“I have to warn you, if you’re thinking of filling up a suitcase with wine for your return to the States, they will only allow two bottles. So, if you want to buy anything here to drink along the way . . . buy what you want to drink here. Or, you have the option to ship wine home. You can see that the bus itself will have some limitations, so please keep that in mind as we move along.” He turned to the woman at his side. “I leave you to Alice.”
Emma listened as Alice introduced herself and talked about the winery, how long they’d been there, the grapes they grew. As she did, Emma slid a glance toward Gio. He really was something to look at. Strong jaw and a dimple to the side of his cheek when he smiled. He was so obviously Italian, something she may have guessed in the States but could tell undoubtedly after walking around Italy.
“. . . there are very strict rules for a Chianti to be considered classico, classic. You’ll hear this a lot. Eighty percent or more of the grapes used in this bottle have to be Sangiovese.”
As Alice spoke, Gio mouthed the word Sangiovese at the same time she said it.
He turned his face toward her, and Emma snapped her gaze back toward Alice.
“But before we start with red, let me pour for you our rosé.”
Alice stopped her monologue and walked around the tables, pouring the wine, and everyone in the room started quietly chatting.
Nicole turned to Emma. “Isn’t that one of yours?”
Emma hushed her and glanced toward Gio.
“On your table there is a simple bread with the truffle olive oil we make here. It pairs very nicely with this wine.” Alice stopped at their table, put a small amount of wine into each of their glasses.
When she was done, Gio lifted his. “Salute.”
Emma put the wine to her nose, swirled the wine in the glass, looked at the color. She knew before she even tasted it the wine would likely be good, but not great. A taste later, and that was confirmed. She could certainly drink it but wouldn’t buy it to take with them.
“Oh, I like it,” Nicole said.
Emma laughed. “You like anything in a wineglass.”
“Guilty.”
Nicole sipped again and Emma pushed her glass away.
“You don’t care for it?” Gio asked.
“It’s not bad.” She reached for the bread and took a bite.
Alice placed a piece of paper in front of all of them with the list of wines they were going to try.
“How long have you two known each other?” Gio asked.
Emma shrugged. “I don’t know, seven, eight years.”
“We met at that purple gym, remember?”
“That place was awful.”
“Is it even there anymore?” Nicole asked.
“Purple gym?” Gio asked.
Emma nodded. “It was this circuit thing. The entire place was purple. The equipment, the paint on the walls. Even the carpet had these purple stripes.”
“Trust me, it was bad,” Nicole said.
Alice circulated around with another bottle of wine and demanded everyone’s attention as she talked about the process they went through to make it.
Less than an hour later they were walking out of the tasting room, with only the Purple Hat Ladies hanging back to buy something.
“What did you think?” Chris asked as he walked up behind the three of them.
“I liked the Super Tuscan over the other two,” Gio said.
“I agree,” Emma chimed in.
Outside, the vibrant sun was tossing some warm temperatures down on them.
Claudio walked past. “About twenty minutes and we’re on the bus,” he told them.
“Something tells me the Golden Girls are going to take longer than that,” Gio commented.
Chris laughed. “We’ve been calling them the Social Security Sisters, but I like Golden Girls better.”
Emma looked over her shoulder at the two of them. “You guys are bad.”
“C’mon, you don’t have a nickname in your head?” Chris asked.
“Sure we do,” Nicole said.
“Let’s hear it.”
Emma laughed. “The Purple Hat Ladies. Life goals if you ask me.”
“What better way to enjoy old age than bus trips through Europe, drinking wine with your besties?” Nicole nudged Emma. Nicole had finished all her wine and was on her way to a buzz.
If there was one thing Emma had learned over the years it was to pace herself.
“From here we get lunch, right?” Gio asked.
“Yeah, the itinerary said small Tuscan town for lunch, then on to our first overnight,” Nicole told him.
“God, I hope my luggage gets here.”
They’d stopped under the shade of an oak tree to catch the breeze.
“The airline lost your luggage?” Chris asked.
“More like gave it a world tour. It ended up in Singapore.”
“What? How did that happen?” Gio asked.
“That’s exactly what I asked. So far, I’ve had the same corporate answer. ‘We’re really not sure but we’re looking into it.’”
Chris looked at her T-shirt. “Well, that explains your fashion statement.”
“You don’t like my shirt?” Emma was laughing.
Chris narrowed his eyes. “You don’t strike me as a five-dollar, street-vendor shopper.”
“Oh? And what do I strike you as?”
“That luscious red hair and your curves . . . you belong in Chanel.”
Emma felt Gio’s gaze travel down those curves as Chris talked about them. It was brief, but she noticed.
Nicole chuckled. “He has you, Emma.”
“And you.” Chris pointed at Nicole. “Long legs, petite frame . . . Versace. Big, bold colors and sky-high shoes.”
“I like it. Out of my budget, sadly.”
Gio looked between all of them. “You know, if I’d said that, it would have come off as inappropriate.”
Chris shook his head. “You have to be gay to be nonthreatening.”
Nicole pointed at Chris. “Nailed it.”
Gio placed both hands on his chest. “I’m not a threatening guy.”
“No, but you’re not gay.” Emma’s gaze challenged him. Their eyes locked.
“I could be.”
Chris laughed so hard he started coughing. “Oh . . . no. Please, I mean, cute as you are, you’re as straight as they come.”
They were all laughing.
“I was just called cute by a gay man who has known me for less than three hours. I don’t know if I should be flattered or offended.”
“Why offended?” Emma asked.
He stared her in the eye. “I’d prefer sexy over cute.”
Nicole tossed her hands in the air with a clap as she giggled. “And on that note, I’m going to find the bathroom.”
“Good idea,” Emma agreed.
As they walked away, Emma felt eyes on her back.
Chris’s laughter followed behind them. “You’re so not gay.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
“How is it?”
Gio was on the phone with Dante while sitting next to the fountain in the small city’s piazza.
“So far, so good. There are four women from a retirement community in Florida that were completely smashed before we settled for the night. A couple that are celebrating their anniversary, but they haven’t said much to anyone. Three guys from San Francisco who are hysterical. And two women from Temecula.”