“Which is why he spends so much time with Tucker and Olivia?”
“Yes. That’s part of it. But Olivia and Tucker also go out of their way to make sure he’s a part of things. They think of him as family and he loves that.”
“That’s nice.”
“It is, and it works for me, too. Because any week they’re in Italy entertaining him is a week I don’t have to.”
“Oh, really?”
Antonio pivoted away from the window to see his dad standing in the entry to the main room.
Red blotches had risen to his cheeks. His eyes narrowed condemningly. “You think you have to entertain me?”
Antonio grimaced. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded, Dad.”
“I’m perfectly clear on what you meant.” His chin lifted. “And if I’m such a burden, then perhaps I’ll just go back to my room and wait for the soccer game.” He turned on his heel and headed down the hall.
“Dad, really!” Antonio started after him. “Wait!”
Constanzo spun around. “No, you wait. I’m tired today. Very tired. But I was happy to spend the day with you anyway. If you don’t like having me around, then I’ll do what I want to do—rest in my room with a good soccer game.” He turned and headed down the hall. “It’s not a big deal.”
Antonio watched his father walk away and turn to the right to go to his room. Constanzo backing out of plans made no sense. His dad never turned down an opportunity to be out and about, doing things, seeing things, especially when he had somebody like Laura Beth to play tour guide for.
Antonio shoved his hands into his jeans pockets and walked back to the main room to see Laura Beth standing by the window, waiting for him.
“He isn’t going. Says he wants to rest.”
“Oh.” Laura Beth hesitantly walked toward him. “Is he okay?”
“Yeah, he just seemed—” Odd. Unusual. Confusing. “Tired.”
“I get that. He didn’t sleep on the flight. We got in late. Then we stayed up another hour or so eating.” She winced. “The man’s going to make me huge.”
He laughed. “He prides himself on being a good host.”
She smiled, then glanced around. “So what now?”
He sucked in a breath. “I usually go to the Picasso Museum when I’m here.”
She brightened. “Then let’s go. I don’t have anything else to do until the gallery opening tonight.”
He wasn’t surprised she and his father planned on going to the opening. When Constanzo butted in, he went full tilt. Maybe that was why he wanted to rest?
Antonio glanced back down the hall that led to his dad’s suite. The gallery opening started late and ended in the wee hours of the morning. Constanzo wasn’t as young as he used to be, and he might have realized he couldn’t waste his energy today if he intended to be up until three. Maybe he knew he couldn’t spend the day sightseeing and also go to the gallery opening? And maybe the whole nonargument they’d just had was his way of getting out of sightseeing so he didn’t have to admit he needed the rest.
The crazy old coot hated admitting shortcomings. Even if they were a normal part of life.
With that settled in his mind, he glanced at Laura Beth, with her bright, expectant face. He should tell her no. He’d sort of gotten them back to being friends. Spending the day with her was like tempting fate—
Or he could turn it into a day to cement their friendship. He could show her around, acting like a friend, and maybe his attraction would go away.
Actually, that idea was perfect.
He hoped.
PRAYING HIS PLAN to get them back behaving like friends worked, Antonio pointed to the elevator and Laura Beth followed him into the plush car, through the ornate lobby and then to the street. The doorman tossed him a set of keys. He motioned to a shiny red sports car. Low and sleek, with the black top retracted, the Jaguar hit the sweet spot of luxury and fun.
“Oh, nice!”
“It’s my dad’s, of course.” He paused halfway to the car as guilt unexpectedly nudged him. His dad shared everything he had, gave Antonio anything he asked for, and he shouldn’t have made that remark about being glad that Tucker and Olivia sometimes entertained him. But as quickly as the thoughts came, Antonio shoved them aside. His dad hadn’t been insulted by his comment as much as he’d been looking for a way to bail on a day of sightseeing. Antonio was positive he had nothing to feel guilty for.
Laura Beth ambled to the Jag. Her eyes lit with joy as she took in the stunning vehicle. “Your dad has the best taste.”
“Yes. He does.” He opened the car door for Laura Beth and motioned for her to step inside.
She slid in, immediately glancing behind her at the nonexistent backseat. “Maybe it’s a good thing Constanzo bailed. I’m not sure how we all would have fit in this.”
Walking around the hood of the car, Antonio laughed. “No worries. My dad has a limo here. There could have been space for everybody if he’d really wanted to come along.”
He jumped inside. As he slipped the key into the ignition, he could feel the heat of her gaze as she studied him. This was the closest they’d been since the day he’d explained why he wanted to paint her. Hot and sharp, his attraction to her tumbled back. The temptation to touch her was so strong, he fisted his hands.
“My mom does that, you know.”
Expecting something totally different from her, he frowned and peered over at her. “Does what?”
“Tells me she isn’t upset when I know she is. Especially when I’m home for a holiday and I want to go somewhere without her. It’s not really passive-aggressive behavior. It’s more like she sees I’m an adult, and, though it’s hard, she has to give me some space. So she says she’s not mad and lets me go alone.” She caught his gaze. “Sometimes it makes me feel guilty. But I know it’s her choice. Almost like a gift.”
He frowned. If Laura Beth had picked up on his exchange with Constanzo, maybe it hadn’t been so innocent after all. “A gift?”
“Yes. Time alone with my friends is a gift.”
He scrunched his face in confusion. “Why would Constanzo think we needed alone time when we just spent several days together?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Well, whatever he’s doing, it’s weird, because until today Constanzo’s never dropped back.”
“Maybe this morning he finally got the message that you don’t want him around so much?”
The guilt rolled back. It tightened his chest and clenched his stomach. He looked out over the hood of the car, then faced her. “It’s not like that. The only time I freak is when he meddles.”
She shook her head. “No. You’re pretty much always grouchy with him. But I get it.” She put her hand on his forearm, as if what she had to say was supremely important and she wanted him to listen. “You’re an adult who lives twenty minutes away from a retired wealthy man who adores you and has nothing to do but dote on you.”
He laughed.
“When he first found you, all this attention was probably fun. Now you want to