One Week in Greece

by Demi Alex

  “Hey. Hope you’re almost done up there. Miss you. Spent the past three hours painting with a hard-on, and searching for a solution to our problem. No worries. We got this. I’m on my way to pick her up and give her the grand tour. I’ll keep her busy and preoccupied. You’ll take over when I go see Christo. So finish up and be ready. We’ll get through this. Love you.”

  He hit send, then added a text message:

  I love you lots.

  I love you more came Justin’s reply, and immediately a notification that he’d watched the video again. He sent another text: Take a detour and we’ll fix the hard-on issue.

  Paul grinned. Boner self-serviced in the shower.

  In that case, you owe me one.

  Say when.

  Sex was never a difficulty for them. The “when” was anytime the other wanted, and they both wanted often. No one got him the way Justin did. So many times Justin knew what he needed before he did. That gave him cause to consider how Bethany fit between them.

  Very, very nicely.

  He strolled into the reception ahead of schedule and right into an intimate scene of Christo leaning over Bethany’s shoulder. Romeo stood at her back, so close Paul thought he saw her lean on his chest as he breathed her air. Christo worked the computer mouse, spoke in her ear, and pointed to a pile of brochures spread across the desk. They shared the space with no qualms, functioning like they’d worked together for years, and taking care of guests with an apparent effortlessness and efficiency that had him grinding his teeth.

  She saw him and smiled. “Hey.”

  “Hey, yourself,” he said, returning her smile and lifting his chin in greeting to Christo. He stepped to the side and watched as a young couple came to check in. She was a natural in the hospitality world. Competent and knowledgeable, she pointed out the highlights of the island to the couple.

  “Now, don’t overlook our own view. It’s heavenly. Since your villa isn’t ready yet, please be my guest for lunch on our terrace by the main pool.”

  “I love this Greek hospitality,” the young blonde drawled in a Texas accent. “We saved and planned for a dream honeymoon since we got engaged. We decided on a small family wedding in the backyard to afford this trip. I think we did okay.”

  “More than okay,” Bethany said, drawing two circles on the map. “Don’t hesitate to ask us for recommendations. We enjoy the island as much as the tourists and we all have our favorite hotspots. If you like seafood, Paul will tell you how to get to Kalos Psaras, my preferred waterfront tavern. Then just walk a few streets down for the best stracciatella ever. And be very happy gelato has less calories than ice cream.”

  She said it with such authority, yet by her own admission the night before, it was the first stracciatella she’d ever tasted.

  “Love seafood and ice cream. We’re there.” The pretty Texan accepted and studied the map, tracing a manicured fingernail from the resort to Little Venice.

  “Mykonos has a rad rep for beach bars and parties,” the new husband added. “Any nearby? Walking distance so we can make it back on our own?”

  “Enigma is close,” Christo said, stepping up behind Bethany. “The bus stops in front of the resort. Board on our side of the street, ride it to the next stop, and you can party all night long until the buses start running in the morning.”

  “Can we grab a taxi for cheap or walk back?”

  “Both. It’s a fifteen minute walk downhill,” Christo said, snaking his arm around Bethany’s middle and resting his cheek against her soft hair. “If you’re there tomorrow, Bethany and I will be happy to give you a ride back.”

  “You’re going to Enigma tomorrow?” Paul asked.

  “Yeah,” she replied. “Want to come?”

  Yes, he wanted to come. What sane person wouldn’t want to come with her looking at him with those big brown eyes smiling and those lush full lips moving? But first he wanted to peel Christo’s fingers off her body.

  “Maybe. I’ll check with Justin and let you know,” he said. “Cuz, can I have a word with you?”

  “Wait,” the blonde said, waving at him. “Can you please give us directions to the restaurant Bethany was talking about first?”

  “Sure,” Paul said, hiding his reluctance behind a forced smile, but fuck him if Christo didn’t smirk as the woman handed Paul the map and settled beside him.

  Clearly the couple had splurged on the honeymoon of their dreams and was on a budget, so Paul suggested the bus again. He was in the middle of pointing out the stop they were to get off at, when Christo whispered something to Bethany and kissed the side of her head. He lifted his chin to Paul and mouthed “later” in Greek. Then he walked out, walked out before Paul had the opportunity to speak with him.

  “Where did he go?” Paul asked Bethany when the guests were gone.

  “He said he had to meet with your uncle about something.” She reached beneath the counter and slipped a coiled key bracelet on her wrist. “I’m ready to go if you are.”

  They said goodbye to the staff and headed out into the noonday sun.

  “We’ll start with the public areas. You’ve already seen the main resort pool and dining terrace. There are two more café-bars, much smaller, but well utilized.”

  “Where is the second bar? I’ve only seen the one Christo was working last night.”

  Fuck. She’d been with and knew Christo since last night. Not good.

  He stuffed his hands in his pockets and casually kicked a pebble off the path. “I’m guessing you’ve been to the Wandering Rocks and not the Oracle, right?”

  “Right,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “But why is it named Wandering Rocks? It overlooks the water and is so adorable. No rocks around.”

