A Woman Got Separated from Her Tour, Not Knowing the Millionaire Tourist Would Fall for Her
Lost in Ravello
Belle Whitmore realized she was completely alone the moment the tour bus disappeared behind the curve of the Amalfi cliffs.
“Oh no, no, no, no,” she muttered, spinning in a slow circle on the cobblestone street. She was gripping her guidebook like it was a lifeline.
“They said ten minutes.”
She had wandered off to take a picture of a cat lounging on a Vespa, of all things. Now her group was gone, and her phone was dead. Her Italian was limited to “Ciao” and “Grazie.”
Her hotel address was in the backpack that had been left on the bus. This was not part of the plan. She had saved for this trip for two years. This day was supposed to be the highlight: Ravello, the town of music and mountains.
Instead, she was stranded.
“Are you all right?”
The voice came from behind her, deep, smooth, and distinctly American. Belle turned to find a man standing a few feet away. He was tall and dark-haired, with aviators pushed up on top of his head.
His linen shirt was rolled up at the sleeves. His accent was American, but his energy screamed something else entirely: confident and composed. He looked like he had never gotten lost a day in his life.
“I lost my tour group,” she said, trying not to sound as panicked as she felt.
The man stepped closer. “Well, that’s inconvenient. Want help finding them?”
She hesitated. “You don’t have to.”
“I’m Colton Vale,” he said, offering his hand. “I’m also a tourist, and I was just about to head toward the main piazza anyway. Safety in numbers.”
Belle shook his hand. He had a firm grip and warm skin.
“Belle,” she replied. “And yeah, okay, thanks.”
They walked side by side down the narrow path that wound between stone buildings and lemon trees. The heat clung to her skin. The scent of citrus and sea breeze swirled in the air.
He didn’t ask too many questions. He just made a few casual observations about the town. He pointed out a bell tower and a little bakery tucked between two staircases.
“You’re not from around here,” she finally said, glancing at him.
“Nope. New York. I come to Italy once a year.”
“Once a year? Must be nice. You travel a lot?” she asked.
He nodded nonchalantly. “Yeah, work keeps me moving.”
“What do you do?”
He paused. “Real estate investment side.”
Belle didn’t press; she didn’t need to know the details. He was just a kind stranger helping her get back on track. They reached the piazza, and Belle scanned the crowd. There was no sign of the red umbrellas her group carried.
She dug into her tote bag again. There was no charger, no map, and no wallet. She cursed under her breath. Still no luck.
Colton asked gently.
“I’m officially the dumbest traveler alive,” she muttered.
He smiled, not in a mocking way, but like he was genuinely amused. “You’re not dumb. You’re just having a memorable experience.”
“I’d rather have a boring one with gelato right now,” she sighed.
“Well,” he gestured toward the tiny cafe on the corner, “that I can help with.”
She blinked. “You’re serious?”
“Completely.”
He bought her a double scoop of pistachio and lemon sorbetto without blinking at the price or asking her to pay him back. They sat on the edge of a fountain, watching children chase pigeons. A man nearby strummed a guitar.
“You travel alone often?” he asked.
Belle shrugged. “First time. It was supposed to be this solo, ‘find-yourself’ adventure. So far, I found a sunburn, a lost backpack, and the world’s most expensive gelato.”
Colton laughed, a warm, easy sound that made her stomach flip unexpectedly. “What were you hoping to find?”
“I don’t know. Something different. Life’s been the same for a long time.”
He nodded like he understood. They spent the next hour wandering the town. He showed her a hidden garden he’d stumbled on earlier that morning and a viewpoint that looked out over the sea.
She forgot briefly that she was lost. It wasn’t until they reached a boutique near the edge of town that Belle’s stomach dropped. Her tour group! She saw them through the glass, clustered by the jewelry counter.
She turned to Colton, suddenly reluctant. “I think that’s them,” she said quietly.
He followed her gaze and nodded. “Looks like you’re saved.”
She offered him a small smile. “Thank you. Really. I don’t know what I would have done.”
“Dinner?”
She blinked. “What?”
“You can thank me by having dinner with me tonight.”
Belle stared at him, her heart thudding in her chest. “You’re serious?”
“I’m not the type to let a beautiful woman wander back into her group without at least trying to see her again.”
She tried to think of something clever to say. Her mouth opened, then closed again.
“Yes,” she said.
“Finally.”
“Okay, dinner,” he grinned. “I’ll meet you here at 7:00. Don’t get lost this time.”
She watched him walk away down the street, his shirt fluttering slightly in the breeze. For a moment, she forgot all about the lost backpack, the missed bus, and the hours of panic.
Somehow, the most unexpected day of her life had just become the one she couldn’t stop smiling about.
