Page 115 of Falling for Mr. October

“My heart is full of you,” I say, choked up by emotion. “Being here…with you…it’s meant the world to me. I felt like I was drowning, and you reminded me that I can swim.”

She leans forward, and I bend my head to her. Our kiss is a blessing. A thing of hope.

“Come on, beautiful,” I say. “We’ll do this together.”

Less than half a minute later, we’re walking into the building. I take Bianca’s hand and squeeze it as we approach the desk.

Judy, the receptionist who was here last week, beams at us. “Oh, thank God, has it already been a week? I’m so glad you’re back. But where are your scrubs? The nurse who’s been filling in doesn’t know how to use a needle. I wouldn’t let her stick one into an orange. Can I be the one who sends her packing?”

“I’m not working today,” Bianca says, her expression pinched, probably at the thought of her favorites being turned into pincushions. “Rhett made me take the whole week off. We’re here to see Luanne.”

Judy sighs. “Oh, I could just slap that boy. The only time he bothers to lift a finger around here, it’s to do the wrong thing. I can’t even count the number of times we’ve been after him to send someone to do the landscaping. You can bet your butt he’s spent thousands of dollars getting that corn maze sculpted before the race next weekend. Meanwhile the lawn here rarely gets mowed. He could do it himself, but God forbid he break a sweat.” She sighs again, then says, “Sign the book and head on back.”

“I’ll do that,” I volunteer immediately. “The yardwork, I mean.”

Bianca turns toward me, her lips parting. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I know. But it’s no trouble. We can do it together if you’d like.”

She tugs me to her by the hem of my shirt and kisses my cheek, her mouth brushing the corner of mine. “You’re some man, Mr. October.”

“You missed,” I whisper.

She smiles and kisses me lightly on the lips.

“Young love,” Judy says with a sigh, waving a folded paper in front of her face as if it’s a fan. “Well, you kids sign the book and head on back. I think Helen’s playing one of your videos, Giovanni. Of course she is. She’s been selling those shirts of hers like hotcakes, and thank goodness. Did you know she’s using her own money to fund improvements around here? Why, she just bought a couple of benches for the backyard.”

An idea sparks in my head, and it lights a fire under the growing sense of purpose I’ve felt over the last few days.

“Come on, Bianca,” I say. “We’ve got work to do.”

My first mission? To ask Helen if she has a couple of shirts in our size.

We’re going to sell the shit out of them today.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

BIANCA

I watch as Giovanni sets up his camera in the kitchen, using the tripod with the ease of someone who’s spent the last year making videos.

He’s wearing one of Helen’s shirts, this one a little looser than the last one he wore, but bless whatever company pulled strings while it was making them, it still hugs his shoulders and arms. Giovanni looks like what he is—a star—and I’m not the only one who’s staring.

After he explained his plan to Helen earlier, she said he was the angel she’d been praying to the sweet baby Jesus for, and Luanne gripped my arm and whisper-shouted, “I’ll be damned if I’m going to let you allow that hot piece to walk out of your life forever.”

I didn’t even mind that much that Giovanni overheard her and smiled. Especially since he followed up with: “I’m halfway through our book, Luanne. When are we having our meeting?”

“Next week,” she said. “Are you reading it together?”

“Bianca’s a faster reader.” He winked at me. “But maybe she’ll agree to a study session if I catch up.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Yes, Chef.”

Now, we’re in Helen’s kitchen—standing near the charred carpet. We have everything Luanne says we’ll need to complete the first lesson: the piecrust.

“Will you do the honors?” Giovanni asks me with a seductive smile as he finishes fiddling with the camera.

“Save that smile for the camera,” I say.