“Sorry,” he said lamely. “I was busy.”
“Busy!” she repeated, clearly not believing him. I didn’t either. What was he busy with?
“And you?” Selma now turned her attention to me. I wiped the smile off my face so damn quickly. “What do you have to say for yourself, lying to me about having a dog?”
I shrugged. “Sorry.”
Something in her expression suddenly changed, as if she was realizing something for the first time. She looked from me to Mark and then back to me. I knew what she was thinking.
“Oh no, we are not together, if that’s what you’re thinking. Trust me. I don’t even know him. We just met. Three days ago. I don’t even think he likes me that much, to be honest,” I finished, and gave Mark a satisfied grin.
“I didn’t say I didn’t like you,” Mark said to me, undoing the good work I’d just done.
At that, both Selma and I glared at him. There was an uncomfortable beat for a moment or two and then Selma turned and looked at me, definite venom blazing in her beautiful blue eyes.
Oh shit!Things were about to go south. More south than they already had.
“No dogs allowed! I’m going to have to ask you both to leave,” she said in a low, firm tone.
“He can’t go anywhere though,” I said quickly. “He’s just had an operation. Can’t you make an exception?”
She shook her head.
“What am I meant to do then?” I asked, a little panicked.
She shrugged. “You could stay in the other hotel in town,” and then she giggled. “Oh, I forgot. I’m the only hotel in town.”
I looked at Harun and then at my hotel room. What the hell was I meant to do now? I guessed I could ask Samirah to look after him at her practice for a few days. But I immediately discarded that idea because then I wouldn’t be able to be with him.
“Fine,” Mark piped up and started walking back to the car. “You can stay at my place for a few days.”
At that, Selma’s mouth dropped open. Mine did too.
“Go pack your things,” he called out to me, putting Harun back into the car. “I’ll wait here.”
“But . . . Uh . . . I . . .” I didn’t know if I wanted to stay with him. But he was looking at me, and Selma was glaring at the dog, whilst also flashing Mark angry-woman eyes, and the tension in the air was so physically palpable and it was getting tenser by the minute. It felt like a stick of dynamite had just been lit and we were all standing there watching the flame travel down the string getting closer and closer and—
“OKAY!” I shouted at Mark then rushed into my room and started grabbing my things.
CHAPTER 29
We pulled up to Mark’s house. It was a little way outside town, and was reached by driving along a dirt road for about five minutes. And when we got there, I couldn’t quite believe my eyes. I climbed out into the hot, unyielding desert sun and took in the view around me.
“You live here?” I asked, staring at the house in front of me which was truly and utterly in the middle of nowhere.
“Yes,” he said casually, as if this was completely normal. As if living in a tiny, cute house in the middle of the desert was a perfectly normal thing to do.
The house was small. Painted a bright shade of white with tiny blue shutters on little windows. A shaded veranda ran the entire length, and on it a wooden table and two chairs. Next to that, a large, comfortable-looking daybed was pushed up against the wall. There was no fence or wall and the house simply stood there, tiny against the massive backdrop. Flat lands surrounded it, no trees, and in the distance, a massive mountain range spread across the skyline. To the left of the house, the only other thing that was taller than the house, was an old windmill pumping water into a round reservoir.
Two big tractor tires lay flat on the ground. They had been painted the same bright white as the house and flowers of cactus and succulents burst out of them. A small path of brightly colored pebbles ran up to the front of the house, to the bright red front door—this place was so quaint and picture-perfect it looked like it belonged in a book of fairytales.
“Oh my God, you should totally put this place on Airbnb, people would love it here . . .” I stopped talking. “Oh. No Airbnb.” I kept forgetting this one important fact. And then another thought hit me. I looked around again; we really were in the middle of nowhere, and honestly, I didn’t know Mark very well. I watched him as he carried a sleepy-looking Harun from his car.
“I don’t really know you, do I?” I blurted out. “And now I’m here. At your house. In the middle of nowhere, and I don’t really know you.”
He looked at me and nodded. “I suppose.”
“So should I be . . .” I chose my words carefully, “worried?”
