue sky as though they were one animal. This was a beautiful place, and he was sitting next to an even more beautiful girl. Los Angeles and Isabella had only popped into his mind once and he'd banished them quickly. He'd deal with all of that later. It was incredible that they had this place to themselves. Sara had confided teasingly that she hadn’t grown up around here without learning the secret make-out spots. He'd blushed, she'd given him some complicated directions, and miraculously they'd ended up here. It was like a fairy grotto with deep, squishy, ridiculously green grass cascading down to the edge of the river. Crystal clear, mountain water flowed through and around sun-warmed, flat rocks like a painting. They'd dipped their feet in on arrival, but neither was brave enough to go in any further. The water had chilled their toes to numbness in under a minute.

“Your Mom said something about you growing up like an orphan. Is that true?”

Hazel huffed, half laugh and half sigh. “Indigo's nothing if not self-aware. Let’s just say she wasn’t the most maternal of mothers.”

Dean checked her expression. She didn't look sad, just pensive. She was tough, but underneath he could sense the softness and vulnerability. He wondered if all of her self-control and drive was a result of growing up having to look after herself. It was admirable that she still had such a strong relationship with Indigo. Most kids growing up in that environment would probably run as soon as they were old enough, but Hazel had stuck with her family. He wasn't surprised. He imagined if he had been lucky enough to have any kind of family he would have stuck with them too. How bad had it been for her?

“She wasn’t around or what?”

“Oh she was around when she felt like it. But she believed in teaching us independence, which often meant leaving us to fend for ourselves.”

“Us?”

Hazel’s face spread into a sweet smile. “My sister Sylvie and I. Although, to be honest, she’s turned out as ditzy as Hazel. Neither one of them is a bad person,” she hastened to add. “They both mean well and love me like mad. They're just different from me. Indigo says I'm more like my dad.”

“Like how?”  He'd finished packing away the hefty basket. He moved it from the blanket and lay down next to her, head on the neighboring pillow. Her closeness made his pulse race, but he vowed to take it slow.

“Like I said, I don’t remember him much, but Indigo has told me lots. He was an accountant. I find it hard to believe that my mother would be attracted to an accountant, but she insists she was. He was a great father, she says. He took Sylvie and me with him wherever he went when he wasn’t working. Mother said he doted on the two of us. He read to us, took us on adventures, even had tea parties. Indigo always says not to tell Sylvie, but she thinks I was his favorite.”

She took the grass from her mouth and threw it on the grass next to her before rolling onto to her side to face him. Her closeness made his stomach flip.

“I write to him sometimes. Is that dumb?”

He lifted his fingers and traced them from the wispy bangs on her forehead, down the side of her cheek and neck and across her sharp collarbone. Her eyes drifted closed, and he smiled. He liked that he had this effect on her. They were completely in sync.

“Not dumb,” he whispered as he brought his lips to hers. A soft moan came from her parted lips. He wanted to ravage her, right here on this blanket, but he wouldn’t do that. There was a complication in LA that he had to take care of first. Although it was over with Isabella, another kiss wouldn’t be fair to either of them. Thoughts of yesterday's kiss had kept him awake all night, but it would be unfair to Hazel to go further without talking to Isabella first. He pulled back.

“You don’t have to stop.” Hazel hitched her hips closer and pressed her body against him. He longed to grab her, to feel the weight of her stretched across his entire body, but he resisted.

“I do,” he said. “I’m here to find out everything about you. The kissing can wait.”

“Indigo told me the Italian tabloids say you have a girlfriend. I asked her how she knows since she can’t read Italian. She said Stefano reads them to her. I never know whether to believe half of what my mother tells me, though. Do you have a girlfriend?”

So she knew. Probably better if she did. “I did,” he said. "It's over." He rolled onto his back away from her tempting lips, it was important she hear and understand this bit. “I’ve been learning a lot about myself in Borgotaro. I've been thinking about my relationships, the other people in my life and what they all mean to me. This town, you know? There’s something about it that reminds you about the important stuff, the stuff in life you should be focused on; not career and money, but people and family. I thought this woman cared about me, but since I arrived in Borgotaro, I've figured out she doesn’t. I’ve also figured out I never cared much for her either, but rather, my idea of who I thought she was. I guess no one in LA is who they seem.”

“I’m sorry”

“Don’t be. It’s better this way. What do you write to your father?”

