That explained the shirt and the bag.
“That bites.”
“Tell me about it,” Red said as she jockeyed her backpack off her shoulders.
The three of them walked around the bus, and Gio made himself useful by getting the suitcase, and paper bag, tucked away.
Alessandro made an appearance and closed the doors. “Thank you for your help.”
“I don’t idle well,” Gio told him.
He was the last one on the bus, with an empty seat in front of Chris. Rob and Pierre were across the aisle.
The redhead and her friend, Emma and Nicole . . . whose name belonged to whom he had yet to figure out, were in front of him. Barbie and Ken were across the aisle and huddled together in quiet conversation. The Golden Girls were spread across the two available front rows. One seat behind the driver was where Claudio now stood.
As Alessandro turned over the engine and closed the door, Claudio tapped his finger on a small microphone.
“Welcome to the best time in your life,” he began.
The muttering on the bus simmered as they all gave Claudio some attention.
“As I’ve already told you, my name is Claudio. Alessandro is the safest driver in all of Italy.”
That made a few of them laugh.
“I’ve been a part of this tour for five years, Alessandro just learned to drive the bus yesterday.”
Gio chuckled.
“No, no. Ten years now, right, Alessandro?” Claudio asked.
“Sì.”
Red leaned close to her friend, said something that made them both chuckle.
“We are going to be on this bus a lot. On our drive days, we will stop every hour and a half to two hours. If anyone needs a toilet, we will make an extra stop. But if you could all make use of the stops, that would be best . . . right?”
A chorus of yeses.
“You heard that, right, Jean?”
Jean nudged Diane.
“Because we’re in this for some time, I always like to call out the names on my list and if you could tell everyone where you’re from. My way of breaking the ice.”
“Like the first day in high school after summer,” Chris said behind Gio.
Claudio cleared his throat. “Kimmy and Weston.”
Barbie and Ken raised their hands. “Hi,” Kimmy said.
“We’re from Denmark.” Weston’s accent was thick, but his English was good.
“And you both speak English, right?” Claudio asked.
They both nodded.
Next, Claudio named off Rob, Pierre, and Chris, all from San Francisco.
Gio came up next, which had the two women in front of him turning to look his way. “San Diego.”
That had the redhead staring a little longer.
“Emma?”
Red raised her hand. “That’s me. I live in Temecula.”
“You’re kidding,” Gio said.
“No.”
“Is that close to San Diego?” Claudio asked.
“Thirty miles,” Gio told him.
“So, neighbors?”
“Kinda.”
“Nicole?”
Emma’s friend raised her hand. “Also from Temecula.”
That left the Golden Girls. All of whom lived in The Villages, Florida, wherever that was.
“Who is ready for some wine?” Claudio asked.
The older women cheered.
“This ought to be fun,” Gio muttered under his breath.
CHAPTER SIX
“He’s looking at you again,” Nicole whispered in Emma’s ear once they climbed out of the bus.
“Stop it.” The last thing Emma wanted was a distraction this early in the trip. It was bad enough that her mother had left a message saying her father was talking with his lawyers. Emma couldn’t help but get her hopes up that the house in Temecula just might happen. As much as she wanted to relax and enjoy Italy completely, there was this crazy notion that her entire life was about to change the moment she returned to San Diego.
“He lives in San Diego.”
“Yeah, I heard that.” Emma pushed past her friend and toward the steps leading to the wine tasting room.
“You can’t tell me you’re uninterested.”
Emma twisted on her foot, looked her friend in the eye. “Even if I was, it’s a little early in the trip to be thinking about an Italian fling. We have three weeks on this bus with this guy.” An Italian guy that lived in California. What were the odds?
“Sounds like a hellova fling.”
“Sounds like a nightmare if it all blows up in a few days.” That comment made Nicole step back.
“I didn’t think of it that way.”
Emma rolled her eyes, turned on her heel. “Now that we have that out of our system . . . let’s taste some wine.”
A few yards away, Gio stood holding the door open for them. “Ladies . . .”
“You’re Mr. Helpful, aren’t you?” Nicole asked.
“Blame my mother.”
While Nicole gave him a hard time, Emma walked inside and thanked him.
“You’re very welcome,” he said almost under his breath.
Nicole giggled and planted herself at a table with four empty chairs. “So, Gio . . . what do you do in San Diego?”
Gio took a seat with them. “My family owns a restaurant.”
“You run it? Or are you a chef?” Nicole asked.
“We all manage it. Or part of it. My brother is the chef. Sometimes my mother, but not as much lately.”
Emma narrowed her eyes.
“I’m also a sommelier, but I’d be lying if I said ours is a restaurant that brings in the customers that are terribly picky about wine. We have some, of course, but most people only want a decent table wine.”
“Cheap,” Emma said.
“Exactly. I help some of our friends in the neighborhood with their wine selections. Otherwise, I’ll jump behind the bar if it’s needed, wait tables, schedules . . . some of the hiring and firing.”
“A little bit of everything,” Nicole said. “Where in San Diego?”
“Little Italy.”
“We love Little Italy.” Nicole glanced at Emma. “Right?”
“Yeah.” There were a few restaurants there that stocked R&R’s label. “What’s the name of your restaurant?”
“D’Angelo’s.”
“Your family name?” Emma asked.
“Of course. Why make up a name? D’Angelo is Italian, we serve Italian food. It works.” Gio looked between them. “What about you ladies? What do you do?”
“I work in estate planning,” Nicole said.
“Sales.” Emma had no desire to elaborate.
And when Claudio demanded everyone’s attention, the opportunity for Gio to question further had passed.
“Since today is a drive day, we like to break it up with a stop. And if you haven’t already looked at the complete itinerary, I’m here to tell you that you’ll be getting more than just Tuscany while you’re with us.”
“I doubt anyone here doesn’t know where they’re going,” Emma whispered.
“I told you that, Barbara.”
Nicole hid her laugh behind a hand.
“I stand corrected,” Emma admitted.