Page 5 of My Turkish Fling
He turned slowly to peer at me and caught the side of my mouth twitching downwards. “You’re not smiling anymore.”
I gave him a defiant look. “No. Happy now?”
“I’m sorry. It’s not what I wanted. You should smile if you can. If you’re not faking it.”
His accent gave the words an odd rhythm that gave me pause. I was used to the chitchat that followed its own meaningless flow, the words almost secondary to the agreed progression of question and answers that built and then fizzled in a predictable pattern. Nothing seemed to follow a pattern with this man. I didn’t know the steps to this dance. I’d interviewed the most awkward, hostile individuals and I always got something out of them. I could anticipate their moves and approach the topic from different angles. I got what I wanted. But now I didn’t even know what I wanted.
Except for one thing.
“Are you available tomorrow to give Molly her drops? I’ll get a new bottle.”
Emir stared out into the field where the horse had now disappeared. “I can do that.”
“And the day after,” I added, casting a quick glance at his pensiveface.
“Okay.”
“And—”
“How many days?” He shot me a look, eyebrows elevated.
“Seven.” I bit my lip.
“Why don’t you ask for seven days?”
I smiled, my face warm. “I thought I should… ease you in.”
His brow furrowed. “What is this easing-in business? Is it a New Zealand thing? Ask for what you want. That’s the only way to get it.”
If only it was that easy. I cleared my throat. “Would you be available to give Molly her drops for seven days in a row?” My voice nearly broke at the end. It was a lot to ask, and I wasn’t one who asked for help. I paid people. The fact that I couldn’t hire someone to deal with this made me nauseous.
“I’ll do it for the horse. I like her.”
Was he saying he didn’t like me? “Thank you.”
He studied my face for an unnervingly long time. “But there’s something else I want to do for you, and I was warned that you might not accept help.”
For some dirty, inexcusable reason, my heart jumped into my throat, and I only managed to nod.
Emir took a step closer, so close I could smell his spicy aftershave. It’s a cultural thing, I reminded myself. It doesn’t mean anything. I’d travelled in the Middle East where people constantly invaded your personal space, which for us Kiwis was a mile wide.
“My parents are worried that hosting the party willinconvenience you. It’s usually paid for by the bride’s parents but in this case, the bride’s parents are not wealthy. And you’re not even family. It’s not fair for you to spend on this. My parents are more than happy to cover the costs.”
“What are you talking about? There’re no costs to cover! It’s my place and I’m happy to offer it to Aria and Cem. We’re not that strict about protocol down here.”
He stared at me like I’d suggested the earth is flat. “Of course, there are costs. Even the time you put in is quantifiable.”
I met his sharp stare and marveled at the deep brown of his eyes. They were far too beautiful a window to such a cold, calculating mind. “Stop quantifying. I can do what I want with my own time and property.”
“But you worry about money.” He crossed his arms, gazing out to the fields.
“No! I’m fine.”
He turned to me with a look that beckoned me to give it up. “You’d rather ask me to treat your horse for a week than call the vet.”
I huffed. “Maybe I like your company.”
The way he scoffed made me sad. Was that so far-fetched? He wasn’t the most cheerful sort, but he might be able to save my horse and if I was honest, Emir fascinated me. I couldn’t see any of his buttons, but I itched to find them. Push them.
