A/N: When last we left our friends, they were enjoying a quiet picnic lunch overlooking the Tuscan countryside. If we all could be so lucky… Let's check back in with Chuck and Sarah. I wonder if they have any of that cheese left…?
Disclaimer: Don't own Chuck
Chapter 3
After their picnic lunch, Chuck and Sarah continued their walk, making their way toward the winery. Their conversation had been light, neither delving into deeply personal topics. There were a number of times when it appeared that Chuck had a question on the tip of his tongue, but whatever it was, he kept it to himself. Sarah was grateful as she wasn't quite ready to wade into that territory; not just with him, but with anyone. Perhaps he could sense that and thought better of asking. Regardless, they mostly talked about the hamlet and its people or the beautiful setting they found themselves in.
Walking through the vineyard, rows of grapevines surrounding them, Sarah paused to gently cup a large bunch of the dark purple grapes in her hand. "When will the grapes be ready to harvest?" she asked, turning to look at Chuck. He walked on, his hands tucked in his pockets.
"I'm not sure. It's not really my area of expertise, but Massimo said it would be a couple of weeks, and that was about a week ago. So, I suspect pretty soon," he answered with a shrug. Sarah smiled at his response, turning her attention back to the bunch of grapes as she released them. Sarah looked all around, admiring the large number of plants, each with an impressive number of grapes.
"How do they harvest them? I mean, do they have machines or do they do it all by hand?" She asked, turning her attention back to Chuck.
"Oh, they do it all the old fashion way; by hand. The residents of the hamlet all pitch in to help with the harvest. Then they take all the grapes to this building up here." Chuck pointed up the row to the large wood and stone barn at the end of the vineyard row. He gestured with his head for her to follow and they continued their stroll. Once they reached the building, Chuck led her inside and began to show her around.
"These large vats are where they do the treading, or stomping. Most wineries use modern equipment to crush the grapes, because it's faster and easier. Serenity still crushes them with foot power. It's the way they've always done it and they don't plan on changing any time soon," he admitted with a sense of pride in his tone.
"I can respect that," she replied, nodding. "Is there a difference in the wine between grapes that are crushed by a machine versus those crushed by…'foot power'?" she asked as she inspected the vats more closely.
"Well, it depends on who you ask. The modern wineries would say no, I'm sure. Serenity contends that when you use machines, there is a greater likelihood of crushing the seeds along with the grapes, which introduces a bitter, acidic taste to the wine. Human feet stomping the grapes is forceful enough to crush the grapes, but gentle enough to keep from breaking the seeds. Plus, you don't need electricity or extra equipment that could break down. You just need some people willing to get their feet dirty," he joked, shrugging his shoulders with a chuckle.
"Well, I have to say, what I've tasted so far has made a believer out of me. There's just something so… romantic about adhering to the time-tested ways of doing things. We tend to pride ourselves on being able to make things faster and cheaper, but usually at the cost of quality. Sometimes it's worth the wait to have something done the right way." She turned to look at Chuck, catching him staring at her with an expression she couldn't quite identify.
He shyly ducked his head, trying to look anywhere else. Clearing his throat, his ears and neck took on a rosy shade as he tried to collect himself. "Well, once the grapes are stomped, they let the must sit for about a week."
"Must?" Sarah asked, her chin pressed to her chest in confusion.
"Yeah. It's an odd name," Chuck admitted, chuckling at her response. "The grapes that are all mashed up are called the 'must'. It's all the juice, skins, seeds and stems that have been stomped in these vats. The grapes are unwashed after they're harvested, so the natural yeast that grows on the outsides of the grapes is enough to convert all the sugars to alcohol. It takes about a week, give or take, for that to happen. Then the must is ready to be pressed. They do that over here." Chuck led Sarah over to what looked like a large wooden barrel with a threaded pole sticking up out of the center.
"This is the wine press. All the must goes into this big wooden basket. Then all the juice runs into this trough along the bottom and out of this spout into a barrel. Gravity does a lot of the work, but eventually they have to squeeze it." Pointing to a collection of wooden blocks stored on the adjacent wall, he continued his explanation, with almost a child-like enthusiasm.
