Page 36 of Hot Greek Summer

She’d been about to test Frankie’s quiche, but her mouth was suddenly bone-dry. ‘Umm …’

‘I’m kidding, I’m kidding,’ he said, holding his hand up. ‘Unless there’s something you’re burning to tell me, because I’m all ears if there is.’

She shook her head, feeling out of her depth and gauche. She was sitting in a Greek olive grove having an evening picnic with her enigmatic neighbour, and she had no worldly experience to draw confidence from. She’d never been on a date in her adult life. Not that this was a date, it was food on a blanket with a neighbour. Casual. Keep it casual.

‘So, Jesse,’ she said. ‘Can I ask what you’re working on at the moment? Vaguely?’

His ‘I’m kidding’ face slid into his clammed-up one.

‘A commission for a regular client,’ he said, non-committal.

‘Not plates, I’m guessing?’

He narrowed his eyes. ‘I don’t make plates for other people.’

Right. So they’d both managed to piss each other off a little bit now. They ate for a few minutes and talked quietly about more mundane things to settle each other down: about the ritual of olive harvesting, about her plans to redecorate one of the bedrooms at the B&B, about Corinna and the gallery. Winnie was surprised to learn that she wasn’t an island native; she came from a wealthy family in Athens and the children had spent much of their childhood being educated in the States. That accounted for their immaculate Americanised English, then. Corinna had come here for a summer fifteen years back to recover from a rocky divorce and stayed for a lifetime; that seemed to Winnie to be the case for many who came here.

‘And you? Is now a better time to ask you what brought you here?’ she asked, digging a little deeper.

He laid his plate down on the blanket beside him, and the twist of his mouth told her that it wasn’t a subject he was easy with.

‘Same sorry story, more or less.’ He shrugged. ‘I guess Skelidos is just home to the broken-hearted and dejected.’

‘You had your heart broken?’ Winnie couldn’t imagine anyone less likely to confess to heartbreak.

He took a drink, savouring the wine in his mouth. ‘Not exactly, and it was all such a long time ago now. You learn your lessons, you move on. In my case, that meant coming here. Best damn decision I ever made.’

His bare-bones story told her barely anything really, enough to have answered the question but not even scratching the surface of the truth. His dark eyes hinted that there was much more to know, but they also warned her not to ask because his secrets were his to keep.

‘I guess that makes it my turn to ask a question,’ he said, refilling their glasses.

The wine Winnie had already drunk had eased her nerves a little. ‘Shoot.’

‘When are you going to get back to work?’

She frowned. ‘Iamworking. The B&B is my work now.’

He huffed, clearly not convinced. ‘Sure it is.’

‘Don’t do that,’ she said, offended. ‘I mean it. Making the B&B a success is top of all of our lists. I’m way too busy for hobbies.’

Jesse laughed softly and shook his head. ‘You know, when I first came to Skelidos I said almost the exact same thing. I was going to farm olives and live off my land. No art, no women, and no hassle.’

She let his words settle on her shoulders. For a man who claimed to deal only in pleasure, his line of conversation was turning out to be more than a little painful.

‘Yeah, well, that’s you,’ she said. ‘You’re a man.’

He let that one slide. ‘And you’re an artist, Winnie.’

‘No. Iwasan artist.’ She was already halfway through her second glass of wine. ‘Now I’m a badass businesswoman instead. And a fairy.’

‘A fairy?’ He laughed, sceptical.

She nodded. ‘Yeah, but not a sickly one from a kids’ story. I’m thinking more along the lines of Kylie as Tinkerbell.’

‘Hey, I’m Australian. You’re talking to the converted.’ His gaze touched her mouth as he nodded his approval. ‘I reckon you could pull off that green corset.’

This time Winnie didn’t blush. The wonders of alcohol. ‘I’m far more interested in the wings, actually,’ she said.

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