Still, he is so little he’s easy to scrub, even though he thrashes about dramatically like I’m trying my best to drown him. I ease him out and dry him off with a towel, but he soon escapes and shakes out his fur, scurrying straight off to the nearest patch of volcanic earth to tumble in. ‘You little …’
It’s of no matter. I replenish the tub with fresh water and give the other dogs a bath. The peanut butter works a treat. That only leaves me with Houdini who thinks he’s in charge. I give my foe a beady-eyed stare that says:you won’t mess with me. Not today, Satan. Houdini holds my stare, not backing down as I smother more peanut butter on the plastic wrap on my forehead. I’m sweating. I’m not sure if it’s from being covered in plastic or the physical nature of this mission. ‘Come on, boy! Do you want another treat?’ He inches slowly towards me, a flinty look in his eye that suggests he’s not going to make this easy.
I drop to my knees and lean down so he can smell the peanut butter. As I go to grab him, he somehow loosens the plastic wrap and is off with it, leaving a trail of slimy peanut butter across my forehead. How? That dog has superhuman abilities! I chase him this way and that, yelling for him to stop. ‘Houdini! You stink worse than a garbage can. Now get over here right this minute!’
Soon the other dogs join in, jumping in front of him when I get close. Their defence is on point and I can’t begrudge them that, but I do because this is taking a lot longer than it needs to. I change tack and pretend to walk away. I sense he’s slinking up on me because that’s what he does. Just as I’m about to turn and snatch him up, there’s a twang of the gate unlatching. Good, Gran can help me wrestle him into the bath.
‘Gran …’ Oh God no. Why, universe? Why do you disrespect me so? Just when I resemble a space man with a peanut butter forehead, he appears. It’s almost like fate wants me to appear deranged. My only option is to roll with it. ‘Georgios, welcome.’ I’m meant to woo this guy so somehow I have to make this look … sexy? Is that even possible? I throw a hand on my hip and pop it. That should do it. ‘Don’t mind me, I’m just bathing the dogs.’ I give him a sweet toothy smile that implies all is well and I’m a woman of many talents.
‘In a space suit and goggles?’
‘The canines are covered in a smell that will outlast human civilisation. This attire is necessary, trust me.’
‘Right.’ He appears unseduced.Glaringlyunseduced if his frown is anything to go by. I pout, puffing my lips. What the bloody hell do heroines actually do that I can mimic? The batting of lashes won’t work with goggles on.
‘What’s all over your forehead?’ His mouth twists as if he’s tasted something sour. Hmm, my hip popping must need more work but what else is there?
‘It’s peanut butter.’
He laughs, but it’s more of a strangled sound than one of pure joy. His gaze darts about as if he’s looking for an escape route. ‘Why?’
‘I’m having a little trouble convincing Houdini to bathe. He’s quite the nimble sort. TikTok suggested this as a distraction method. It worked for the other dogs.’ How dare he make me explain myself like this! As if he doubts my method. Mysoundmethod.
‘I see.’ He rubs his chin as his lips quiver, either with held-in laughter or outright fear. Hard to tell. I get that a lot. ‘Could you not have layered peanut butter along the edge of the tub itself?’
Damn it.Thanks for nothing, TikTok.‘Do you always saunter in with solutionsafterthe fact?’ I bristle. No one likes a smarty-pants.
He grins as if I’ve said something funny. Does he not understand that I just cut him to the quick? ‘I saunter?’
‘That’s what you took from that sentence?’ Oh the ego on him! It’s to be expected but still.
He fans out his hands in apology as if he’s expecting to be forgiven for being self-absorbed. Just how am I supposed to woo him when he’s clearly in the midst of the greatest love affair of his life.With himself.
‘Sorry. I just thought I had more of a lope than a saunter.’
Is that some fake sort of humble? ‘What, like a horse?’
At that real laugher bubbles from his lips. Even his laugh is attractive, which is irritating. ‘Wouldn’t that be more of a canter?’
I roll my eyes and hope he can see the gesture even though my goggles appear to be fogging up. ‘Are you always so contrary?’
He presses his lips together as if biting back yet another unnecessary retort that will only prolong this tedious conversation. How am I supposed to fake-date this guy? We’ll be back and forth forever arguing about semantics. It’s one way to pass the time, I guess.
‘Sorry,’ he repeats.
‘As well you should be.’
‘OK, well I’ll pop back later when you’re not so … indisposed.’
He gives me a wave and is out the gate before I can think to ask what his visit was in aid of. And, I mentally face-palm, wasn’t I supposed to ask him on a date? Sow the seeds of a faux romance? Well, it’s not exactly my fault he came out all guns blazing.
I blow out a breath and turn to find Houdini having the time of his life in the tub, splashing and gambolling as if he hasn’t spent the last hour avoiding it. I’m sure he winks at me. Can dogs wink?
*
After showering and changing into non-plastic attire I call Penelope. ‘Hey, Evie! How is sunny Santorini?’
‘Hot.’
