Page 80 of Love on the Rocks
I pulled out my latest experiment—a paper-thin sheet of dehydrated kritamo. I wanted something that recalled a communion wafer but that was thin as air and melted on the tongue. I popped it into his mouth. “Don’t chew, just let it dissolve on your tongue and then take a bite of this.”
“Wow, once again proving that you’re a witch with magical powers.”
I took my time cooking each course, showing him how to make certain elements like the myzritha espuma and grape-leaf wafers, explaining the philosophy behind the dishes. By the time we got to the end of the menu, two hours had passed. It was the most fun I’d had cooking in a long time.
His pleasure in my food was evident. I felt it in my soul. Words were unnecessary.
He sat back as we sipped our dessert wines. “You’re not only a sorceress, but you’re also an amazing fucking artist. I don’t know what else to say.”
“The dessert is a work in progress,” I admitted. “It’s not my strength. I’m not very sweet.”
“No, definitely more spice,” he agreed, eyeing me meaningfully over his wineglass. “Does that mean I don’t get dessert then?”
“I might have something else in mind . . .” I teased, sipping my wine as he slid off the stool and pinned me against the counter. “What are you doing?”
“I would be remiss in not paying the chef.” His lips met mine and he scooped me up and carried me to the couch, moving over me in a pool of moonlight.
Chapter 31
Their time together was passing too quickly. Angelos thought he would have bored with Mia by now, but she continued to fascinate him. Her eagerness to explore his islands and her guileless laughter enchanted him. He wanted to take his time with her and to savor her. One week was not long enough.
- One Week with the Greek
CALLIE
We woke up together for the first time the next morning. It was early, just before sunrise, when the alarm sounded. I groaned and started to roll from the bed, but Nikos pulled me down into his naked warmth.
“Do you always jump straight out of bed?” he mumbled into my hair.
“Yes, or I’ll fall back asleep.” I sank deeper against his chest. “I wouldn’t have taken you for such a cuddler.”
“Appearances can be deceiving.” Wasn’t that the truth? When I first saw him glowering at me from that chair against the wall of the taverna, I never would have suspected that we’d be spooning in rumpled sheets a few weeks later.
Since we had to meet the boat for Kos in less than half an hour, we couldn’t have a leisurely morning in bed listening to the birds sing. I barely had enough time to down a cup of coffee and pack up my kitchen toolkit. Nikos had assured me that therewere ingredients and cooking supplies at the community center, but I needed my own knives. I swiped on some red lipstick because I was inexplicably nervous–not knowing what to expect from the experience, secretly afraid it would be too much for me. But I wanted to do something if I could, no matter how small.
On the boat, Nikos set up a small magnetic chess set. I hadn’t played in a while, but it was like riding a bike; I hadn’t forgotten how to kick ass.
“Checkmate.” I sang and did a little dance in my seat when I beat him.
“So competitive,” Nikos said, sitting back and crossing his arms and scowling at the chessboard.
“You’re just now realizing this about me?” I laughed.
During the two-hour crossing, Nikos explained how the islands of the Dodacanese had become the destination for so many desperate people due to the islands’ proximity to the Turkish coast. Previous camps had been dirty and overcrowded. The new closed-access facilities were cleaner but so tightly controlled that they limited freedom of movement. He volunteered with Doctors Without Borders, but there was another association that worked on food distribution, education, and social activities. They ran a community center where people could come to read, talk, learn English, or even share their skills with fellow migrants.
“It’s not easy the first time you see it.” His strong fingers wound reassuringly between mine as we docked in the port of Kos. The island was much larger than Lyra, its busy port lined with cafés and palm trees, neat rows of white apartment buildings and manicured lawns, and sailboats docked in the marina. A truck was waiting to take us to the camp and the pit in my stomach expanded.
When we arrived at the camp a man in his late twenties was waiting for us. Nikos jumped out and they embraced.“Emmanuel, this is Callie. She’s going to help in the kitchen today.”
He gripped my outstretched hand warmly in his. “Your wife?”
A horrified look crossed Nikos’s face. “No, she’s not my wife.”
I tried not to feel hurt by his reaction, but it was weird and I studied him closely. And then I wanted to kick myself. I had decided to let him in, to do whatever it was that we were doing together, and I couldn’t act so suspicious all the time.
He’s not Gaz.
The next minute he was fine, taking me inside to meet the people in the kitchen who were thrilled to learn that I was a chef.
