“I once saw Princess Anne whilst tractor shopping.”

“You were tractor shopping? Or she was?”

“She was! Pure dead brilliant lady.”

“She does seem really cool,” I say, thinking of how she rode horseback, in full military regalia, to both her mother’s funeral and her brother’s coronation. “So are you here with friends?”

He nods. “Yes. I’m here with my good mate Ian, but he’s absolutely stocious at the moment—”

“Stocious?”

“Minced. Pished. Sloshed.” He grins, gesturing toward his beer. “Currently sleeping it off back at our hotel.”

“Ahh,” I say, smiling. “That’s unfortunate.”

“And why’s that?” he asks.

“Because my friend Lainey might want to meet him,” I say with a slight head tilt and strategic smile. My flirting skills are rusty, but not nonexistent.

He smiles back at me, then asks what we’re doing this evening.

“No plans yet,” I say. “You?”

“We’re going to Lanterna Verde. A piano bar up in Anacapri. You and your friends should come.”

“Maybe we will.”

“Okay. Well, I’ll let you get back to them,” he says.

I nod. “Yes. I better do that.”

“In case you can’t make it tonight, here’s my number,” he says, handing me a business card. “I’d love to see you again.”

I take it and smile, feeling a rush. “Me too,” I say.

—

“Go, Hannah!” Lainey says when I get back to the table. “Give us the scoop!”

“There’s really no scoop,” I say with a shrug.

“What’s his story?”

“His name is Archie. And he’s Scottish.”

“Well, that’s adorable. Does he own a kilt?”

“Darn it,” I say, snapping my fingers. “I forgot to ask. Maybe we’ll find out tonight.”

“What’s happening tonight?” she asks, while Tyson stares off in the distance.

“He suggested we meet up. He’s here with a friend.”

“I didn’t see a friend,” Lainey says. “Wasn’t he eating alone?”

“The friend is hungover,” I say. “Back at their hotel.”

“Oh, so he’s fun!” Lainey says, rubbing her palms together.

“Or maybe he’s just an alcoholic,” Tyson mutters.

Lainey ignores him and announces that she’s proud of me.

“For what?” I ask.

“For getting back on your horse!”

“Well, I’m not sure about any horse.” I smile. “But it did feel good to flirt a bit.”

“So. What else did he tell you about his friend? Is he hot, too?” Lainey asks.

“Shoot.” I snap my fingers. “Didn’t ask that, either.”

“My prediction?” Lainey says.

“What’s that?” I ask, already amused.

She puts both thumbs down, shakes her head, and says, “A guy that fine always has a sloppy sidekick.”

I laugh, picturing Zach Galifianakis in the Hangover movies. “But they’re usually funny.”

“Good point,” Lainey says. “And besides, I can work with just about anything.”

—

After lunch, the sky turns cloudy, and nobody is in the mood for the beach. Lainey insists on a taxi back to the hotel, and this time, Tyson doesn’t balk. He is quiet on the ride home, and the second we walk in the room, he changes into workout clothes.

“Where are you going?” I ask him.

“For a run,” he says.

“Where?” I ask, thinking that Capri’s hilly terrain and narrow roadways aren’t well suited for running.

“Gym treadmill,” he says, putting his AirPods in his ears, then looking down at his phone.

“Okay. Have a good workout,” I say.

He nods and says thanks, walking out the door.