"That's when they put these blocks on top of the must, stacking them up several layers thick. Then they screw the press head onto that pipe. When it reaches the boards, it has a ratcheting handle they push back and forth like…. Well, like a ratchet. Hence the name I suppose," he added, rolling his eyes and huffing at himself. Sarah did her best to stifle her giggle, but Chuck didn't seem to mind. He didn't take himself too seriously, which was a breath of fresh air. Most men she knew would throw a fit if she laughed at them, regardless of the situation. "Anyway... that adds continuous pressure on the boards, squeezing out all the juice. They can't add too much pressure or they risk cracking the seeds."
Sarah nodded her head in acknowledgement. "Kinda like if they used a mechanical masher." With that comment, Chuck's face lit up, his smile reaching his eyes.
"Exactly!" Chuck's face slowly went flat, turning his broad smile into a tight-lipped frown. "I'm sorry. I get way too excited about some of this stuff. Are you bored to tears right now? You can tell me the truth. You won't hurt my feelings. I find this stuff fascinating and I tend to run off at the mouth about it. Much like I am right now probably… sorry." Chuck looked rather sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck.
Sarah couldn't help but burst into laughter, her attempts at keeping it at bay failing her. There was just something so warm and sincere about him, all wrapped in his child-like enthusiasm. It wasn't the first time that day that he'd had this effect on her and part of her hoped it wouldn't be the last. No matter how she tried to steel herself, desperately attempting to hold fast to the self-imposed celibacy brought on by her life-long failure with relationships, she found that he snuck past her defenses with ease.
The most surprising part of all was that he didn't even seem to be trying. She'd spent a good deal of her life in the company of smarmy, narcissistic men that thought themselves God's gift to womankind, and those were the nice ones. Chuck was anything but, and perhaps because of that fact, she found herself inexplicably drawn to him. If she was honest, there was a rational explanation. He seemed to be a good and decent man, truly a rare breed in her life experience. Still, there was always that voice in the back of her mind that warned her that things were rarely as they seemed. She knew next to nothing about this man and, for all she knew, he was hiding out here to escape some horrible misdeeds. Even though she couldn't picture that to be the case, life had shown her that, given the proper motivations, anyone was capable of anything.
"I'm so glad I amuse you," he stated, looking embarrassed but trying to smile through it.
"I'm… I'm sorry. You just… OK, I have no defense. I shouldn't laugh. You're just so different from anyone I've ever met," she confessed, trying to sober herself, realizing that she might be hurting his feelings.
"Is that a polite way of saying I'm weird?" Chuck asked, trying to deflect by injecting his special brand of self-deprecating humor.
"Nooo," she lightly chastised, smacking him gently on the arm. "Well… maybe a little. But in a good way," she rushed out, gripping his arm. Realizing her forwardness, she released his arm and tried to compose herself.
"Is there such a thing as a 'good' weird?" he asked incredulously. He spared a glance at her hand as she pulled it away, a look of disappointment ghosting across his face before disappearing. His smile didn't reach his eyes, belying a certain sadness beneath.
"Yeah," she responded softly. "And I could use a little 'good weird' in my life." Sarah could almost see the words escaping her mouth and she was helpless to stop them. Her eyes grew wide in mortification at the implication of what those words could mean to him, but maybe more importantly to herself. By instinct, she started to wave her hands, shaking her head to offer a retraction, but the words wouldn't come.
Chuck held up a hand, halting her explanation. "It's OK. I get it. That didn't come out the way you meant it," he answered for her. He gave her a tight smile, nodding his understanding. She could only stare on in silence. She was torn in two; half of her glad to have an out, yet the other wanting to hold fast to what she'd said, if for no other reason than to see that smile of his return. She had no idea what was happening to her. Was it this place? Had it allowed her to relax for once in her life and open herself to feelings she'd never entertained before? Or was it the man, this kind, unassuming man, that seemed to put her off balance at every turn?
Accepting her silence as answer enough, Chuck changed the subject in hopes of dispelling the awkwardness. Gesturing out of the barn, he started walking. "Next door is where they store the barrels of wine as they age." Sarah watched him go, finally shaking herself from her stupor to follow after him.
