into the passenger seat, and within moments we were zooming out of the garage, my hands grasping for the bars at the side of the cart for stability, the speed ripping a startled laugh right out of me.
Evidently, I thought, it was not only a luxury golf cart but also one that had a better engine than most. Because I’d been in golf carts before, at my dad’s golf club, and they’d never come close to going this fast.
Boy, we’d tried. In the middle of the night as teenagers, accompanied by too much beer and youthful stupidity. We’d had race after race across the course, to see who could drive them faster.
They’d never been fast enough to satisfy us. But that never stopped us from trying.
It soon became apparent, as we sped down the hill, that Nikos was not only a doctor, but also a real speed demon. We flew across a large, flat section of the island—where I saw several stables that I thought probably meant that this was where he kept his horses, alpacas, and whatever other critters he had (because I assumed there were more)—and made our way toward the vineyard.
The moment we hit the dirt road, though, he slowed down to a more moderate pace.
“Driving too fast down here creates dust,” he said at my quick look.
“Ah. And dust is so inconvenient that you go out of your way to avoid it?”
He seemed to catch the wryness in my tone, because he grinned. “That, and I’ve found that driving too quickly on dirt is rather bumpy. I don’t mind, myself, but you’ve been unwell, so…”
I motioned this away as if it didn’t matter. “Don’t slow down on my account. I have a history of racing golf carts in the middle of the night. Believe me, I’m used to it.”
I wouldn’t have said it if I’d known he was going to take it to heart. I thought he’d been serious about the dust. But I’d barely closed my mouth before Nikos hit the gas pedal again and took us tearing along the main thoroughfare of the vineyard, telling me as we flew by the vines about the types of grapes he grew here and how he had people come in once a month to tend to them, and then once a year to pick the grapes themselves, plus an extensive sprinkler system that made sure they got the perfect amount of water every day to grow big, juicy, delicious grapes.
I just laughed, enjoying both the speed and the glimpse of a person I thought he rarely showed anyone else. A person that I suspected only existed when he was here, on this island that was both heavenly and completely private.
By the time we got back to the house, I was windblown, sunburned, and starving. I was also incredibly curious as to how Nikos had come to own this island—and how exactly he continued to pay for it. The place wasn’t enormous, but a private island is a private island, and I didn’t think he paid for the whole thing by selling wine and olives.
I mean granted, I didn’t know how much wine and olives went for. And then there were the horses and alpacas. Maybe he also did breeding or wool harvesting. Wait, did alpacas produce wool?
Surely, they did. Why else would you have had them?
Even still, was that really enough to afford a place like this?
Besides, I was curious. What kind of doctor had he been? And was that really all he was? Or had I somehow found my way onto an island owned by the Greek mob, or the heir of a rich old family?
I wanted to ask—honestly, I did—but something about it felt like an imposition. Also, I wasn’t sure how much I wanted to delve into his backstory. Nikos had been nothing but kind and giving toward me, and I’d seen a side of him out there on the island that told me he was probably also incredibly lonely out here on his personal island. I didn’t want to ruin the foundation we’d started to build.
I certainly didn’t want to be sent away.
So I kept my mouth shut, thinking that the man, who had two such distinct sides to him, would tell me who he was and what his story had been before I arrived when—and if—he was ready. Until then, I was going to enjoy the moment and refrain from thinking too hard about things.
After all, wasn’t that what vacations were all