Page 16 of Love on the Rocks
What the actual fuck? Anger coiled in the pit of my stomach and I wouldn’t have been surprised if smoke was coming out of my ears.
“Yeah, I speak English.” He had the audacity to glare at me like he was the one who had been wronged.
“Why didn’t you tell me that?” I demanded.
He shrugged his massive shoulders. “You never asked.”
“I shouldn’t have to ask!” I shouted. “Normally, when you’re in a foreign country and you meet someone who speaks your language, you exchange a few words. It’s called solidarity.”
He shifted the oars out of the water and onto his knees. “Maybe I would have, if you’d ever deigned to address me. Youthought I was some illiterate fisherman. All you’ve done since you got here is issue commands.”
“Whoa!” I waved my hands to clear the smoke of his blatant lies. He was accusingmeof being an overbearing snob? Okay, I could be bossy sometimes; I’m a chef, that comes with the job. But a snob? “I never addressedyou? All you’ve done since I got here is glare at me like I murdered your dog or something.”
I leaned back and crossed my arms. Not only did he speak English, he spokeperfectEnglish. “Why don’t you have an accent?”
“I’m from New York.” He shrugged like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Schenectady.”
“Schenectady!” I took a deep breath so I wouldn’t push him overboard. “But you’re Greek!”
“Yeah, you can have more than one nationality, you know.”
I stared at him, speechless, my mouth hanging open. This was like some kind of nightmare. The only person on this island with whom I had any shared language and culture was the asshole who’d let me confess how I couldn’t stop thinking about him touching me. He’d sat there and listened to it all. God, what had I even said? I knew I’d mentioned my vibrator, his hands, his beautiful biceps.
“You know, when I said earlier that you had a shitty personality, that was an understatement. You are a first-class scumbag. A lying . . .” I said as I searched for the right word, “rat bastard!”
He stiffened, and I could see that I had hit a nerve. “I never lied to you.”
“Ha! Withholding the truth is the same thing!” I lunged for his oars. “If you’re not going to row, I will.”
I fell against him, my mouth inches from his. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but stare into his dark eyes. He had long lashes—like ridiculously long—and a small freckleunder his right eye. His large hands held my waist, and I was suddenly hyper conscious of how strong and warm they were.
As if reading my thoughts, his eyes flicked to his hands then back to my face. A small, wicked smile ticking up the corner of his mouth, he said huskily, “Well, I guess now you got your wish.”
“Asshole.” I pushed him away and sat as far away from him as I could.
He began to row, whistling as he did so. I wrapped my arms around my waist, wishing I could get the feel of him off me, but it was like his hands had branded me. I wouldn’t be surprised if I had scorch marks on my skin.
I refused to speak to him or even look at him until we reached the harbor. As soon as he threw the rope around the metal hook in the concrete, I started to climb out of the boat.
“Wait, I’ll help you,” he said.
“Too late for that.” I stumbled up onto the dock, swung my purse over my shoulder and marched on wobbly heels toward the taverna.
His footsteps thudded on the concrete walk behind me, and when I stopped in front of the busy terrace, he nearly knocked me into a table where several pretty, young women were having lunch.
“Yia, Niko,” they giggled in greeting. I rolled my eyes. Of course, he would have a local fan club. He’d probably fucked every willing, single woman on the island.
“Are you going to the taverna?” I spun around to face him.
“Yes.”
“Okay, then I’ll go somewhere else.” I shoved past him, and he had the nerve to touch me again! I shook him off.
“As your tour guide, I wouldn’t advise you to eat anything at the only other restaurant on this side of the island.”
“Mytour guide? I don’t recall hiring you in any capacity.” Ugh, I wanted to punch that smug grin off his face. “And that was without a doubt the worst tour I’ve ever had. Don’t pretend like you didn’t let us drift out there for hours!”
He raised those large hands again, palms in the air. “Minutes maybe? It was definitely less than a half hour. I thought you’d enjoy the view.” He cocked one thick eyebrow, challenging me to define what he meant by view.