Chuck showed her the next barn, where they stored the barrels not currently in use, taking her around to the rear of the building. This barn was set on the edge of a hill, and much to Sarah's surprise, there was a large wooden doorway set into the side of the hill.
"This is the underground cellar where they store their casks of wine. Being underground like that helps to keep the temperature and humidity constant all year around. No fancy environmental controls; just using the same technology they've used for hundreds of years." The smile on Chuck's face began to grow again as he spoke, but he seemed to catch himself, trying to temper himself.
Sarah wanted to kick herself for how she'd reacted to Chuck earlier. The warm, playful banter between them seemed lost now, and she missed it already. The truth was that she really was interested in what he was saying. She found the old wine making process fascinating, but even more so, she enjoyed listening to him tell it. She tried her best to reassure him of that fact at least.
"That's really amazing. Sure, I appreciate modern technology as much as the next person, but there's something about crafting something in the old ways that makes it seem more… authentic. You know what I mean?" she asked, turning to Chuck with a hopeful smile.
The warmth in his smile began to return as he nodded in agreement. "I know exactly what you mean. Maybe one day, if you're bored, I'll show you the buildings where they make the balsamic vinegar. Pier - he oversees the vinegar making- might even let you sample some of it from the various stages of aging," he offered, giving a shrug.
"Oooo. Really?" she asked excitedly. "That sounds amazing. I was in this restaurant in Paris… or was that in Florence?" she asked herself, contemplating for a moment. "Anyway, they had a dessert of vanilla gelato with strawberries and this balsamic vinegar reduction drizzled all over it. Ugh… it was heavenly," she groaned, reminiscing over the decadent dessert. Chuck's eyes grew wide at the noises she was making, his cheeks turning a faint pink.
"That does sound delicious," Chuck agreed, swallowing thickly. Shaking himself back to reality, he pressed on. "You seem to have lived quite the life; Florence, Paris, Washington DC and now here. I suspect there were plenty more in between." Chuck began to open the large wooden doors that led into the hillside as he talked over his shoulder. The door creaked open and Chuck stepped aside, gesturing with a flourish for Sarah to proceed. Sarah gave him a tight-lipped smile and entered the underground tunnel, which was just barely tall enough for her to walk into without ducking. Chuck hunched slightly and followed after, shining the flashlight from his cell phone over her shoulder to light the way.
Sarah kept thinking over Chuck's comment, hoping he wouldn't notice her lack of response. The truth of the matter was she had lived quite the life, though it was not nearly as glamorous as likely envisioned. She had been all over the world to countries too numerous to name, but that had all been for "work"; there had been no pleasure in it. On some level, she knew that the work she had done was necessary and had saved lives, but with all she'd done in the name of the "greater good", it had still made her feel hollow inside.
When she'd woken up one morning some months ago, having completed another successful mission the night before, she'd sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the aged wallpaper of her hotel room and she'd felt numb. She'd tried to recall how she'd gotten to that point, that moment in her life. There was a fog obfuscating her memories, only allowing flashes of death and destruction to show through. For so many years she'd lied, not just for her father or for the job, but also to herself. She was so skilled at it that she'd convinced herself that it was all okay. But all of the horrific things she'd done had slowly eaten away at her until she felt… nothing. For probably the first time in her adult life, she'd cried actual tears that morning. She'd cried for the little girl whose childhood had been taken from her, she'd cried for the relationships she'd lost or never had and she'd cried for the emptiness she felt inside. She knew at that moment she was done. She couldn't continue to be that person any longer.
As they walked into the darkness, the cool moist air began to envelope them and Sarah couldn't help but feel the symbolism in it all. She'd finally come in from the cold, found her way out of the darkness, but now she found herself literally walking back into it. Unlike before, this time she had someone to light her way. It was silly and maybe a little melodramatic to think of Chuck that way, but she couldn't help but feel that if she had any chance to succeed at this "normal" life, he might just be the guiding light she needed.
