Kade adjusts the guitar hanging from a strap across his shoulder and clenches a leather-bound journal in his hand. Part of me hopes he'll walk away like usual, but the part that wants him to stay speaks up.

"Do you want to sit with me? Nonna packed a huge lunch, and there's no way I'm going to eat all this by myself."

Kade's gaze darts around the orchard before he removes his guitar and takes a seat across from me. I open the basket and dig out slices of bread, cheese, and apples. My fingers connect with the smooth glass of a bottle and I peer into the basket. It's wine. I shake my head, opting for the bottles of water instead.

The dresses, the book, and this overstuffed picnic basket—Nonna is up to no good.

"Romeo and Juliet?" Kade says picking up the book and flipping through it. I stare at his long fingers turning each page. There is a masculine grace to them, and they have me imagining what it would feel like if he cupped my cheek and ran his thumb over my lips.

"Ariella?"

I lift my gaze. "Sorry, what did you say?"

"I said, it's a little cliché being in Italy and all. You know...the book." He holds it up and smiles.

I take a deep breath and roll my shoulders. "I know, but Nonna packed it in the basket, and it's the only source of entertainment I have right now."

Kade pops a cube of cheese into his mouth and says, "So, Ariella James? I'm guessing that's why they call you A.J.?"

My eyes widen; he remembers Nonna using my full name this morning. "Yes." Silence falls between us, leaving me playing with the bread on my plate. It becomes too much, my mind goes places it shouldn't, so I explain, "My mom was sure I'd be a boy; she even convinced my father. Mom refused an ultrasound because she said it would be a waste of time, but Nonna told them they were wrong. Despite her warning, Mom and Dad started calling me James. And my grandmother was right...as always. My parents thought it would be some kind of shock to not call me James, so it became my middle name." I take a sip of water; my throat is dry from telling the entire story in like three seconds. My nerves are out of control.

"What about you? What's your middle name?"

He smiles, and my heart melts. "Edward."

"Kade Edward," I say in an English accent. "That is very proper. It sounds like the name of royalty."

"Your English accent is horrendous."

My mouth drops open in a fake display of offense. "Like you can do any better."

"I, dear Ariella, have spent countless hours perfecting my English accent. Thank you very much," he says with a posh accent and a smug smile.

"Is there anything you can't do well?"

"Maybe, but a gentleman never reveals his secrets." He bites into an apple and winks.

Heavens help me, there is the charm everyone talks about. It's so easy to forget all the uncomfortable moments we've had when he's like this. I wish it were always this simple; I'd love to be friends with this Kade.

"Your parents sound like they have a great sense of humor; tell me about them," he says, laying on his side.

Not knowing where to start, I pick at a loose string on the blanket and gather my thoughts. "My mom grew up here in Italy. She came to America as a foreign exchange student when she was nineteen. She and Dad met in college, fell in love the minute they laid eyes on each other, and they married six months later. They were so in love...just perfect for each other."

Kade leans up on his elbow. "Were? Something happened?"

I nod and quietly say, "She passed away a few years ago from breast cancer."

"I'm sorry," he says, looking straight at me. The light in his brown eyes shifts with genuine sadness.

"Thank you." Sometimes the best thing someone can do is not over-complicate my mom's passing. A simple acknowledgment of her existence is enough.

He picks up the discarded Shakespeare play. "You know, this was made to be read in an English accent."

"Really?" I grin, thankful for the change of subject. "And you think you can do it justice?"

"Yes. I've heard that it multiplies its romantic effects when properly read out loud."

"Okay, Kade Edward, lay it on me, and I'll be the judge of your theory."

I lean against the tree trunk and watch as he lies on his side with the book opened next to him. His focus on the pages gives me the opportunity to examine him up close. The way he moves his mouth, his fingers gliding over the words, and the stubborn strand of hair that falls to his eye. It doesn't take a genius to figure out why people all over the world fall in love with Kade Slone.

An hour later, Kade has thoroughly made his point. Romeo and Juliet was meant to be read in an English accent...or maybe just by Kade.

We walk through the orchard together. He carries his guitar and the basket, and I cling to the blanket and book. His close presence has a strange effect on me, it's like being anxious but tranquil at the same time. The mixture of emotions is almost intoxicating.

"Kade..."

"Ariella..."

We laugh at the sound of our names said in unison.

"You go first," I say.

He brushes the loose strand from his forehead. "I was going to ask if you wanted to have lunch again tomorrow."

I bump him with my hip. "Are you going to finish reading Romeo and Juliet to me? I think I need a little more evidence to convince me of your theory."

"Absolutely, but only if you bring lunch."

I take the basket from his hand. "You have a deal, Mr. Slone."