Saved By The Greek Doctor (Greek Gods #3) - Holly Rayner Page 0,7

he’d pointed out to me. “In that case, help yourself. Everything is delicious, of course, because I made it by hand and I am, as it turns out, an excellent cook.”

“And humble, too,” I noted, helping myself to a large scoop of rice and two skewers, one chicken and one steak.

“The humblest person I know, as it happens,” he returned quickly. “Have some olives. They’re from my own trees and I’m particularly proud of them.”

“You have olive trees?” I asked, surprised at this—although I shouldn’t have been, I guessed. The man could evidently sail, cook, and doctor people, so why not grow olives as well?

He grinned. “I have an entire grove of them,” he said, like he was passing on the biggest secret he had at his fingertips. “As well as an entire vineyard of grapes. Where do you think I get all the wine?”

“Well, I assumed it came from the liquor store, just like my wine usually does,” I said. “What else do you have? A castle hidden away in the background with a herd of dragons, just in case?”

“The entire island,” he whispered, his eyes big and exaggerated. But then he shrugged, playing it down. “A couple of boats. The house. A golf cart to get around in when I don’t feel like walking. And horses. Oh, and alpacas. But enough about me. Tell me about yourself.”

I stared at him, trying to take everything in and feeling like I had bitten off an enormous piece of apple that I couldn’t quite chew. The entire island? Vineyards of grapes and olive trees? Horses? Alpacas?

“Who are you?” I asked breathlessly. Because I’m not going to lie, I was starting to think I’d managed to faint just off the coast of some famous millionaire’s island or something.

What was he, some sort of tech baby? A trust fund kid? A real estate mogul or the head of an oil company? What kind of man owned an entire island and just casually grew grapes and olives on the side, while saving women who happened to fall into the ocean as they sailed by his own personal island?

“No one of consequence,” he said with a shrug.

Then he started laughing. More of that big, whooping laughter that was so unexpected and so contagious that a moment later I found myself laughing with him—not only because he was laughing but because he’d just quoted one of my favorite movies of all time.

It was all so ridiculous. The falling off the boat. The being rescued like some princess in a fairy tale. The house, the lavish décor, the fact that he was a freaking doctor. This dinner, and the olive trees and grapevines and the ridiculous thing about the alpacas.

It was suddenly so funny that I couldn’t stop laughing, and I just reveled in it, letting myself go and feeling happiness and satisfaction for the first time that I could honestly remember.

Feeling free in a way I wasn’t sure I ever had. Which was bizarre, considering this wasn’t my island or house or delicious dinner spread. Rather the opposite, actually—they belonged to someone I didn’t even know.

When we finally sobered again, I glanced down at the wine glass in my hand, wondering if I’d had too much to drink already, but found that I’d only had a few sips of the stuff. It was the company, I realized—the company and the situation—that was making me laugh. It was feeling the tension melting out of my shoulders, like ice melting after having been frozen for far, far too long.

For the first time in ages, I felt like I could just be me. And after years of trying to be someone else—trying to be the person that everyone else expected me to be—that was a completely novel experience. Scary, yes. But beautiful.

“I’ve only known you half an hour and you’re already making me laugh harder than anyone I’ve ever met,” I said, tipping my glass forward to clink it with his. “And that, good sir, deserves a toast.”

“To shipwrecks far from home, and the friends you make in the midst of them,” he intoned, eyes twinkling.

My God, the man was also a poet? I was a goner.

Halfway through the most fabulous dinner I’d ever had, Nikos asked me what I was doing in Greece in the first place.

“Getting away from my life,” I said without hesitation.

He frowned. “That sounds serious. And permanent.”

“Serious, yes. I haven’t decided yet about the permanence. Theoretically, the real world is still waiting for me