Willow skipped along the footpath on her way to the market, humming a mix of songs that popped into her head. It was a game she played with her family as a child when they went on long car trips – each person took turns to sing about the first thing they saw. Sure, it was a bit Brady Bunch, but fun nevertheless. Today she was covering a variety of songs – some real, some invented – about cars, coffee and young girls with too few clothes on. She couldn’t quite put her finger on why she was in such a ridiculously chipper mood. Perhaps it was the sunshine? Melbourne had been subject to the wettest summer on record, but now that autumn had arrived it was an uncharacteristically beautiful week of weather.

Crossing Victoria Street, Willow decided to start at the top end of the market and work her way down, through the fruit and vegetables to the deli section. She and Mia had planned to spend that night at home watching girly DVDs, drinking wine and eating good food. Willow was on the hunt for Mia-friendly ingredients – fresh fruit and vegetables, legumes and pulses. Although Willow tended to favour the Nigella Lawson approach to cooking – the more cream and butter, the better – she had gained an appreciation for Mia’s simple, fresh dishes.

The market was positively bustling. The good weather had attracted thousands of tourists and locals alike, and Willow had to elbow her way through the throng of people to even get in the entrance. Halfway down one of the aisles she found a stall that sold nuts, dried fruit and legumes. She paused to look at the wide variety of pulses and grains, all beautifully displayed in large, clear sacks with the tops rolled down. Unable to resist the colourful temptations, she stocked up on cannellini beans, kidney beans, chickpeas and quinoa.

As she was receiving her change from the stall-owner, a surge of people jostled past, knocking her bag to the ground. Without stopping to help, they continued their way down the narrow aisle. Annoyed, Willow bent to collect her scattered purchases, hoping to save them before they became engulfed by the crowds. A group of tourists, busy looking at their guidebooks, knocked her off balance and she found herself being bumped and buffeted by what felt like thousands of feet. She shouted out in pain as someone stood on her hand, whilst another person kicked her in the calf.

“Watch out!” An angry man with a red face glared at her, before knocking her roughly in the side of the head with his shopping bag.

Like the end of an old movie, everything around her started to fade to black. She wondered if anyone would notice if she lay on the ground for a minute to get her bearings. Suddenly, she felt a strong pair of arms lift her clean off the ground and place her squarely on her feet.

“Are you OK?” His voice was deep and he had a strong Italian accent.

Willow turned towards the voice and found herself staring into the face of the most gorgeous man she had ever seen. His skin was tanned and he had a thick mop of jet-black hair that flopped over his forehead. Long, dark lashes framed his dark brown eyes and a chiselled nose led her gaze to his sumptuous lips.

Willow’s own lips parted in a silent “Oh!” and she proceeded to drop the bag of cannellini beans she had just salvaged from the floor.

“Are you hurt, Bella?” He bent to retrieve the beans from the floor, not taking his eyes off her face for a second.

Willow was not shy by nature, but this man – this beautiful man – had rendered her speechless. Taking her elbow, he propelled her through the crowd to a small café at the edge of the market.

“Sit,” he commanded before disappearing inside. He returned minutes later with a strong espresso – to which he added a generous spoon of sugar – and a plastic bag with ice in it.

He handed her the cup. “Drink.”

Willow obliged. The sugar and caffeine woke her out of her daze and she realised that she was shaking. Her leg ached where it had been kicked, her hand was already swollen and her head throbbed. She gingerly rubbed the side of her face, feeling a lump already starting to form where she had been hit.

I must look awful, she thought, groaning inwardly.

“Here.”

He gave her the bag of ice and she pressed it gently to her head, wincing as the cold touched her skin. After a few minutes the pain had subsided and she became very conscious that the Adonis who had rescued her was still there. She stood up with the intention of thanking him for his help and demonstrating that she was much better, however, as she did, the colour drained from her face and the dizziness returned.

He laughed, taking her arm and guiding her back to her seat. “I think you need to sit for a bit longer.”

She made a vague attempt at protesting. “I have to prepare dinner for tonight…”

“You are cooking for your boyfriend? Husband?” he enquired with mock innocence.

“Oh no!” Willow shook her head vehemently, not caring about the pain. “My housemate.”

He grinned at her. “Wait here. I’ll be back in 10 minutes.”

***

When the man returned he was carrying a box overflowing with brightly coloured fruit and vegetables: leeks, rhubarb, crispy apples, aubergine, zucchini and large field mushrooms as big as dinner plates! He loaded everything into her shopping bags – refusing to accept reimbursement – making sure that they weren’t too heavy for her to carry home.

He handed her a folded piece of paper. “A recipe. For your dinner tonight.”

She hesitated before accepting the note.

He laughed at her uncertainty. “I can cook, you know.”

As she placed the recipe in her bag, his phone rang. He glanced at the screen before pressing the answer button and saying to the caller “Un momento.”

Covering the mouthpiece he said to Willow, “I’m here every Saturday. Just over there.” He indicated towards the far left corner. “Come and tell me how the meal was, yes?”

Willow nodded.

Taking her hand in his, he bent and softly kissed it – his lips feather-light on her skin – before being swallowed up again by the masses. She thought she heard him call out “Ciao, Bella” over the noise but when her eyes scanned the crowd, he was gone.

***

Closing the front door behind her, Willow sank back against the wood, beaming.

Mia poked her head out from the kitchen. “I got Dirty Dancing and Centre Stage to watch tonight. I thought…” she trailed off.

Willow was somewhere else, a radiant glow emanating from her whole being.

Mia laughed and shook her head. She knew that look! “What’s his name?” she teased.

“I have no idea.” Willow said breathlessly. “Oh, Mia. I think I’m in love!”