  “A testament to my aunt’s warped sense of humor and love for literature. Since Kosta had the main say in naming all the units after characters, and I’m using that loosely, in Greek mythology, she thought it would be fun to name a bar you couldn’t get up from after something not exclusively Greek. It’s named from James Joyce’s Ulysses’ Wandering Rocks, which are not in “Homer’s Odyssey”. She took it one step farther and identified the two doors to the side as Scylla and Charybdis.”

  “Because no man has ever passed through the Wandering Rocks alive, it’s safer to opt for the six-headed monster and the whirlpool.” She tapped a finger to her temple and smiled in amusement. “That’s way too much detail for me to have retained, but my teaching assistant was hot. I hung on his every word.”

  Amused with her candidness, he laughed. “Did you now?”

  “Me and the rest of the class, which just happened to be all female students but one. Antonio was drool-worthy.” She fanned her hand before her face for emphasis.

  “Hate to take the romance out of it, but Scylla leads to a broom closet and Charybdis houses the main building’s electrical panel.”

  “Darn,” she said, snapping her fingers in exaggerated flare. “You sure know how to put out a girl’s fire.”

  He laughed louder, liking the playful and flirty side of her. “If you have time and want a good read by the pool, you should ask Kosta to borrow a book from my aunt’s collection. She loved all books, from romances, to biographies, to the classics taught in university literature classes. They’re in Greek, French, and English. She even had kids’ books. I loved the Pendragon series by…”

  “D. J. MacHale,” she finished. “I remember them.”

  Impressive. Besides being a knockout, she was also a book geek. He liked it.

  “Where’s the Oracle?”

  And she had a good memory. He didn’t miss that little tidbit about her. So much more to the woman than he could have imagined.

  Explaining that the little café was tucked behind the Muses’ villas and mostly used by the staff, they agreed to try it for lunch.

  Bethany continued to impress him on every subject they discussed. She agreed with the eco-friendly measures he’d put into practice over t
he past decade, added a few ideas of her own, and charmed every staff member they encountered. He searched his brain for a reason to keep her at arm’s length, but came up empty with each attempt. They had more in common than their love for Justin.

  He liked her. He liked her a lot.

  They were at the Oracle, eating lunch and reviewing the energy-saving measures in place, while discussing possible additions, when her focus returned to the bottom line.

  “So do you think the septic system could handle the small dishwashers? Or is it better to continue with housekeeping exchanging the kitchenware each time the rooms are turned over? I’m speaking from a financial point of view. The initial investment would be substantial, but it should balance over a few years.”

  “We’d have to consult with a plumber for the resort system, and definitely bring in a hydrologist that is familiar with the town’s watershed. I’m more curious about the effect it would have on the septic tanks and drainage field,” Paul said, admiring how much she considered the overall functioning of the resort. Nothing was too small or too big for her beautiful mind.

  “I’d have to look into it more to see if it’s truly cost effective. Maybe the additional manpower is the easiest way to go.” She picked up her phone and typed something into the notes section. “I need more research on this.”

  “Honestly, I’m not too concerned about the maintenance cost overtime. I’m more concerned about sanitizing properly at the present time,” Paul said. “We only keep service for four in each unit, and switch it out when guests leave. There are no cooking facilities in the rooms, and guests seem to be okay with washing wine glasses and cheese plates. That’s all the glasses and plates are used for.”

  “I know,” she said, dipping a fried zucchini slice into the taztziki sauce. “I used my wine glass yesterday and had no problem washing it and letting it air dry.”

  She handed him one of the yummy little fish, an aitherina, and held out her hand, waiting for him to eat the head and tail.

  “We’ll need to address the kitchenettes. They typically contain more appliances and frills to be considered timeshare units.”

  “But if guests cook their own meals, it might have an adverse effect on local merchants,” Paul said. “It will definitely change their experience.”

  Her phone buzzed, and she giggled as she read the text. She typed out a one-finger response, and laughed aloud at the reply. Rolling her eyes, she placed the phone face-down on the table with exaggerated flair and turned to him. The twinkle in her gaze matched the lyrical laughter.

  And fuck, she had an amazing laugh.

  It went right through him and tickled his insides, doing things to his body a business associate should never do. He adjusted his seat, leaned close, and ran a finger down the bridge of her nose.

  “Your face lights up so pretty when you laugh. That must be an especially nice text to have such an effect.”

  “My silly sister,” she replied, handing him another tiny fish. “She’s bugging me for more pictures. She wants to see exactly how handsome you are.”

  So…she’d told her sister about him. And she thought he was handsome. Nice.

  “Let’s send her one,” Paul said, edging his chair close and draping an arm over her shoulder. He reached for the phone and held it for her to enter the passcode.

  She punched in a sequence of numbers, but held herself away from him.

  He wouldn’t have it.

  Paul leaned his head on hers, hugged her tight, and pressed the button. He smiled, then kissed her temple, and snapped a second pic. “Send me copies, too.”

  Bethany selected the first shot and hit send.

  “I want both,” he said. “Send both to me.”

  A blush crept over her cheeks, but she selected both pictures and sent them to his contact. Nice. He’d also been saved in her contacts.

