Amore and Pinot Grigio - a Guido la Vespa Christmas Tale [Guido la Vespa] (BookStrand Publishing Mainstream) by Veronica Bell Page B

surrender. “Okay, look, just follow me on Guido. I don’t want to fight.”
    The sight of Sandro from behind was distracting. He certainly looked enticing, no matter the environment or the angle—on a bike, in a restaurant, in a car, at an animal hospital or cat shelter, in bed…She managed to concentrate enough on road safety, though, to follow him through the route of winding back alleys and Roman boulevards he took to get to La Capanna .
    Once there, they parked their bikes and removed their helmets, facing each other behind the patio where they had first met.
    “I can’t believe it, Sandro.”
    “What? You can’t believe what?”
    “How come you don’t have helmet hair? I mean, your hair looks great in spite of the rain and the fact that you’ve had your helmet on.”
    “Too bad I can’t say the same for you,” he replied, his mouth twitching into a smile. “You should see yourself right now.”
    “Not sure I want to. Is there a ladies’ room in the restaurant? I don’t want to frighten your dad and if I look that terrible he might…”
    “ Salve .” A handsome, older man had stepped outside the patio into the laneway. Sigrid knew right away who it was and all of a sudden had an idea of how distinguished Sandro would look in forty years. “Who is your lovely friend, mio figlio ?”
    Sigrid began madly ruffling her hair and trying to duck behind Sandro.
    “Stop, stop, you look lovely my dear. My name is Giuseppe Totti. I am Sandro’s father. Piacere ,” he said, bowing so slightly and extending a hand to Sigrid.
    “ Piacere . My name is Sigrid O’Herlihy.”
    Giuseppe Totti began laughing. “Oh, I’m afraid that is difficult for Italians.”
    Sandro stepped in. “Just try ‘Sigrid,’ papà .”
    “And how do you know this lovely woman? Americana, si ?”
    “No, she’s Canadian. And I met her the night I—well we, actually—trapped that gray cat that had you so worried.”
    “ Davvero ? Really? Well please, come in, come in and be seated. Let’s have some coffee and biscotti. It’s not too late for a little more breakfast, is it?”
    “Thank you, Signor Totti.”
    “Giuseppe, please.”
    “Your father is so nice,” Sigrid whispered to Sandro. “So what happened to you? Do you take after your mother?”
    “Hey, never insult an Italian man’s mother,” he said, nudging her.
    “I was just kidding.” Sigrid had to remind herself how Sandro had treated her and that she hated him, because he was intoxicating and being around him was causing her brain cells to leak right out of her head.
    Seated at a table only a metre or two from where she and Sandro had begun their night of passion was discombobulating. Sandro caught her looking over at the bar many times and touched her calf with his foot, winking at her.
    She felt herself blush and looked at his father. And she began to tell the tale of Pinot Grigio and how she probably knocked the alarm sensor off its spot, or at the very least disturbed the wiring.
    Giuseppe looked amused. “My son neglected to tell me that he had help in rescuing that cat. He made it sound as though it were all his own doing.”
    “Oh, did he? Fascinating.”
    “Yes, he did. And I thought it was strange because he was never as passionate about animals as his old father.”
    Sandro looked sheepish. “That isn’t important. What matters is the cat is okay and Sigrid has apologized for the broken alarm system. She was the one who climbed the fence, after all.”
    “Oh that is nonsense, my son. She owes us no apology. None. She acted with good intentions. Honestly, Sandro, have you been making this poor girl feel guilty?”
    Sigrid piped in. “It is not a problem, Giuseppe. I’m so pleased I got to come here and meet you.” And I’m also pleased to meet someone who can put bossy-boots Sandro Totti in his place, she thought.
    “You are very generous. And I feel the same way. Now, I think I will leave you two young people alone. Sandro,” he said,