Page 11 of Love on the Rocks
“The temple of Aphrodite. It is in ruins,” explained Yiannis.
“Yeah, I can see that,” I deadpanned.
I continued following them across the arid plateau, overgrown with dried grass, far, far away from any other habitation toward what I can only describe as another ruin. Astone hut basically, half covered by a gnarled cedar that was leaning to the side. I wasn’t even sure it had a real roof. More like a mix of corrugated metal and straw.
“This is the house,” Yiannis announced as we drew up to the rickety front door.
Goddammit, Gaz! He had told me to expect something rustic, but I wasn’t counting on a dilapidated hovel. I wanted to cry. What the hell was I doing here? I was tempted to turn on my heel and hightail it straight back to the ferry.
There was no way I was going to let on how lost I felt in front of these two though. The god of war grumbled in Greek at Yiannis, who pulled something from his pocket and handed it to me. “Here.”
I pinched the enormous, rusted key between my fingers. “Oh, seriously?” I let out a hysterical laugh. “Good to know I can lock the door while someone climbs in through the roof.”
I stepped inside and let my eyes adjust to the somber interior. The air was stale with a slight odor of . . . goat? I closed my eyes, willing myself to be strong.
You’re not allowed to cry about this. My inner pep-talk voice warned me.Think of your career.
Taking a series of deep calming breaths, I opened my eyes and let them wander around the shack that was to be my new home for the next few weeks.
Dust motes floated in the rays of light streaming through the window. And through the cracks in the stone wall. The sofa was some sort of wicker contraption with a few old, tatty cushions thrown on it. There was a worn wooden shipping crate in the middle of the room in the guise of a table.
I turned back to face my charming hosts. My first instinct was to demand to be taken elsewhere, but the expression on that smug bastard’s face made me hold my tongue. I recognized that look—the one that said I couldn’t handle this.
“Can we get you anything? There is food at the market behind the taverna. I can get you coffee, bread . . .” Yiannis trailed off his eyes flicking between his friend and me.
“Thank you, but I’m too tired to eat.” I tried not to sound as defeated as I felt. “I’m supposed to meet with a government agent tomorrow at the construction site. Do you know how I can get there?”
“Er, at the port. A boat will take you.” He glanced at his friend, who just stood there staring at me like he wanted to eat me. A shiver of excitement ran up my spine and I thanked God for my padded bra, or my humiliating arousal would have been visible through my dress.
“See you tomorrow then. Goodbye.” I hustled them out and fell back against the wall listening to their footsteps in the dirt.
Once they’d gone, I slid to the floor, pressing the heels of my hands into my eyes and willing myself once again not to cry. I had to stay positive about all this. It was only temporary. Once I got the permit settled, I’d focus on getting another place. Sure, this place was dark and drab, but I’d clean it up and decorate tomorrow. I had lots of scented candles, and I’d even brought some sage and incense which would eradicate the slight odor of goat lingering in the air. There was no TV, but no biggie because I couldn’t understand Greek, and the reception would probably suck. Anyway, I had my books.
Speaking of which. I dragged my smaller suitcase into the living room (if you could call it that) and pulled them out one by one, placing them on the makeshift table. Then I set out a photo of my parents in front of the camping car they were currently driving around the Netherlands on their retirement tour of Europe. The photo of Liv, Levi, and me in front of the Globe Theatre in London was next. Seeing their smiling faces comforted me. I wished I could talk to them, but since I had noreception on my phone, I’d just have to imagine what they’d say:You’ve got this, fearless.
A quick tour of the rest of the tiny place revealed a bathroom with a broken mirror and, miraculously, running water. Cold running water, but a working tap, nonetheless. I could always boil it on the stove.
Except that there was no stove. The tiny kitchen didn’t have a fridge either, just a table and a half-broken chair and some weird plates hanging on the wall.
“Okay, Gaz, hilarious joke. How the hell am I supposed to prepare a menu for your investors without a kitchen?” I kicked the wall in disgust and coughed as I dislodged more dust.
The bedroom wasn’t much better; a simple mattress on the floor covered by a thin sheet.Fantastic.At least my vibrator didn’t care where I used it. He was a cheap date. And to think I hesitated to bring it.
I emptied the rest of my “self-care” suitcase, stacking my romance books next to the bed and slipping on my lilac silk pajama set. I hung my Stevie Nicks concert poster over the bed. A kind of talisman, it had hung over every bed that I’d owned from high school bedroom to my Brixton flat. Then I spritzed my pillow with lavender oil and wrapped myself in the soft knit blanket that my grandmother had made me a few years ago. Finally, grippingOne Week with the Greekto my chest, I collapsed on the thin mattress.
Through the window, the breathtaking view of the crumbling columns of the temple with the sun setting behind it made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I had a weird feeling that if I listened hard enough, I could hear it whispering to me.
Chapter 5
Suddenly, the dark, handsome stranger was standing in front of her. His warm sandalwood scent enveloped her as did the heat from his body. Mia shivered, not from the cold, but from anticipation. The band began to play, and he held out a large, elegant hand.
“Would you like to dance?” he asked.
- One Week with the Greek
CALLIE
Iwoke up the next morning to the sun pouring in through the curtainless window and the tinkling of little goat bells. I’d been in the middle of a weird erotic dream about a statue with black eyes and warm hands. When I eventually broke through the haze of sleep and found myself rolled like a burrito in Nana’s blanket, the comforting part of the dream made sense. Now if I could only recapture the sexy part . . .
