Page 31 of Love on the Rocks
CALLIE
“Argh!” I cried as Sokratis stumbled over a rock.
I tried to reposition myself in the donkey’s saddle so that my ass wasn’t being rubbed raw with every step. My naked, bloody legs hung off the side, ankle throbbing. The donkey didn’t seem much happier. Only Giorgos seemed to get a kick out of my predicament. I’m sure this was the most entertainment he’d had in the past month.
He kept chatting at me, chuckling and gesticulating, as he led Sokratis across the arid plateau. The pain from my ankle distracted me from realizing we were going in the wrong direction. Instead of heading to the port, we were descending thehill toward the other side of the island. I couldn’t exactly jump off and run, so I could only hope he wasn’t kidnapping me.
“O giatrós!” Giorgos kept repeating like if he said it enough, I’d finally understand him.
After what seemed like an eternity, we started down the hill, winding around a switchback curve in the rocks when a whole other freaking town came into view.
“What the . . . ?” I mumbled to myself, blinking hard.
“Kamini. Ekeí einai o giatrós,” repeated Giorgios. He was clearly delighted to have surprised me with this magnificent view. From on high, a cluster of elegant houses in pastel hues with terra-cotta roofs dotted the hills. The aquamarine water in the crescent-shaped cove looked like a bright splash of color in an Impressionist painting, sparkling under the sun. This side of the island wasn’t as windy, and it was greener—tall cypresses and pine trees peeked from between the houses and lined the hills. We made our way down, following a small burbling stream that cut through the quiet streets. If only my ankle and my ass weren’t screaming in protest, I could have appreciated it more.
Finally, we came to a stop in front of a pale-yellow house with a blue door. Although he was smaller than me and bent with age, Giorgos let me lean on him as I limped toward the door, which opened into a tiny room with wooden chairs lined up against white walls.
“Oh,doctor,” I said. “That’s what you were trying to tell me.”
I sat obediently in one of the chairs while Giorgos knocked on the inner door and poked his head inside. I could almost make out what he was saying with all the gesticulating he was doing. He even did a little dance, swaying around with his arms in the air. When he finally ended his humiliating imitation of my downfall, an alarmingly familiar deep voice came from the examining room. The hair on my arms stood up.No, it couldn’t be. I was imagining him everywhere.
As I sat there contemplating going to a therapist for obsessive thoughts when I left this place, two young women walked in. They nodded in greeting and glanced at my legs, now covered in dried blood. Their eyebrows shot up, and they sat on the opposite side of the room as Giorgos left with a wink and a tip of his faded fisherman’s cap.
“Efcharistó,” I called after him.
I couldn’t say how long I sat there with my ankle throbbing and my bloody legs on display. The urge to cry once again overtook me. I closed my eyes and swallowed hard to chase it away. The door opened and a female voice rang out followed by that unmistakable deep baritone that always made my insides roil.
When I opened my eyes, there he stood. This time in slacks and a button-up shirt, open at the throat and sleeves rolled up over his gorgeous forearms, his tattoo only just peeking out. When my eyes met his, deep set under drawn brows, I said, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
As he came closer, a hysterical laugh escaped my throat. “No. I’m in no mood for your jokes. Can you just go find the real doctor, please?”
The girls on the opposite side of the room gawked at me like I was absolutely deranged, in between throwing longing glances at Nikos’s ass, which I imagined looked amazing in those pants.
“It’s not a joke. I’m the doctor. Sorry to disappoint you.” His eyes wandered over my legs and fixed on my ankle. He’d never looked at me this way before; there was no heat or disdain in his perusal of my naked limbs. It was purely clinical. Then I remembered the dog; the boy had said it was the doctor’s dog. The doctor who spoke English. My heart dropped into my stomach.
He was telling the truth. He was the fucking doctor.
“Surely you can’t be the only doctor on the island,” I said hopefully.
“Well, there’s also a retired psychiatrist, but I don’t think she’ll be able to help you with that.” He gestured to my rapidly swelling ankle. “Come on, let’s take a look.”
He bent down to help me up and I waved him off. “Don’t touch me. I’m perfectly capable of standing on my own.”
He stood back and crossed his arms, frowning at my determination. And while I was able to inelegantly heave myself from the chair, once I was on my feet (or foot, rather) I had no idea how I was going to cross the room.
Muttering something to himself in Greek, he went into his office and came back holding a pair of crutches. “Do you know how to use these?”
“I think I can figure it out,” I said as I snatched them from him. How hard could it be?
I grunted and swung myself toward the open door to his examining room, frustration and embarrassment propelling me forward.
The examination chair was already covered in paper, and a shiver of excitement went through me. Okay, now I was officially pathetic. How was I turned on by the prospect of being examined by a broody, lying mass of muscles? But God help me, I was almost trembling at the idea of it, my deranged mind already imagining a series of torrid, pornographic scenarios that could play out here.
But I couldn’t let on how turned on I was. That would be beyond humiliating, and this was already horrifying enough. I heaved myself up on the chair and glared at him as he approached. “So where did you get your medical degree anyway? Docs R Us?”
“Columbia.”
“Ha! Of course, the local doctor on an isolated Greek island has a degree from Columbia.” I scoffed, my eyes snagging on the framed diploma above an antique wood desk. It was typed out plan as day, Nikolaos Laskaris, MD. “MD? Is that short for Master of Deception? Let me guess, this was after your BS.”
