Salvatore DiMarco / Diego Rossi
We landed in Montana. Tessa, our real estate agent, would meet us in a coffee shop in town, and then we would follow her in our rental truck. We will need to buy a couple of vehicles to get around, and Sandro, aka. Santi… was excited to buy a motorbike.
“I think I like this assignment,” he smirked, and I rolled my eyes.
“The agent is hot…” he said, checking the social media of the woman we were meeting, and I rolled my eyes again.
“We are here for a completely different reason than for you to find a hook-up buddy,” I grunted, and he laughed.
“Hey, it's been months since I got some, let me dream of it…” he pouted, and I slapped him on the back of his head. He was so excited about coming to the US. Perhaps it was that he barely left Italy, or when he
