Asthma?‘What?’
‘Your voice, it sounds like you can’t catch your breath. Are you OK? Did you jog here?’
Jog here? What does he take me for! Concern is etched on his features. Doesn’t the fool know whatbreathysounds like? I don a coy smile and flutter my lashes yet again. ‘Beauu-tiful day.’
His face scrunches with worry. ‘Shall I call Floretta?’
Oh for crying out loud! I drop the act. Clearly my lack of preparation is hindering this archetype. I’m not sure where to go from here. I’m not exactly well versed on the art of seduction, in real life at least. Why couldn’t I have swiped a bit of make-up on? It surely would have helped him join the dots of me to Marilyn. Put it down to yet another rookie error by me. You live and learn.
‘Evie,’ he says. ‘Should I call her? You could be suffering from sunstroke, dehydration …’
‘That won’t be necessary.’ The man makes me feel slightly unhinged and by the worry written all over his face, he recognises that. ‘Mind if I sit down for a moment?’
‘Of course. But … aren’t you my sworn enemy?’
I bristle but manage to hide it. ‘I’ve forgiven you for taking back the gift of loukoumades, if that’s what you mean?’ Whodoesthat? What kind of family are they? After a little old lady for some rent money, and he reneges on a dessert offering too. Not to mention all his dog-bathing blustering.
That grin of his is back. ‘Sorry, thatwasrude of me. It’s only that I find this whole situation so frustrating. For the first time in years I’ve taken a sabbatical from work and came back to visit, only to be embroiled in this drama. I’ve never met two people as headstrong as my grandfather and Floretta. It’s crazy.’
That, I do understand. My bookshop vacay has also been snatched away on this ridiculous mission. Perhaps that’s a way in with him?
We can trauma-bond.
‘I feel the same. I’ve been sent here by my overbearing family to make sure Gran is OK. They always coddle and underestimate her, not seeing the formidable woman she really is. Although I suppose their worriesarevalid, in this instance, since she hasn’t paid the rent and all.’
And she owes money to tradespeople in town, but I keep that to myself. I figure Gran wouldn’t want me to go behind her back and let that slip. ‘What are you taking a sabbatical from?’ I ask.
He picks up the book, a Lucy Strike mafia romantic suspense. Interesting choice. It’s a genre-bender, in that it’s got a bit of everything: drama, thriller, romance and a killer plot. Killer as in everyone usually dies,eventhe killer.
‘I’m in publishing. Editorial. Orwas, I should say. There was a scandal with one of our authors. I said my piece about why he needed to go, and I’m no longer gainfully employed. You?’
‘Book scout. Recently made redundant because superhero movies are more important than romcoms,allegedly.’
We size each other up. Gran never mentioned he worked in publishing. And he’s jobless too for a skirmish that doesn’t seem to be of his making. I’m dying to know what the scandal with the author was about, but I’m not the prying kind. Not when I can use Google and save having to outright ask.
I feel a frisson … of something. Maybe this fake-dating farce will be a little more fun than first expected. Anyone who enjoys the shape of words is good in my book. I get lost in a daydream staring at him. The new improved idea of him, that is. Perhaps I can look past his overt hotness?
Eventually he says, ‘Floretta is a real character. She’s only been in Santorini a short time and yet her name is on everyone’s lips.’
‘That’s Gran. The life and soul of the party. I do hope Yannis will give her some time to get her finances in order. They might become friends – you never know.’
Georgios shoots me a look that conveys he doesn’t think friendship between them is on the cards, but he doesn’t know Gran very well. She can turn up the charm when she needs to. We lapse into silence. I wish I could fall back on my witty repartee, but I lack that particular social skill as well. My stomach clenches. I have to ask him on a date but how does one go about such things? Just blurt it out or wait for a lead-in to it?
‘Would you like to have dinner Friday night? We could start with sunset cocktails at the beach bar?’ he says. ‘I’d love to hear more about your work as a book scout.’
I’m stunned silent. A real-life guy just asked me to dinner and cocktails. I’m not exactly an expert on non-fictional men. My past relationships have tended to be short-lived mainly because they talked too much and too often, or they had some huge flaw I couldn’t get past, like saying romance novels are formulaic and predictable, thus implying not of any literary note or some other such nonsense. No one needs to live with that sort of narrow-minded negativity.
But this is one for the books. He asked me out and not the other way around …! All the tension I’m holding tight evaporates.
I’ve left my answer too long and struggle to kick my brain into gear. ‘I could eat.’ Can’t look too hard in his direction to study him because it’s like looking directly into the sun. This kind of intensity is exhausting.
He laughs as he stands and shakes the sand out of his towel, and I will my gaze to remain on his face and not on his sparsely covered sexy bits. ‘OK, great. Meet you at the beach bar Friday night at sunset?’
‘Actually …’ I have a quick internal debate before deciding to trust my instincts. ‘Why don’t you meet me at the bookshop and I’ll show you the new and improved bar. It’s really special.’ Epeolatry’s literary appeal might just be thing that convinces him to tell his grandfather to back off.
He tilts his head. ‘Sounds intriguing. I’ll be there. Until then, Evie.’ He does that cool-guy chin lift nod thing and saunters off, and I wasn’t expecting anything less. Men with bodies like that do a lot of sauntering. He must know he’s not the kind who lopes, or canters for that matter. I remind myself to be on guard. It could all be some massive trick to get information or something. I’m not a conspiracist like Posy but it pays to be careful.
I can’t hide my grin as I watch him go, towel slung over his shoulder, his book in hand. I, Evie, socially awkward hot mess, wangled a dinner invite with a hot Greek guy and also managed to have a semi-successful conversation despite the fact he is wearing one small piece of fabric over his nether regions. A guy who also happens to be my arch-nemesis because my gran is having a war with his family and blood is thicker than water and all that.
