“I get to be part of a family,” I said, shrugging lightly. “The guys I work with, they’re my brothers, like we share DNA. We fight and piss each other off, but I get them and they get me. We’ve all gone through the same things so I guess it bonds us together or something.” I looked at her, “And I didn’t have much of a family growing up.”

She smiled sadly. “No, you didn’t.”

“A lot of guys thought that boot camp was the worst thing ever, but I loved it. Yeah, it was physically tough—swimming, running, going through exercise courses, and learning how to shoot and take apart guns—but it took my mind off … stuff. For others, the toughest thing was being away from their families, but for me that was the best part.”

“And the downside?”

“Dickhead officers…”

“And their wives?” Caro laughed.

“Well, yeah!”

“Would you say you love it?” she asked, cocking her head questioningly.

“I used to. I was good at something for the first time in my life. Being part of my Unit—those guys were solid. Being a terp, yeah, I like that okay when I’m on deployment, but being stuck in a fucking office all day…” I shook my head. “I’m a good Marine but a lousy desk POG.”

“POG?”

“Person Other than Grunt.”

Caro smiled. “Yes, you always preferred action to words, I seem to remember.”

I waggled my eyebrows at her suggestively, “If you’re offering, ma’am!”

Her mood shifted immediately, and I cursed myself for being so dumb. I wanted a Caro who was happy to hang out with me, not one who was uncomfortable when I flirted with her. Dumb fucking bootneck! I changed the subject quickly.

“How did you meet your friend Liz?”

She smiled at the memory. “We were the only women on a press tour of refugee camps in Darfur. We just bonded. She’s totally committed to what she does and is a complete professional. She’ll go anywhere, talk to anyone, and she’s never afraid to ignore the line we’re being sold by politicians and top brass military. She has an amazing nose for a story.” Caro smiled. “And she parties harder than you do. She’s a wonderful reporter, but she’s no respecter of authority.”

“Yeah, she’s pretty scary. I thought Crawley was going to piss his pants when she targeted in on him.”

“Aw, feeling a little threatened, were you?”

“Hell yeah! My balls were just about ready to curl up and hide.”

Caro shot me an amused look, but then stifled a yawn.

“Are you tired?”

“Yes, definitely ready to head for bed, Sebastian. To sleep.”

Her comment was pointed, but I wasn’t going to let it faze me.

“Okay, let’s see what we can find. There were a couple of streets I saw online that are mostly pensiones. Should we try one of those?”

When I’d planned the trip, I’d worked out that these small, family run hotels were cheap accommodation in the cities—I just hadn’t counted on it being festival time..

“Sounds good,” she said, yawning again.

I paid the bill and we headed out. I was reaching for her hand again when she stopped me, a serious look on her face.

“Sebastian, don’t get mad at me, and don’t read too much into this … but I’d really like to have separate rooms tonight. Just…”

That definitely wasn’t what I wanted to hear. How were we going to work through this if she wouldn’t let me close to her? But she’d asked, and I couldn’t say no.

“Whatever you need, Caro,” I said quietly.

She relaxed immediately, a relieved look on her face.

“Thank you.”

I was so frustrated, thinking of a million things I wanted to say, that I hadn’t realized we’d walked nearly half a mile toward the pensiones in complete silence.

“This is the street,” I muttered, pointing toward a long line of narrow townhouses.

The first two we tried were fully booked and the third could only offer a single room. If worst came to worst, Caro could take that room and I’d find an all-night bar to hang out in—or maybe she’d let me sleep on her floor?

“We could try going more upscale,” I suggested tiredly.

“Well, we have to walk along this street to get back to the main hotel area, so we may as well try a few more on the way,” Caro offered.

“Yeah, okay.”

At the fifth pensione, we struck gold. Sort of.

“I’m sorry, signora,” the owner said to Caro. “I have one room with two single beds, but that’s all. It’s the Festival, you see,” she said, gesturing helplessly. “You’re lucky—I had a cancellation.”

I was willing Caro to take it, but she turned to look at me doubtfully.

“Pajama party,” I mouthed.

She rolled her eyes and smiled. “Si, we’ll take the room. Grazie.”

Oo-rah!

Our room looked like it was last refurbished in the 1970s, but it was clean and had two beds pushed together, and that was all I cared about.

I threw myself down on the bed nearest to the window, smiling as it creaked slightly.

“Not as noisy as last night,” I said, raising one eyebrow.

“I don’t think that’s even possible,” Caro agreed mildly, ignoring my flirting.

I was honestly trying not to, but with her it just wasn’t possible. I counted to ten, then turned to our overnight bag and tossed her toiletry bag onto the other bed.

“Thanks for packing up my stuff,” I said, looking across at her. “I thought I’d probably seen the last of these shirts.”

“What a tragedy,” she said snidely. “You might have had to do something shocking, like buy t-shirts in different colors.”

I smiled, but didn’t reply. She was just pissed that she hadn’t gotten rid of me for the night. I was fucking ecstatic. All I needed was time, I was sure of it. Almost sure.

I pushed open the window and gazed down into the street, watching people enjoying the festival. I’d like to have been down there and take Caro dancing.

“Listen to that,” I teased her. “Sounds like being in Italy.”

She stood and listened for a moment, a small smile softening her expression of irritation. “Yes, it sounds … happy.”

Her words surprised me and I turned to look at her. “Are you happy, Caro?”

She nodded slowly. “Getting there.”

“Good.”

We stared at each other until she looked away, then left the room to take a shower.

I gazed out into the night, imagining a future where Caro and me were together. It was possible, wasn’t it? I’d re-upped two years ago, but other guys in the Marines made it work. I’d be in Afghanistan for the rest of the year anyway, maybe more. But we’d survive—we had to.

When Caro arrived back in the room, her hair was damp and she was wearing an oversize t-shirt and a pair of tiny shorts. Both the sight and scent of her fresh from the shower made my mouth water, but I didn’t want to scare her off.

“Back in a minute, baby,” I said, winking at her.

The shower was cold, which was probably a good thing, helping to deflate my eager dick. Bastard was like a guided missile the way it aimed at Caro 24/7. I can’t say the aching cock and blue balls were doing me any favors.

I tried to ignore everything below my waist.

“You doing your writing?” I asked, as I walked back into the room.

She was sitting on her bed Indian style and typing on her laptop.

“No, just catching up with my girlfriends.”

She’d told me a little about her New York friends while we were at dinner.

“Did you tell them about me?”

“I told them I was traveling through Italy with an old friend.”

Not what I was hoping to hear. Was I still her dirty little secret? The thought pissed me the hell off.

“So, what do you want to do tomorrow?” I asked, trying to find something to talk about that wouldn’t irritate either of us. “Look at more old buildings?” Or I could just slit my throat now and save dying of boredom.

Caro smiled, her expression amused. “Whatever. This is all a bonus anyway. Where would you like to go?”

“There’re a couple of surf spots I’d like to check out, if you don’t mind,” I suggested hopefully.