The short corridor opened up into a much larger space and Chuck stopped, feeling along the wall inside. With a loud snap, the amber glow of numerous light bulbs, which were mounted in cages in the ceiling of this vault, illuminated the space. The room was a large arc, the ceiling and walls made of bricks that looked to have seen many years of wear. Dozens of barrels of wine were stored in racks along the walls and another isle down the center of the room.
"So, this is it," Chuck spoke up, holding out his arms, gesture toward the many barrels.
"This is pretty impressive. Nature's own climate control," Sarah mused as she walked through the room, squinting to read the labeling in the barrels.
"Yeah, it's pretty cool. Uh, no pun intended," he snorted, shaking his head at himself. "They told me those markings on the barrels are a code. They use that in the journal where they keep all of the details of each barrel. They note whether the season was dry or rainy, the average temperature of that season, the soil conditions, that sort of thing. I guess it helps them understand how those things affect the flavor of the wine."
"I imagine the large wineries do much the same thing, but they probably use computers and digital instruments," Sarah speculated. "Not that I think they need it, but have they thought about modernizing?" she asked, turning around to look at Chuck.
"I don't think so," he shrugged, shaking his head. "I mean, if it's not broken…" he trailed off, the rest of the saying implied. Sarah bobbed her head side to side, conceding the point.
"That's true. The wine we had at lunch was no joke. If they created that from this," she stated, gesturing to the barrels stacked around them, "then I say don't mess with perfection." Both of them chuckled, Chuck nodding in agreement.
"If you're not too eager to go back home, I could use your hand with something. If you can't I totally understand. No pressure at all. I can-"
"Chuck!" Sarah bellowed, snapping him out of his spiraling. "If you'd give me a chance to respond…" she chided playfully. "I'm all yours. What do you need?" Chuck just stood there, blinking slowly with a dazed look on his face. She played the conversation over in her head, trying to figure out what it was that may have set him off, when it hit her. She just couldn't keep from stepping in it, could she? Every damn time she opened her mouth. Thankfully, Chuck shook himself from his daze and didn't make mention of her slip.
"Um… it's uh… it's this way," he gestured with his thumb over his shoulder, back the way they'd come in. Sarah nodded, making a hasty exit through the short tunnel, hoping to leave the awkwardness behind her. Chuck flicked off the lights and followed behind, closing and latching the doors behind him.
"It's just a few buildings over." He pointed back up the hill in the direction they'd come earlier. Leading the way, Chuck spared glances over his shoulder to make sure Sarah was till following. Once they'd made it up the hill and onto fairly level ground, Sarah stepped up to walk alongside him. She caught him looking at her a few times out of the corner of her eye, but she never called him out on it, instead thankful that whatever question he may have formulated in his head, he was keeping it to himself. She really didn't want to get into her past right now, but she also didn't want to be rude and blow him off either.
A short distance from the vineyards and the barns for the winery stood a larger barn, this one surrounded by fenced in fields of grass. The unmistakable sounds of animal life could be heard as they approached. Sarah was not completely ignorant of the workings of a farm, having spent some time in small farming communities when she was young and on the run with her father. Still, she was largely a city girl, so seeing farm animals still had a joyful novelty to it.
"OK. So, I lied a little," Chuck confessed, a sheepish grin on his face. "I don't really need any help, but I thought you might want to meet some friends of mine," he confessed as they drew closer to the barn.
Before Sarah could respond, a deep growl, followed by an imposing bark, emanated from inside the barn, startling her slightly. Not a moment later, an enormous white dog began to charge them, barking at them as he neared. Sarah looked between Chuck and the animal, uncertain what to expect. She'd encountered many dogs in her life, but most were either yippy "purse dogs" that insufferable socialites carried everywhere with them, or they were vicious trained attack dogs, bred to guard and protect. This mammoth dog looked to be nearing two-hundred pounds, though it was hard to tell with the thick white fur, and likely over two-feet tall at the shoulder. When she saw the beaming smile on Chuck's face, it set her more at ease, but she was still a bit unsure of what to expect.
With the dog nearly upon them, Sarah could see what looked like shoelaces hanging out of either side of it's large, gaping mouth. Her eyes grew wider with each passing second until Chuck extended his arm, pointing at the animal.
