“Okay.” She retracts her hand like I burned her. “Clearly a trigger. Noted.”
The rain is coming down harder, and it’s not safe for us to be standing out here without shelter. I scan the dock one more time for anyone who might be able to help us, but even the ticket booth is empty and locked up tight.
“Come on. I saw what looked like a hotel not too far back,” I say. “Let’s get there and figure out a plan.”
Clad in our flip-flops and cheery beach wear, we tromp a quarter of a mile or so in the rain to Villa Aphrodite. Soaking wet and cold now that the sun is getting lower in the sky, we shuffle our way inside the quaint bed-and-breakfast. It’s rustic, with paint peeling on the walls, but at least it’s clean. Lots of concrete, pink stone, and pops of blue. Josefine’s bathing suit and nail polish blend perfectly with the aesthetic.
Wearing what probably look like manic smiles, we greet the short, older woman at the front desk.
Josefine shivers next to me, making me wish I had something dry to offer her. Fortunately, we don’t have to wait long because the attendant shoots us a toothy smile and declares, “Bravo, we have a room!”
“Only one?” I ask. “We need two. We’re not together.” I wave between us.
“Po, po,” the womantsks.
“What does that mean?” Josefine mouths.
The woman’s bright smile quickly transforms into a frown. “Only one room.”
“You don’t have anything else?” Josefine stands on tiptoe and angles her upper half over the counter.
The woman, Katerina, according to her name tag, shakes her head. “I am sorry. Everything booked. Lots of tourists. Busy summer.” Her English is good, but her Greek accent is thick.
Josefine turns to me and worries her bottom lip. “I guess we don’t have a choice but to share. With the way the rain is coming down, I’m not all that keen on heading back out in search of something else. It’ll be fine, right?”
Is she saying this for my benefit or hers?
I cock my head to the side and shoot her a smirk. “How do you know I’m not a serial killer?”
“That question alone confirms it,” she deadpans. “Plus, you’re too clean cut.” Pressing her teeth into her bottom lip, she gives me a once-over. “Serial killers are squirrelly and unkempt. Also,” she adds, “they have tattoos and wear glasses.”
We obviously watch different crime shows.
“How do you?—”
“Éla! Come.Páme! Let’s go.” Katerina cuts me off much too enthusiastically.
With a nod, I extend an arm, motioning for Josefine to lead the way down the hall. I regret that decision when I’m confronted with the view of her toned calves and ass.
Outside our room, Katerina unlocks the door with a key that looks like it was found among the wreckage of the Titanic. “One key. One bed,” she says.
One bed?
She points at the room through the open door. “Flip switch on wall for hot water. Dinner on other side of building.” Withthat, she turns and leaves us standing there staring at, yup, one bed.
“Um.” I gulp. “I’ll go talk to her. Surely there’s something else available.” I turn toward the lobby, ready to demand Katerina find additional accommodations, even if it means I’m sleeping on a cot in a linen closet.
Josefine grasps my bicep to stop me before I can hoof it down the hall. “No, Cam.”
Cam. No one but my sister and my best friend calls me Cam these days. “You heard her. The B&B is fully booked. It’s a miracle this was even available.”
“Look.” She points to the open closet. “There are extra blankets. You can sleep on the floor, Mr. Serial Killer.”
7
Josefine
We’re here for dinner,but the stranger I’m sitting with is looking like a damn snack. So far, Mr. Hottie-With-A-Backward-Ball-Cap isnota serial killer.But the night is young.
