Control. She had played these games before when Matthew had said something deliberately galling at marriage counselling…
She smiled. ‘Ah, Mr Petsas, you think calling someone amalákais me getting angry?’ She breathed in the sea air. ‘That is just the appetiser.’
‘Good,’ he answered. ‘Because I am hungry for more.’ He took a breath, pushed a hand through his hair. ‘Let’s go somewhere to eat.’
‘OK, which one of the only twotavernas?’
‘Not here,’ he replied. ‘Somewhere else.’
He started to walk back along the beach in the direction of the hotel.
‘You have a car?’ she called.
‘No,’ he called back, turning to face her. ‘I hired a motorbike.’
Of course he had. With Dimitria’s words from the other day about her summer needing an injection of pillion action, Faye walked to catch him up.
11
HOTEL MARGARITÁRI, AVLAKI
Faye appraised Kostas’s motorbike like she might have to write a detailed report on it for insurance purposes. Two wheels obviously and it was black and shiny and had a digital display that looked like it might connect to the internet and give you a weather report.
‘You will wear the helmet,’ Kostas said, offering it out.
That was black and shiny too and looked as alien as it felt to think she might have to put it on her head.
‘What will you wear?’ she asked.
He laughed. ‘I am Greek.’
He got on board, wheeling the bike back a little. God, why was she watching him do that? And why was she focussing on his forearms?Get a grip, Faye. This was all just Dimitria’s alluding that this summer should be all sexy and steered by a SMAX scooter. And then Kostas looked at her over his shoulder. She was still holding the helmet.
‘Are you coming?’ he asked.
She felt that comment places she really shouldn’t have. What was wrong with her? Perhaps she did need to take at least some of Dimitria’s advice and look into accepting a date. With someone age appropriate. And this was work! She was following orders. Very reluctantly. Because he was as annoying as he was good to look at.
‘Faye, have you never been on the back of a motorbike before?’ he asked, a smirk playing on his lips.
‘In the nineties,’ Faye answered.
‘Wow, when you were a child,’ he said fast. ‘OK, some things have not changed. Come closer.’
It wasn’t a request and she obeyed as he got back off the bike and stood in front of her. ‘OK, let’s see.’ He took the helmet from her, one large hand either side of it. And then he put it over her head, gently easing it into position. ‘Does that feel OK?’
She swallowed. Where was her trademark humour when she needed it? She nodded, too much, and quickly realised how much heavier her head was with a bulbous helmet on it.
‘Careful there,’ he said, laughing. ‘You almost knocked me out. Come.’ He got back on the bike. ‘One foot on here. Hold my shoulders.’
The shoulders referred to were broad and muscular, paying homage to basketball as a sport with toning benefits. She needed to move and stop overthinking this. It might be the most excitement she had had in a while, the closest she had been to a man for many months, but it was work. And she was happy in a work zone. She put a hand on his shoulder, a foot on the peg, and in one quick move she had straddled the seat and was melded to the mass of him. Now where should she put her hands to hold on? She didn’t have to think for long. He reached back, seeming to instinctively know where her hands were, and took them in his, planting them either side of his torso.
‘Hold on and don’t let go,’ he told her.
She barely had time to take that information in before the engine roared to life and they set out towards the gate and the exit.
12
KERASIA
