about?
Chapter 9
Trish
When we got back into the house, we feasted on the leftovers from dinner—mostly rice and kebabs, along with plenty of olives—and kept conversation at the table light.
And by light, I mean I got a crash course in how to grow the best olives, depending on what you wanted to use them for.
“My olives are for eating,” Nikos said helpfully, as a start to the conversation.
I gave him my best shocked face, like he’d just explained the theory of relativity in a way I actually understood. “You’re joking. Olives that people actually eat? That’s revolutionary!”
He made a face back at me. “What I mean,” he continued seriously, “is that there are olives that are best for olive oil and olives that are best for things like martinis and cooking. My olives are best for just eating.”
I admit, I stared at him for several long moments at that. Because… well, I’m sure you can see the problem.
“Last time I checked,” I finally said, “olive oil is for… eating. And martinis and cooking are… for eating. So…”
He put up one hand to stop me, looking at me like a professor about to deliver the most important lecture of his life, and I gave an internal sigh. I’d never been that good at sitting through lectures.
Still, this was obviously very important to him. And because of that, and that alone, I settled in, waiting for the enlightening information on how eating olive oil was different from eating olives.
“Let’s put it this way,” he said. “Only some olives are good for snacking. Some are too strong, and some are too weakly flavored. You have to have a specific kind if you want to be able to eat them on their own. Mine are eat-them-on-their-own olives.”
I nodded sagely, taking in this wisdom. “And is that why you have so many of them sitting around? To eat them on their own?”
At this, he gave me an enormous sigh. “The truth is, I was trying a different sort of curing, and it went more quickly than I anticipated. So I have an entire season’s worth of cured olives that my distributor is not ready for.”
I snorted with laughter at that. It just seemed so unlike the fastidious Nikos to have screwed up an important timeline.
“Which is why we’re using them in every single dish we cook?” I said.
“Which is why we’re using them in every single dish we cook,” he replied with a nod.
I reached out, grabbed another olive from the bowl, and popped it into my mouth. Because honestly, I’d heard of worse things than being forced to survive on olives.
By the time we finished lunch, we were both yawning so much we could barely carry on a conversation. We agreed to head our separate ways for a little while, both of us saying that we were in desperate need of not only showers but also naps.
Before I made my way toward my room, though, Nikos caught my hand.
“Have dinner with me tonight,” he said quietly.
I almost laughed at that. “It’s not really like I have a choice, you know,” I said. “We’re the only two people here. Even if I wanted to choose someone else for my dinner date, I don’t think I’d find anyone.”
He blushed a bit. “What I mean is, I’ll cook dinner again. And I’d love it if you’d join me in the kitchen this time. If you’re feeling well enough, I mean.”
At that, I perked right up, because I was starting to feel pretty useless just laying around the joint not doing anything. I was used to being one of the women in charge of an entire company. This whole sitting-around-watching-him-cook-for-me thing had been nice for a second. But I was over it.
“I would love to,” I said immediately. “I need something to do with my hands or I’m going to go insane.”
“Oh, I’ll give you something to do with your hands,” he murmured, his eyes smoldering.
I cocked my head when he left the double entendre just hanging there, and he laughed.
“Chopping,” he said, still fizzing with mirth. “Greek food requires lots and lots of vegetables, which means there’s always chopping to be done. And your hands are the best tools for that sort of thing.”
I grinned, but saw that he was only partially kidding about calling off the joke, and then turned and made my way toward the suite that had become mine for however long I stayed, my mind still buzzing with questions about who he was and