Hawke exited without the cat and leaned three chairs against the door. “Here you go, be back with the drinks.”
They unfolded the chairs and positioned them in a semicircle around the table. He walked out with a bottle of red wine, another of limoncello, and three wineglasses. “Want any snacks? I have some bread, cheese, and prosciutto.”
Dev gave a groan. “God, no. We just realized being invited to eat dinner here means you leave strung out on carbs.”
Hawke’s lip quirked. “Italians highly regard experiences of pleasure. Carbs, sweets, and wine are all important parts of daily life.”
“And cheese,” Bailey added.
“Of course.” He settled back in his chair and poured everyone’s drinks. He refilled his own glass with red wine, picked it up, and swirled it around like an expert. “How do you like Positano?”
“It’s stunning,” Pris said. “We only got here today, though, so we have a lot more exploring to do.”
Hawke stretched his legs out and regarded them thoughtfully. Bailey had the impression he was comfortable in group settings. A natural confidence shimmered around him. “Will you be staying long?”
“A week,” Dev said. “We should be able to cram all the sights in by then and decide what we’re doing with the house.”
His gaze narrowed and pinned on Dev. “This place isn’t about sightseeing. You should spend your time being bored. That’s when you experience the best moments.”
Bailey caught her breath. “I agree. Life shouldn’t happen on a schedule. Why is it so hard to convince others we shouldn’t focus on checking experiences off like a task?”
Annoyance hummed in Dev’s voice. “Because without tasks or schedules, the world would fall apart. I’m surprised to hear that view from a fellow native New Yorker. You must have been here a long time.”
In the outside light, Bailey appreciated Hawke’s strong features, from the bold slash of a nose to the carved cheekbones and hooded gray eyes that seemed the color of a misty fog. His dark blond hair was thick and slicked neatly back. He was more than handsome. He was interesting, and Bailey prized that higher than other traits. Her mind flashed to Will, and a strange trickle of longing kicked in, surprising her.
Will had been texting her. At first, she’d been trying to avoid a male temper tantrum after he realized she’d run without explanation, but he surprised her. His last message was long, a litany of intellectual emotion that fascinated her—a modern love letter stating he’d wait for her, that the play he’d written for her to specifically star in would be shelved because she was the only one who could bring the role justice. It was rare that a man surprised her. She seldom missed the ones she left behind, but Will had gotten under her skin. Images of him snuck into her brain, even as she reminded him not to wait for her. Still, she knew it’d been the right choice to leave him behind. She had no idea where her new path lay and she didn’t want to hurt anyone. It was better for both of them this way.
Bailey shook off her thoughts and refocused. Hawke arched a brow. “How’d I give it away?”
“You said coffee,” Dev said.
“Ah, that does it every time. Or D-A-W-G.” He adjusted his weight, sipped at his wine, and seemed to ponder his answer. “Been here about two years now. Have nothing against schedules, as long as you remain in control and not them.”
Bailey puffed up with satisfaction. “That’s what I’m always trying to tell Dev.”
Dev rolled her eyes. “Oh, please, that’s only because you don’t have anything scheduled.”
“How do you like the limoncello?” Pris asked.
“It’s good,” Bailey said. “A little sweet, but I like it.” She crossed her legs and didn’t bother to tug down her skirt, which rode up high on her thighs. She felt Hawke’s gaze slide over the expanse of bare skin, but he didn’t linger.
Dev caught the gesture and shot her a look filled with judgment. Bailey looked away, hating her sister’s automatic assessment that she used and discarded men. Pris seemed to catch the whole vibe and cleared her throat. “Um, Hawke, we’re actually trying to find out more information about our mom. She stayed here a few summers back in college—our great-aunt Silvia owned the house before. We wanted to try and track down some of the people who may have known Mom. Maybe she knew the previous owners here?”
“This is my father’s house. It’s been in our family for years, but like you, I rarely visited after he passed.” His eyes flickered. “I was too busy.”
His words inspired more questions within Bailey. She wondered about his past, and if it was too outrageous to ask him.
Dev didn’t have such issues. “Yeah, making a living can get in the way of Italian dream homes. I get it.”
He jerked in surprise. Bailey let out a sigh.
“Dev!”
Dev put up her hands. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay. What do you do?” he asked.
“I’m a professor at NYU. Finance.”
He nodded. “Good job. What about you, Pris?”
Pris stiffened as she always did when the topic came to careers. “I do work for various charities.”
Bailey cut in. “She used to be a ballerina with the New York City Ballet. She was a beautiful dancer.”
Pris waved her hand. “Too many years ago to count. But I make a difference in my own way.”
“I’m sure you do. Bailey?”
She caught her breath a bit at his intense stare. Her heart tripped a bit, then slowed. Hmm, interesting. Attraction was so important to her, the push/pull of a man and woman engaging in the delicious dance. The first flush always enthralled her. It was only later that she ran, when things began to get real. “This and that. The play I was acting in just finished, so I’m in between projects.”
“Go where the wind takes you, huh?” he asked.
“For now.” She offered a brilliant smile. “Until the next adventure is discovered.”
He smiled back.
Dev cleared her throat. “Would your dad have known our mom? Olivia Moretti. They may have spoken or hung out if they were neighbors. Or Silvia Agosto—she was the one who had the house before that.”
A furrow creased his brow. “The names don’t sound familiar, but I didn’t visit that much. I spent two summers here when I was a kid, but then I fought to stay at home. I didn’t want to leave my friends, and then I was in college and making a career for myself.” He winced. “I guess I was an ungrateful kid—not wanting to go to Italy seems like a foreign concept today, huh?”