Dante’s Girl (The Paradise Diaries #1)(16)
Author: Courtney Cole

“Bull riding?” Dante sounds dubious, like he thinks I’m trying to pull one over on him. I have to admit, it does sound like a contrived sport.  Who in their right mind would want to sit on a pissed off bull?  I spend a second explaining it to him.

“Anyway,” I continue.  “Becca always hopes that Connor and I will end up together so that she and I will be related.”

“And what do you hope?  Do you like Connor?” Dante asks.

I can’t read his tone.  Is he interested in my answer for any other reason aside from idle curiosity?

“I do like Connor…like a brother.  I’ve known him since we were kids and honestly, I can’t like like someone who knows every single thing about me. There needs to be some mystery there.  I only want the best for him, though.  Connor is a really good guy.  He’s away at college right now.  He comes home on the weekends.”

“I see.” Dante says.  Does he see?  “What does your farm look like?  I want to picture it in my head.”

“Well, it’s an old farm house.  Not old by Caberran standards, but old.  Two story, with white siding.  My mom and I live there with my grandparents.  My grandma is a big fan of your olives, by the way.  Sunflowers grow like crazy in Kansas and my mom has a small field of them behind one of our barns just because she likes them. We always seem to have a vase of them sitting on the kitchen table.  We have horses, cows, goats.  My horse’s name is Mischief.”

“I’ve always wanted to learn to ride,” Dante muses.

“Then why haven’t you?”

“There aren’t any horses in Caberra,” he tells me.  “I suppose my father could have one shipped in for me, but I’ve never asked.”

“Well, if you ever come to the States, you’ll have to come visit me and I’ll give you a riding lesson,” I tell him.

“I’d like that,” he answers.  And he sounds really sincere.  I try to picture him on a horse.  But I keep picturing him in his suit, or a set of linen trousers and I just can’t see him on a farm.

“Look,” Dante points.  “We’re almost there.”

A bonfire glows in the distance in what appears to be a little inlet.

“We’re really out here,” I observe.  “Surely the media can’t find you here.”

“Even if they could,” Dante says, “They would be trespassing.  This is a private beach now.  And in this particular spot, it’s hidden from public view.  Even with zoom lenses, they can’t see us.”

For a second, I ponder this.  Dante has to live his entire life thinking about how he can go places without getting his picture taken, how to not get followed, how to not get hounded by photographers.  It must get really tiring.

“Do you ever get tired of having to be so careful?” I ask.  “Isn’t it exhausting?  I mean, you didn’t ask for this. It’s your father’s job. Not yours.”

“That’s true,” Dante answers thoughtfully.  “But I would never ask him to not do it.  Apparently, ever since my mother died, he hasn’t been the same.  This job gives him something to focus on.  It makes him happy.”

“How old were you when your mother died?” I ask. “Do you mind talking about it?”

He shakes his head.  “No.  I don’t mind. She died giving birth to me, so I don’t remember her at all.  I have pictures of her so I know that I look like her. My father tells me that I act like her.  But I never knew her.”

“She died giving birth?” I’m appalled.  “I didn’t know that happened these days.”

“It doesn’t usually,” he agrees.  “But apparently, the placenta detached during the birthing process.  She hemorrhaged internally and there wasn’t anything they could do. It happened very fast.  My father was devastated.  My grandmother helped him raise me until I was five and then she died, too.”

“You grew up with your grandmother?” Then we have one thing in common, at least.  My grandparents are a huge part of my life.

Dante nods.  “Yes. She was like a mother to me.”

My heart is happy that he had the experience of having a mother-like figure.  I can’t imagine growing up without a maternal influence of some sort.  And his entire situation tugs at my heart strings.  Here he is… so beautiful and the son of such an important person and a billionaire to boot, yet he experienced tragedy at such a young age.  It just goes to show that money really can’t buy everything.

I reach over and grab his hand.  I find that I want to offer him comfort, even though his injury happened so long ago.  He squeezes my fingers and then all of a sudden, we are at the party.

Kids are laughing and joking, the fire is blazing in a warm glow that reaches into the dark sky, and the moon hangs heavy overhead.  The evening breeze is just slightly chilly, but in a good way.

“Cold?” Dante asks me as I shiver.  He wraps his arm around my shoulders and his warmth makes me feel like I am home.

And then I feel stupid for thinking something so corny, but it doesn’t make it any less true.

“Reece!” Mia shouts from the perimeter of the party.  She’s dressed in an off-the-shoulder dark purple sundress and is standing with Gavin. He grins from ear to ear when he sees me.

“Good luck with that,” Dante murmurs into my ear.  I smile.  If the worst thing I have to deal with is a good-natured Casanova, I’m in pretty good shape.

I head over to Mia while Dante gets waylaid by a group of boys that I haven’t met yet.  They’re wearing swim trunks and I can’t imagine why they aren’t shivering to death.

“Reece,” Mia greets me, handing me a wine cooler.

I take it, even though I don’t drink.  It’s not because I’m afraid to break the rules because I’m not.  I just don’t like the taste of alcohol.  I figure it’s an acquired taste and I simply haven’t acquired it yet.  I’ve put it on my list of things to do later. 

“We’re going to have to go shopping tomorrow,” Mia tells me as she looks me up and down.  “Dante said that your bags are still in Amsterdam.”

“Yep,” I answer, grimacing at my one outfit of clothes. “They’ll be stuck there until the airports open.  But when the airports open, I’ll be going to my dad’s anyway, so I guess my luggage will never make it to Caberra.”