Page 15 of Brassy Bigwig

As I struggle to walk through the sand in the five-inch tall, strappy, leather monstrosities Shelby made me wear, he must realize my struggle.

“Here, let me help you,” he says.

Without warning, he whisks me into his arms like a prince rescuing a princess. I squeal briefly but quickly wrap my arms around his neck, gripping my hands together tightly as he carries me across the remaining stretch of beach.

Whether it be from close proximity or not wanting to fall, my entire body tenses up.

“You do not need to carry me… oh my goodness, this is embarrassing.”

“Don’t be embarrassed. It’s a good excuse for me to come to your rescue. Let me bask in the glory of being a hero.”

His cocky smile does me in, and I relax immediately.

“Well, if it makes you feel better, then by all means.”

I allow my body to relax slightly, and the devious grin I receive in return sends another rush of warmth through my stomach.

When we reach the dock, I expect him to put me down immediately, but he doesn’t. He pauses for a moment and looks into my eyes. His head twitches in my direction at the same time as my neck cranes slightly toward him.

I lick my lips in anticipation of the kiss, but the longer we stare at each other, the quicker the moment passes.

I feel terrible when he puts me down, and I notice the look of disappointment on his face. Was he expecting me to lead? Was he waiting for a clearer sign that I yearn for his lips on mine? Once again, he puts his hand on the small of my back and leads me to the end of the dock over the water.

“Kalispera. Good evening,” the waiter greets us as we approach him.

“Kalispera,” Trey responds to him in Greek, impressing me even more than he already has. Whatever it was he called me, théa, it must have been Greek he was speaking. I know it’s a saying of admiration, and I’m making it my mission to find out exactly what it means tonight if it kills me.

The waiter pulls my chair out for me. Before I have a chance to sit, I don’t miss how Trey casually forces him out of the way and takes his place. Another brownie point for him.

Taking the wine from the stand, our waiter pours a small amount into Trey’s glass. After he samples it and approves, Trey nods to the waiter, and he fills my glass half way before pouring more into Trey’s. With his attention on the wine, I use this time to slip out of my death heels. I’ll carry them back when dinner is over.

“The chef has prepared a wonderful feast for you this evening. Enjoy the wine. I will be back with your first course shortly.”

“Efxaristo,” Trey answers.

I wonder what he said.

“This is so nice, but I hope you didn’t go to too much trouble.”

What I really wanted to say is, I hope this isn’t costing you an arm and a leg.

“No trouble at all,” Trey winks at me.

He picks his wine glass up at the same time as me, and before I can take a sip, he speaks.

“How about a toast?”

“To what?” I inquire.

He looks at me intensely, as he continues.

“Se afto to omofo vrady me afto to apolafstiko fagito kai stin igeia tis omorfis kopelas pu exo tin xara na dipno mazi tis.”

He could very well have told me I’m an ugly hag, but I would still be practically drooling over the enchanting words. They give me chills and make my heart swell.

What girl doesn’t want a hot foreigner toasting her in their native tongue?

“That’s lovely. What does it mean?” I ask.

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