Chapter Fifteen
Was Christo flirting by calling her koukla?
Bethany looked away, but was pleasantly distracted when she spotted the almond cookies. “Amygdalota.”
“Bravo. Pretty soon you’ll be fluent in Greek food,” he said, playfully tickling her arm.
She smoothed her fingers over her forehead, trying to understand what was happening. Christo was nice, friendly, and cool. Sure he carried more machismo than her male friends in the city, and he didn’t have an issue with touching. Most Greeks she’d met seemed okay with touching—a lot, but he wasn’t rude or presumptuous.
He certainly didn’t give off the “I want to get you naked” vibe. Yet, he’d called her koukla—twice. Paul had called her koukla, but when Paul had said it, she’d wanted to climb into his arms and nuzzle his neck. Not so with the handsome and charming Christo.
“What’s wrong, koukla?”
Make that three times. “What exactly does koukla mean?”
“It translates as doll, and it’s very common when addressing a female we appreciate and like.” He took a loud breath and concern marked his brow. “I apologize if I made you uncomfortable. It wasn’t my intent.”
He switched out his coffee with the frappé chaser. “Adorable little girls are koukles, sisters are koukles, girlfriends, moms, and even grandmothers are koukles. It’s a term of endearment. I feel comfortable with you, and I think we can be good friends. Nothing…” He rolled his wrist as if searching for the right word. Frustrated, he shook his head.
“Say it in Greek,” she suggested.
“Nothing…” He snapped his fingers searching for the right word. “Nothing devilish, sly, or sexually motivated. I meant it a simple way. Like a hug.”
She giggled so hard that the fresh squeezed orange juice sloshed all over her hand. “I’m not sure that a hug is much easier for someone like me to understand, but it’s fine. I’m not offended. I like it that you call me koukla. It’s nice.
“Then why did you have that stormy look in your eyes?”
Blotting a napkin on the mess, she went for casual and dismissive. “Not stormy, just puzzled. Paul said it, too.”
“Ah, now I see. Did he tack a mou to the end?”
She nodded, and he laughed, saying something in Greek that sounded very entertaining. He didn’t bother to elaborate in English.
“This is a conversation for friends who have known each other a very long time and share unconditional trust or bottles of vodka.” When she didn’t object, he took the napkin from her hand and handed her a fork. “We’ll come back to it, if you like, after you try the omeletta. It’s my favorite.”
She gladly accepted the change of subject and cut into the omelet. She moaned as the scent of that special cheese released into the air. “I already know I’ll like it. I think I’m addicted to this cheese.”
Her taste buds agreed, and she gave him a thumbs-up. They tasted a little of each item on the plates, repeating thumbs up for favorites and making the okay sign for good and fresh. Nothing garnered a thumbs-down. They watched windsurfers take to the slick-as-oil water, catching the island’s famed meltemi winds, sipped on their frappés, and spent fifteen minutes in comfortable silence.
“So, Christo Lallas. You’re proving to be a complicated man.”
She met his gaze, surprised with his patience. Something had taught the man that the best way to get an answer was silence. He waited for her to continue.
“By night, you’re a pool-side bartender. Early in the morning, you’re a food tester and guest greeter, and then work the front desk and handle the resort exodus. What exactly is your official title?”
“I’m my uncle’s nephew,” he replied with a matter of fact tone.
“And what do you do?”
“Anything he needs me to do.” He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his stomach. “If it’s a day like today, when ninety percent of our rooms turnover, I work the front desk. When a bartender calls out for a shift, I tend bar. But on an ordinary day, I make sure the staff is on their game and things run smooth. And as for checking on the restaurant, what sane man would complain about having meals cooked for him every morning? Much better than a piece of dry toast at home.”
“So you manage all those departments?”
“I coordinate,” he said, remaining very humble about all he did. “The departments run well on their own.”
“You’re a GM.”
“If you want to label it,” he conceded. “I oversee the resort’s operation, but we are very lucky to have a fantastic staff. Each employee was handpicked by my uncle or my aunt. They are very devoted to him and use their talents to make him proud.”
“I’m sorry about your aunt’s passing.”
“There seemed to be a lot of that going around these past few years,” he said in a low voice. He drank the remainder of his frappé and piled the empty plates on the tray Gianni had left for them.
Realizing it was one of those moments silence encouraged sharing she waited for him to continue.
“Three years ago, my mother got very sick. She refused to come to Athens as her doctor had recommended, so I returned to the island full-time to help with caring for her. She lived her last year exactly as she’d wanted. It was full of great experiences and good memories, and it proved to me that there is no other place in the world I’d rather make my own family. Unfortunately, it will need to be without my parents around. Mama’s heart grew tired and stopped beating.”
“I’m sorry, Christo. She must have been very young.”
