“I shouldn’t like him calling me that, should I?” Jake says and then one of his phones starts ringing. “That’s Yiannis. I’ll go meet him.”
He walks down towards the main entrance talking into his phone like the caller is a long-lost, much-loved friend.
“Hey,” I say and give Marty a little nudge. He still looks lost in thought, so I wait for his eyes to find mine. “Are you okay?”
His hand comes to the back of his head, rubbing. “Yeah, of course,” he says, then closes his eyes. “Actually, no, not really.”
“Never ridden a scooter before?” I ask.
“No, it’s not that. It’s just I...when I was abroad...”
“Oh, is it a you and Arnie thing?” I say wanting to kick myself that I didn’t think of it sooner.
“No, well, yes it was, but no... I just. I had an accident once and now... now...” He trails off, his cheeks hollowing as he bites them in his mouth.
“Well, then we can just skip the scooter ride and we go back to my villa and we...” I bob my eyebrows, almost pleased. One whole day with this man in bed. What could be better?
“No,” he says, and he shakes his head roughly. “No, I want to do this.”
“Then great! We’ll do it.” I find his hand and give it a squeeze.
“Fuck me, I’m such an eejit,” Marty says and he’s looking away, out in the direction of the sea, like he wants to run away there.
I smile and push up on my toes to press my lips to his. “Iwillfuck you, you eejit. Later. But first, we scooter!” I smile against his mouth when I feel his lips do the same.
“But could you... would you mind driving? I think that would help a lot,” he asks.
“Of course, I can.” I sound a lot more confident than I am.
“Grand,” he says quietly.
Our heads turn in sync when we hear the approaching roar of an engine and we turn to see a muscular dark-haired man wearing aviators driving towards us with my brother’s arms wrapped around his waist, like he genuinely fears for his life... or maybe, like he wants to grab handfuls of that stocky torso. I bite back my smile.
“He could have your brother arrested,” Marty mutters under his breath to me and it’s good to hear him making a joke again.
Just over ten minutes later, we are ready. We look ridiculous on a battered old scooter together, wearing helmets that my hair is not going to enjoy. Marty has his thighs flanked against the back of mine and my bag is wedged in between us on his lap. The feeling of Marty’s firm legs against the back of my own is the one sensation that has me keeping my laughter under some control because it feels good; grounding and sexy, and just good. So good it makes me realise just how touch-starved I’ve been in the last year. My fat cheeks are squeezed tight in the helmet and I am grateful Marty can’t see me, until I realise he actually can, catching a glimpse of me in one of the side mirrors. I hear him chuckle and he tells me I look like “a cute little hamster storing food for winter.” I swipe at his leg,which makes him squeeze his thighs around my butt. We descend deeper into laughter together. We haven’t even switched the engine on.
“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” my brother asks as I turn the key. “And Jenna, if you must crash make sure it’s a total and you end up in hospital so you can claim it on your insurance rather than me having to pay off Yiannis in free meals for his family for the rest of the season. Please, and thank you.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence, brother dearest,” I say and then I rev the engine once, twice, and give myself a moment to feel a sliver of fear about driving this thing. And then I do what I’ve been doing with all my negative thoughts in the last year, I push it to the side and focus on the good.
“It’s going to be okay,” I tell myself again.
And I believe it. How could I not? I’m on a scooter, with a sexy young man who has his hands on my hips and a plan for a day together. A day in the sunshine. A day on a Greek island. A day in paradise. A day I never expected to happen. But it’s happening...
I’m at the road entrance to the resort when I slam on the brakes, and this forces Marty’s body to shift into mine in a way I don’t mind at all. I make a note of that.
“Sorry, just testing the brakes,” I call out.
“Fine with me,” he says, and I feel his arms snake around to grip my waist.
“But also,” I say. “Which way? Where are we actually going?”
He laughs and then tells me to turn left and to follow that road until he tells me otherwise, and while part of me hesitates at not knowing where we’re going or what we’re doing, I lean back against his embrace, turn left and wait for him to show me the way.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Marty
