Hana had made a friend of Roy too, who helped her catch a kitty, then held it as Hana petted it. Funny to see him unwind here, too. He knew Tessa and Santini—spoke enough Italian to converse with Santini by the pool.

Santini had lothario written all over him, but York couldn’t help like the guy. He was robust in his acceptance of York, despite the take down at the pool.

Apparently, it wasn’t the first time the estate had dealt with commotion—Santini regaled them on the history of the estate through two Italian civil wars, and the occupation of the Germans in World War II.

“They actually took up residence at the house for a few months before the Allies chased them out.” He’d refreshed their wine glasses with the house Chianti and then toasted to the brave Italian partigianos who fought for freedom.

Ooh-rah.

“Have you seen Roy?” He’d like to check in, see if Logan had called him. York had still to buy a burner phone, but he guessed that Ziggy might have picked one up for him.

“He and Ziggy went for a walk.” Tessa said, glancing up at him. “He comes around now and then, especially after Ziggy lost her friend, Tristan.”

Right. Roy had mentioned that. Except he’d used the word, partner.

But Tessa made it sound closer, as in boyfriend.

Really it wasn’t his business.

“There’s some fresh-squeezed lemonade in a pitcher in the summer kitchen, by the pool and a tray of fruit and crackers, if you’re hungry.”

A subtle nudge to the fact he’d missed lunch, probably. He hadn’t meant to sleep so long.

And yet, his body simply, finally, sank into something and didn’t want to let go.

“Grazie,” he said, and she smiled.

He headed outside, the heat pouring over him. He could probably endure another dip in the pool, this time without the drama.

Even if he found RJ again sitting on the chaise lounge, talking with Winchester.

The actor looked up at York, a hint of wariness in his eyes before he chased it away with a smile.

“York,” Win said.

RJ turned and got up. “You okay? I knocked on your door but —”

“I’m fine.” He kissed her, touching his fingers to her face.

She nodded as he drew away. “Join us—we’re talking about the movie Win wants to shoot here.”

Win? Really?

York dragged a chaise over next to RJ and sat down. “What’s it about?”

“It’s a World War II epic. Remember the story Santini told us last night?” Win was shirtless, his body deeply tanned, and the man hadn’t a scar on his perfect body.

Yeah, well, chicks dug scars. York nodded to Win’s question.

“He left out the part about Fred, the American soldier who saved Angelica’s life.”