"Ahhhht," he scolded, giving the dog a very parent-like look of warning. Surprisingly, the dog skidded to a halt, closing the rest of the distance very slowly. It began to whine, whimper and moan, its head ducked and tail wagging furiously.
"You be nice to Miss Sarah… and no jumping or wiping your slobber all over her, OK?" It was like he was talking to a small child; sternly but without anger. There was even a hint of a tone that she could only describe as "baby talk". It was at that moment that the large beast fell down at her feet, rolling on its back to show her it's - well "his"- stomach, scratching at the air as he continued to whimper and groan. The sight was so sweet and adorable she didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Opting for the former, she chuckled at the dog, bending down to scratch his chest with one hand and pet the side of his face with the other.
"Awww. Aren't you just a sweet boy. Big ole mean Chuck yelling at you and all you wanted was some lovin', huh?" Hearing Chuck's gasp of faux indignation, she turned her head to look up at him, shooting him a grin with her tongue stuck between her teeth. His warm smile told her he'd taken the jab as the teasing joke she'd intended it to be. No sooner had she diverted her attention to Chuck, when the dog went into a small fit of jealousy, whining more emphatically, nuzzling her hand with his head in an effort to get even more affection.
"Oh my God. Milo, you're such a baby. You'd think they beat you around here, the way you act when company comes," Chuck playfully chided the dog.
"I bet it's true," Sarah stated, coming to Milo's defense. "You don't look like they feed you or anything, do they?" Chuck snorted at the absurdity of the comment. It was rather evident that this behemoth of a dog did not miss any meals. While his paw was larger than her hand and he could practically fit her head in his mouth, he looked a little on the heavy side. After a few moments of petting and baby talk, the whining subsided as the dog calmed down. Sarah stood to her full height and Milo joined her, happily wagging his tail and panting in front of her.
"Well, it seems you have a new friend for life," Chuck mused, chuckling at the anxious dog in front of them, whose front paws were practically dancing with anticipation. "OK, go show her around Milo. Go on," Chuck commanded, waving his hand dismissively. With that, the dog spun and started lumbering toward the barn, pausing to look back to see if they were following. When Milo stopped and stared expectantly back at her, Sarah looked to Chuck for guidance. He just chuckled even more and gestured for her to go ahead. Once she began to follow after Milo, the dog turned toward the barn again, leading the way. Chuck followed behind them at a leisurely pace, bringing up the rear.
Once in the large wood and stone barn, she could see a number of pens on either side. Some of the pens were vacant at the moment, but the pen that Milo was standing in front of was a bustle of activity. Half a dozen small lambs were playing in the straw covered pen while four larger sheep, which she assumed were their mothers, watched on. The lambs seemed to take great interest in Milo, who was sticking his nose between the wooden slats of the pen, giving them all a good sniff.
"Awwww," Sarah cooed, bending down to get a closer look at the lambs. "They're adorable!" The ewes took interest in the new visitor, stepping closer to the fence to investigate but keeping out of arm's reach.
"You can pet them, if you like," Chuck encouraged, pointing at the lambs that were jockeying for position in front of Sarah. "Their mothers might bleat at you, but they're harmless."
"Bleat?" Sarah asked incredulously, her chin pressed to her chest in confusion.
"Yeah. You know. The 'baaa' sound they make? That's called bleating." Sarah nodded her understanding, giving him a tight smile. "And just for the record, I didn't know what the term for it was either. I made a point of looking it up after some of the farm hands got a good laugh at my expense." Chuck gave a shrug, looking slightly embarrassed. That seemed to put Sarah more at ease, causing her to giggle at his confession. Accepting his invitation, she pet the lambs through the fence, trying to give all of them equal treatment. Some were more demanding than others, pushing their pen mates aside for extra helpings of affection.
'So are these all for… y-you know…" Sarah trailed off looking apprehensive, making the universal slashing motion across her neck with her finger.
