Page 6 of The Problem with Princes
I stammer. “Umm, I got theGalaktoboureko.”Why am I telling him thiswhen it makes no difference to the story?
“That is a good choice. Especially from Mrs. Psilakis.”
I take a step back. He can be civil? What an unexpected turn of events. “Anyway,” I really don’t want to be in here any longer than I must. “While I was eating, a man on a skateboard pretended to drop something on the ground.”
Ares’s eyes dropped back to his coffee cup, and he pushes his sunglasses back into place. I’m pretty sure that is the universal sign forI’m not listening to you.I stand there, uncertainty humming through me. Should I even finish talking? It is very evident he doesn’t care what I have to say.
“Yes? But he didn’t drop anything?” One of the large men sitting with him speaks up in a thick accent, intently watching me. His English is better than I thought it would be, just from looking at him. Man, judge-y much, Grace?
I shake my head. “No. Once he was on the ground, he used his skateboard to push himself under your SUVs. He didn’t stop under the back one, but he did do something under the middle one.”
All the wrestlers’ eyes at the table are fixed intently on me, but the same one does all the talking. “What did he do?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know, exactly. I only saw him lift his hands into the undercarriage.”
“Is he still there?” The man stood up and while he isn’t much taller than I am, I feel completely dwarfed by him.
Again, I shake my head. “No. I waited until he came out from under the cars and skateboarded around the corner a few blocks down. I pretended not to notice him.”
All the men stand up. The one who has been talking is obviously the one in charge as he barks orders at all the others. He speaks rapidly in Greek, telling them to get outside and check the cars. They spread out like bees looking for nectar, drawing the looks of several people in the shop.
Modern Ares is the only one who stays seated. He looks up at Mr. In-Charge and raises a brow. “Tin pistéveis pragmatiká?”
Do you believe her? Seriously? Why have I made myself sick over this guy? Maybe Mr. Skateboard guy was not so off base after all.
He turns back to me and smirks. Smirks! At me. Jiminy Cricket! Every time I think this guy can’t be a bigger tool, he seems to exceed my expectations.
And yet I still flush as he stares at me. I’m an idiot.
Two men come back inside and move over to Mr. In-Charge, talking in low voices. His face becomes a stony mask, and he turns back to Modern Ares. “Sheisto be believed. The brake line was cut, not all the way through, but enough that we would have lost the brakes eventually.” He speaks in rapid, Greek.
I stand a little taller.Yeah, Modern Ares. Take that. I’m to be believed. I may have smirked at him, but I’m not completely certain. I don’t always have control over my facial features. My mom often says I can’t hide my feelings because they are written all over my face. It kind of sucks.
Mr. In-Charge turns back to me, and I school my features to be less of an I-told-you-so look. “Thank you for informing us of what you saw, Ms.…”
“Kelly. Grace Kelly,” MA says, arching his brow at me.
He remembered the name I had given him? It’s moderately surprising. I don’t get a he-remembers-much-about-anyone-but-himself vibe from him. Should I correct him or just leave it alone and get on with my vacation? I decide to leave it alone. I lift my hand up and give a small wave. “No need to thank me. I was just doing what anyone would do.” I’m not sure that is true. But it doesn’t really matter. I’m ready to get out of here and be done with this guy for good.
“I would like to reward your kindness.”
“Yes, perhaps we could replace your clothes.” MA dips his head toward the dark brown coffee stain on my shirt and pants.
He won’t replace them after he bumps into me and spills his coffee all over them. But he will because I potentially saved his life? Oh, my heck. I can’t even…
I’m at least gratified to see Mr. In-Charge glance over at his boss with a confused look on his face. But it is gone almost as quickly as it came. How does this man, who seems to care—at least a little—about people work for someone like Modern Ares? But while this man is in charge of the wrestlers, it is evident who pays the salaries.
“No, no. I’m good.” I wave my hand in front of me. “Just glad I could help. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I still need to go and change my clothes.” I shoot Ares a look and move toward the door. But I pause after just a few steps. “I’m sure you have very important things to do…like buy new shoes,” I say over my shoulder. Crap. There goes my mouth again. Sometimes I wish it would obey my brain.
I push through the exit before either man can say anything more. I lean my back against the door and take a deep breath.Phew. That is over. Now I can grab Texie and my pastries, and swing by the hotel to make sure my skin hasn’t burned itself onto my jeans. After some quick first aid, we can head back to the overlook bench before the morning is over. I have more reveling to do.
I walk quickly across the street and throw open the bakery shop door. My hands are shaking. Whether it is due to speaking with Modern Ares or seeing MSG—Mr. Skateboard Guy is such a mouthful—I’m not sure. I just know I need to get away from here and calm down. I need to hear waves crashing and seabirds squawking.
“Hey, you get thatbaklavayet?” I try to swallow the wobble in my voice as I glance behind me to see if MA or Mr. In-Charge has followed me to the bakery. They haven’t. My brow furrows. I kind of thought they might be more persistent about the reward thing. Oh, well.
I sag at the thought of not seeing MA again. Ugh! I stomp my foot at my traitorous body.Whatever. No reward is worth spending a minute longer with him.I just need to convince all of me that that is the truth.
ChapterThree