“Oh, stuff. You know, life. The way Indigo describes him, he was the only actual parent I've ever had, you know? I know if he were alive today I'd want to make him proud. So I tell him the stuff I think would make him proud.”

“Like what?”

“Well, I guess my career? We grew up in kind of a weird house. Indigo had jobs, but they never lasted. She never got fired or anything, she’s quite loyal, but she hated them all and would quit after only a few months. Some of them were good paying jobs, sales jobs and such, but we never seemed to have any money. Indigo is great at making money disappear, even now. I imagine my dad wouldn’t have wanted us to grow up that way. That he would have wanted more stability. So that’s been my goal. A stable career, stable money, stable life.”

“No boyfriends?”

She laughed and pulled him back towards her, staring into his eyes. “They never seemed that important. Until now.”

Dean resisted the urge to steal another kiss and pushed ahead with his questions. “How did he die?”

“Car accident. Went out to work one day and never came back.”

They lay there for a few minutes in the quiet; just the sound of the water splashing around those warm, flat rocks.

“So why are you in Borgotaro? Mother says she read there was some scandal, but it’s all very hush, hush.” He wasn't sure how to answer that. Should he tell her everything? Or would he sound too unstable for her stable life? “Too personal?” she asked.

“Not too personal to tell you. Just difficult to explain." He reached for her fist and pulled it from under her head. His fingers entwined with hers, and she smiled up at him and then looked down at their joined hands.

“That feels right doesn’t it? What you just did?”

“It does,” he said and squeezed her fingers. “I had kind of a break-down. On set.”

An adorable wrinkle of concern appeared on her forehead, between her almond eyes. “A breakdown?”

“They say I’m suffering from a panic disorder. When anyone points a movie camera my way, I feel like I'll die. I panic - and I faint.”

She took a deep breath and held it. She was trying to control her emotion, and then she lost it. She giggled. She kept giggling. She giggled so hard that she had to let go of his hand to wipe her streaming eyes.

He stared at her in amazement. She was laughing at him? He had just shared an embarrassing secret, and she thought it was funny? Had he got her all wrong? She took one look at his face and gripped her lips together, making a straight line of her full mouth. But it was no use, she couldn’t hold it in and a loud snort burst through her nose. He sat up sharply and tried to stand up but she climbed onto him, facing him and swinging a leg across to straddle his lap. She was still laughing. “I’m sorry, so sorry,” she said as she cupped his face and he brought his hands up to try to pull hers away. “No don’t,” she said. “I don’t mean it. It’s just so hysterically ironic right? Strong, sexy, devastatingly handsome hero; he can bring down an international drug ring, but falls apart when someone points a camera at him.”

“I thought you hadn’t watched my movies. You told me you didn’t know who I was.” He was furious now. First she laughed at him and now he finds out everything was just as he suspected. She knew who he was all along. It was just some trick to get him to pay attention to her. He struggled to stand again, but she wrapped her legs around his waist even tighter.

“I watched them all last night. And you are magnificent.” She wasn’t giggling now. She was massaging her thumbs across his tense jaw and trying to catch his gaze.

He couldn't help relaxing. The sensation of her strong fingers massaging away his tension and the warm weight of her on his lap, dissolved his anger. He had to admit that it was pretty ironic. On film he could face international terrors, chase down gangs and shoot a villain in cold blood, but the blinking light on a camera rendered him useless. “You watched all my films last night? All seven hours of them? I didn’t leave your house until ten-o'clock.”

“Yeah well I didn’t get much sleep.” Her voice had gone husky with repressed desire and he felt his own desire swell within him. “Indigo brought them to me. Apparently they're easy to lay your hands on in this town.”

“So you’re a new fan, then?”

“Yes, I’m a new fan. So you’d better figure out a way to get better because I’m waiting for the next installment.” She leaned forward and placed just a whisper of her lips onto his own. She brushed them against his lightly and then whispered into his mouth. “I’m really sorry I laughed. This must be terrible for you.”

“What?” he whispered back, “the panic attacks, or this kiss?”

“Both.” He couldn’t take the temptation anymore and plunged his hands into her hair and pulled her toward him. Their lips met, his anxiety and fear making him aggressive. He would take what he needed, what she freely offered, to make himself feel human again, and what could be more human than this? His breath quickened as she slid her hands down the front of his t-shirt, coming to rest over his firm abs. He pulled her closer.

His last coherent thought was that he should stop. They should take it slow. Then - he was lost.