“Not young, but not old. My parents tried for years to have children, and I was a late surprise. Mama was in her mid-forties when she had me, and since I have eight years on Paul, you can do the math. She was in her late seventies when she passed. My dad was ten years older than she was, so he was old when his broken heart said no more. He passed one year after her passing.”
She covered his hand with hers and squeezed.
“Thea Vaso lost her battle a few months after my father went. I stepped in to help Kosta when he couldn’t concentrate on the daily activities of the resort. And while Paul and other cousins and family come and visit and are great, in reality my uncle and I have only each other throughout the year. So when it comes to his resort, I get the job done.”
“You live here with him?”
“No,” he said, checking his phone. “We have time so I can show you my home and show you why I love this place. Want to go for a quick walk?”
She glanced at his phone and saw it was five minutes to eight. She leaned her head to the side and looked at him.
“It’s fine. We don’t need to be at the desk until nine,” he said, making her laugh.
She stood and dropped her napkin to the table. “Shoes?”
“Ochi,” he replied, standing beside her. He held out his hand and motioned for her to walk ahead of him. “We’re heading in the opposite direction, on the other side of the cliff. It’s low tide and the water is shallow. Your dress won’t get wet.” He chuckled and then stepped out of her reach, placing his hands before him in a protective stance. “That’s if you hike it up a few inches and piss off the forces above.”
She tried to land a playful smack, but he caught her wrist in mid-air.
“It’s going to be fun having you around, koukla. You make me laugh.”
“Ditto,” she said, then stepped into him and hugged him. “I don’t know the male version of koukla yet.”
“Ochi, koukla. It doesn’t translate the same,” he said, adamantly shaking his head and hugging her tight. “However, I wasn’t teasing about pissing off the forces above.”
She looked over his shoulder and up at the terrace. Sure enough, two rigid forms were silhouetted in the sunlight; one with his arms crossed over his chest, the other with his hands in his pockets, and both with legs planted in a combative stance.
They’d understand and calm down when—
“No. Not going there,” Bethany said, as the reality of her situation body slammed her. “BFFs have no say in who I spend my time with. Screw them.”
He kissed the tip of her nose and burst out laughing. He laughed so hard that he released her and placed his hands on his knees and kept laughing.
“I’m serious,” she said, her cheeks getting hot. “I could offer my naked body to them on a silver platter, but they just want to be friends.”
“That’s not what I saw last night.”
“That’s what it is. They have no interest in getting some of this.” She ran her hands down her body for emphasis. “They’re immune.”
“And you?”
Only slightly embarrassed, she shrugged. “I’m not dead.”
“Malakes.”
She’d heard that word repeatedly; it was very popular, very colorful, and she wasn’t about to ask him to translate the exact meaning of one of the biggest curse words in his language. Jerks, fuckers, assholes, was probably close enough.
“It doesn’t matter. They can’t handle me anyway.”
“I’m not convinced,” he said, shaking his head and bending over laughing again. Holding a finger into the air, he caught his breath and grinned. “It would be interesting for sure. So, in the spirit of good fun, my lothario reputation, as Justin put it last night, is at your full disposal. Nothing will make a man, and his man, realize what they want than thinking a big, bad cousin is making moves on the woman of their dreams.”
She wasn’t the woman of their dreams.
“I think you have it wrong,” she said.
“I don’t think so. I know what I saw. My eyes don’t lie.” Christo placed his hands on her shoulder and turned her around. “Come on. Let me show you the beautiful home my parents built, and the gorgeous vineyard I made them sell because I was too young and too stupid to know better. It’s the vineyard I’m going to buy back at the end of the summer. Even if I told them I was never going to be a winemaker.”
“You’re going to live on the island year-round, permanently?”
“I am,” he said, nodding and leading her down the beach. “And here is the fair warning I must share with the probable Boss Lady, not my new friend.”
“Go on,” she urged, strangely comfortable with the man.
“If you do go ahead with the purchase of Vaso’s Dream, we’ll be neighbors. I won’t be putting in an application for general manager, but I do have someone in mind, someone I’ve been working with to take my place and help my uncle once I start work on the vineyard.”
“You’re definitely leaving?”
“I am.”
Disappointment filled her. Not only was she confident Christo was a good and loyal manager, but she had a feeling he’d be someone she could always lean on.
“That’s too bad, Christo. You’ve done a great job for Kosta, and I don’t doubt you’d be a great fit with Luxury Homes. I have a feeling I’ll miss working together.”
He grinned that panty-melting grin and she had no doubt he could get the staff to do his bidding with ease.
Lallas charm, she thought. They all had it.
“Now that we’re friends, I will never abandon you if you need me,” Christo said. “I can take care of all the boring stuff for your company the same way I do for my uncle, until you’re set. I’ll do what it takes to keep Vaso’s Dream beautiful. But, Miss Sexy Boss Lady, if it happens, you and I will be neighbors. We’re going to need to work together and get along well so our lives are good.”
“Duly noted, Mr. Lallas.”