“What the hell, Russell?” Her side was killing her, the stitch dug in like a hot knife. All her morning runs through the vast vineyards of California and Italy hadn’t prepared her for the vertical cliffs or the pace that Russell had set up these hills.
He raised his head from his arms and it was the saddest she’d ever seen him.
She dropped to the soil beside him and kneaded her side. She slid an arm around his waist but he shrugged her off.
“What did I do?” Damn it. They were in this incredibly beautiful, romantic wonderland of the Italian coast.
He shook his head, but didn’t answer.
“Is it the phone calls? I’ll stop those. I won’t check another message until we get home.”
“Home.”
“Well, that’s some response. C’mon, Russell. You know I suck at guessing games. Talk to me.” Not even a