"Oh! No," Chuck rushed out, waving her off. "Well, some maybe, but mostly they help with the vineyard." Seeing Sarah's eyebrow raise in question, Chuck continued, "It's a great symbiotic relationship. The sheep graze in the vineyards, keeping the weeds down, preventing them from strangling the grape vines. In turn, they also fertilize the soil by… well, you know, doing what they … do. Anyway, they also provide wool when they're shorn in the spring. These guys here are new additions to the flock. Once they're old enough, they and their mothers will join the rest of the flock out in the fields."
"So, there are more?" Sarah asked in surprise.
"Oh, yeah. There're about thirty sheep in the flock right now, I think. They're out in one of the pastures now. They share the pasture with the cows when they aren't in the vineyards," Chuck offered, leaning against one of the large support beams in the barn.
"Sheep and cows? What other animals do they have here?" Sarah asked, standing up and brushing her hands off on her pants legs.
"Well, Milo here, he protects the flock from wolves, wild dogs, boars and the very, very remote chance of a bear. There're chickens, although those are mostly kept by each family as needed for eggs and meat. They do venture out into the vineyards and help with bugs sometimes though. And lastly, we have Corey and Kevin," Chuck stated, gesturing to the pen across from the sheep. Curiously, Sarah peered into the pen, stepping closer to get a better look. Sleeping in the corner of the pen were two large pigs.
Sarah burst into laughter at the sight, turning to Chuck, giving him a "what the hell" look. "They named the pigs Corey and Kevin?"
"Mmm, well … that was more my doing. I don't think they have names for them, so I took it upon myself," he chuckled, recognizing the humor in it.
"Ok, but why Corey and Kevin?" she asked, shaking her head in bewilderment.
"Corey 'Ham" and Kevin 'Bacon', of course," Chuck proclaimed, looking very proud of himself. Sarah burst into laughter again, before looking up at the ceiling and groaning.
"Oh, that is soooo bad. It's funny though," she admitted.
"Yeah, well. I'm a funny guy," he confessed in a teasing tone.
"That you are," she stated, sobering slightly. 'Which is good, because I am definitely not funny."
"Ahhh. There it is. See? I was wondering when the shoe was gonna drop," Chuck exclaimed, pointing at Sarah as he continued, stepping up beside her. "You seem so perfect, I was wondering what was wrong with you. I was thinking either you're a cannibal, fleeing here to escape persecution, or you're just not funny. To be honest, I was kind of hoping for cannibal, 'cause I've never met one. Or if I have, I never knew it. Maybe they didn't find me appetizing. I'm not sure how I feel about that..." Chuck trailed off, rubbing his chin as if contemplating.
Sarah barked out another laugh, shaking her head at Chuck's joking. "No. Sorry to disappoint you. Not a cannibal. And as nice as it is for you to say, I am the furthest thing from perfect. Believe me, I come with a ton of baggage," Sarah confessed, huffing out a sigh as she diverted her attention to her shoes.
"Well, I could be your very own baggage handler," Chuck offered without missing a beat. Sarah's head shot up in surprise at his statement, seeing a similar look of surprise on Chuck's face. His expression turned into a wince, as he closed his eyes, shaking his head. Making a circular motion near his head, he groaned in response. "That sounded… a lot different in my head. I'm-"
Struck by the sincerity of his offer, Sarah reached out and placed her hand on his arm instinctually. "That was very sweet. Thank you," she said in a warm, appreciative tone.
'Sweet?" he asked incredulously, chuckling at the words. "Thanks. Now I feel like I'm eight and the babysitter I've been mooning over just patted me on the head." Chuck's expression changed to one of absolute mortification, as the color began to grow in his neck, cheeks and ears. "Oh, God. Not… not that I'm mooning… You know what, I'm just going to shut the hell up before I embarrass myself any further - if such a thing's even possible."
Sarah couldn't hold back her laughter, the endearing awkwardness of it all taking her so utterly by surprise, she didn't know what else to do. Chuck was unlike any man she had ever known. His openness and ability to show his feelings, even if he showed more than he intended, was so new and refreshing. All of her past relationships with men had been ones of … convenience; scratching an itch as it were. The only one that had lasted more than a few lust-filled hours had been her partner, and that had been a spectacular failure.