  He squeezed her shoulder and lingered a bit longer on a second kiss, when the screen flashed three consecutive messages:

  OMG! Nine-alarm.

  Fake it.

  Get out now!

  Shaking her head, she flipped the phone facedown again and laughed. “She says you’re hot.”

  “Nice to know.” But what he really wanted to know was what exactly she should fake. And why her sister was telling her to get out. He didn’t ask. Rather he bit the tail and head off an aitherina and handed it to her.

  They alternated between speaking like business associates and friends with ease, making him question what else could be added in order to meet all the needs between them. The more tiny fish heads he bit off for her, the more probable a physical arrangement seemed. Because damn, if it wasn’t a possibility, he was an ass for envisioning it.

  “I need to say something, and you need to listen,” Paul said, clearing his throat, determined to clear the air. “Last night, you were correct. You did wow me. You are perfect for Vaso’s Dream and you would bring so much to this place.”

  “Thank you,” she said. “Vaso’s Dream is wonderful and I adore everything about it. And with a few tweaks here and there, that won’t even be noticeable to the guests…”

  She kept talking, and while he should’ve stopped her, he didn’t. Paul watched her mouth move and listened to her voice, because he could watch her for hours. But he didn’t consider changing his mind. No matter how much she belonged here, her father did not. Beaming, she held her hands between her bouncing knees, but no matter what the result, he had to let her know the whole truth.

  “…they’re actually no-brainers. A win-win situation for the environment, the local economy, and the profit—”

  “Stop, baby.” He placed a finger on her lips. “Please listen.”

  Her bright smiled dimmed, and he questioned whether it was wise to share any more. But he had to. The woman was already too important to him and he wouldn’t lie. He had to let her choose if she still wanted him around. And he had to respect her choice.

  “You’re making this harder for me than it already is, and that’s because you’re so amazing. I don’t want to hurt you,” he said, placing a hand on her knee and stilling the movement.

  Fuck, his own heart raced and his gut churned. He didn’t want to hurt her.

  “I heard everything you said. I agree with you, Bethany. Those are only a few of the reasons why you’re perfect for this place. And while I cannot make my uncle’s decision, I will not support him in selling the resort to Luxury Homes.”

  “But you said we’re perfect.”

  “You are perfect.” Aware of how the conversations around them had dropped in volume, he stood and held out his hand. “Come on, baby. Please.”

  He held his breath, waiting for her to decide whether or not to trust him and place her hand in his. His chest ached. He didn’t want her to turn away.

  “Please. In private.”

  With a sheen of sadness in her eyes, she gave him her hand.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Releasing a long breath, Paul tucked Bethany’s hand through the crook of his arm, closed her fingers on his forearm, and covered her trembling hand with his own. He quickly led her away, not taking a chance she’d change her mind and want to end the conversation.

  “I feel ridiculous,” she said.

  Once they were alone on a shaded path, he stopped walking, and turned her to look at him. “Why would you even think any of this is ridiculous?”

  She pulled her hand from his and walked to a cement bench, which marked where the path opened to a sea view. She sat and dropped her face into her hands.

  “Because I should simply walk away from all of this. I’m not getting anywhere. You don’t take me seriously on the resort matters.”

  “I take you very seriously,” he insisted, squatting before her and peeling her hands off her face. “You, koukla, are not the problem. Luxury Homes is. Your father is. He did you and Justin wrong. I can’t stomach the idea of him being anywhere near this place. And I won’t let any
one hurt the people I love.”

  “And once again ridiculous.” She worried her lip, and he touched a finger to her chin to make her stop. “Not only am I in a difficult professional position, but my personal situation, actually our personal relationship is truly bizarre. Don’t you get that the mixed signals are too much to handle?”

  He could see the yearning in her eyes and his heart longed to answer. There was nothing bizarre about their relationship; they simply hadn’t acknowledged what it meant. It was time. He needed to bring everything into the open.

  “You love Justin?” Paul asked.

  “Of course,” she said, holding his gaze. “And you love Justin.”

  It wasn’t a question, but he knew she expected an answer.

  “I do.”

  “Then what am I doing with the two of you? This,” she flicked her hand between them, “this isn’t good. I can’t be a business nemesis and a BFF. And, I can’t be a BFF and deny what I feel inside. I’m a bundle of contradictions. We’re a bundle of contradictions.”

  He leaned back on his heels, fit his legs between her feet, and nodded as he gazed up at her beautiful face. He knew exactly how she felt.

  She wanted to buy Vaso’s Dream, she fit all the criteria of a great investor, but he didn’t want the resort sold to her company. Personally, he wanted to pull her against him and kiss the breath from her. But, she was supposed to be a friend. And friends didn’t deal with friends like that. They respected certain boundaries—boundaries that were more than blurred in their case.

  “Forget the business nemesis. It’s settled. I will not aid Kosta with this sale.” That was the easy part of their dilemma. In all truth, Kosta didn’t really want to sell, and if Paul and Justin could come to an agreement on their future, the issue of Kosta needing to be on property all the time would be settled.

  “You can’t negate everything I’ve done. No,” she snipped. “I’m not backing off because you say so.”