Sarah had never gotten to experience the awkward "courtship" rituals that went along with meeting, and potentially dating, a man; her lifestyle had never allowed for it. She imagined this was what it might feel like. The butterflies in her stomach, the sweaty palms and this inexplicable giddy feeling that was suffusing her were all new and slightly frightening experiences. This was all happening so fast that she knew she needed to take a step back to formulate some sort of game plan. Meeting someone, especially someone like Chuck, hadn't been in her plans, at all. This was supposed to be a time to regroup and reflect; take some time for herself for a change. She had always been following someone else's agenda, letting others call the shots in her life, and this was supposed to be her first taste of freedom from that old life. To jump into any kind of relationship so soon she knew would be a huge mistake. How could she be open and honest with someone else, when she couldn't even do that for herself? Sarah definitely needed a plan.
First, she needed to try and ease the tension in the air. Chuck looked even more embarrassed now that she had laughed out loud at his faux pas. She legitimately felt bad because she could see that he was trying so hard, yet failing so spectacularly at some points. As much as she'd put her foot in her mouth when talking with him, Chuck had seemed to perfect the art.
"I'm sorry for laughing, but please, just take the 'sweet' comment as the complement it was intended and let's just leave it at that. OK?" she asked, looking up at him through her lashes. While she was well skilled in the art of seduction, she didn't need to pull out the big guns when it came to Chuck. With him, less was more. An innocent batting of her eyelashes, a soft smile and she could easily grab his attention. She wasn't trying to control him, as such, but rather attempting to put him at ease. Thankfully, it seemed to work. He gave her a half smile, nodding his head.
Chuck glanced at his watch and his eyes widened slightly. "I didn't realize the time. I've dragged you all over the place today. I imagine you're ready to be rid of me for the day," he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.
"No! Not at all," she chided, giving him a pouty, disapproving look. "I've had a great time. Truly. But I suppose it is about time I head back." Chuck nodded his understanding with a tight-lipped smile. Chuck and Sarah said their goodbyes to the animals and began their walk back to her villa. Chuck had to instruct Milo to go back to the barn several times as the dopey dog tried to follow after them. Back over the hills and up the pathway, Chuck led them to the gate to Sarah's yard, bringing the trip full circle.
"Thanks again for a great day, Chuck. It was more fun than I've had in a long, long time," she confessed, smiling up at him as she fidgeted with the stem of a wildflower that she'd picked on their way back.
"I'm really glad. I had a great day too, despite having my foot in my mouth most of the afternoon," he joked, giving her an exaggerated wide-eyed expression. They both chuckled, looking away from one another. "Well, I'll let you go. Have a good night. Call me if you need me." Chuck closed his eyes and sighed, his shoulder slumping slightly. Sarah couldn't help but snicker, which turned into a snort the more she tried to suppress it. He opened his eyes, rolling them at himself with a small smile.
"If you have any problems... you have my number." With that, he backed away, giving her a kind smile and a small wave. Sarah returned both and watched him turn and disappear between the hedgerows. It really had been a great day. It was only her second day in her new rental and already she'd felt her world was changing for the better. Unfortunately, life had taught her that when something seemed too good to be true, it usually was. That was why she needed to keep her head on straight and come up with a plan of how to approach things with Chuck. But for now, they were… they were friends, and that was more than she could have hoped for.
A/N2: Chuck and Sarah seemed to have an enjoyable afternoon. Perhaps a glimmer of something growing between them? Time will tell. OK, let's not kid ourselves. We all know that's where things are heading, but it's never that simple, is it?
From my understanding, Italy takes balsamic vinegar very seriously. Three types of balsamic (Traditional Balsamic Vinegar of Modena, Traditional Balsamic Vinegar of Reggio Emilia and Balsamic Vinegar of Modena) are protected by the government, requiring that they meet certain standards of quality in addition to ensuring they are sourced only from grapes grown in those respective regions. These protected balsamics are considered by many to be the best in the world. Balsamic vinegar can be made elsewhere in Italy (and around the world) but they cannot use these protected names.
Thanks for your support for this story. I'm pleased that so many of you have enjoyed it. I love to read your comments on the story, so please keep the reviews and PMs coming.
Stay well and be safe.
Joe