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“In more ways than one,” he agreed. He leaned forward to sip the head off his frothing beer. He replaced it on the table heavily. Mikey wasn’t sure how many he’d had. Only a few, but enough to be more talkative than normal. “My little brother was a selective mute. I guess you could say I feel a connection to Andrew. As soon as I was offered the job, I knew I’d help him if I could.”
Mikey reached out and placed her hand on Bobby’s. There were no sparks. No sudden rush of warmth. Just a companionable hand holding. “What happened with your brother?”
“He was just born that way. Didn’t speak until he was six years old. Then, it was the damnedest thing. Within a couple o’ weeks, he was speaking as though he had been for years.”
Mikey pulled her hand away but Bobby grabbed it, lacing his fingers through hers. She let him, because she liked him, as a friend, and he’d had too much beer to really know what he was doing. “That’s not as unusual as you might think. It’s rumoured that Einstein didn’t speak until he was four.”
Bobby’s smile was broad, his mouth pleasing. Mikey felt nothing, but impatience to get back to the Villa and shower the day away.
“I’ve heard that,” he drawled, in his southern twang. “You telling me it’s a true thing, Cali?”
“So far as we know,” she shrugged, removing her hand from his on the pretence of taking a drink. She finished it, then moved it pointedly towards him. “Do you mind if we call it a night, Bobby?”
He rolled his eyes, in a gesture too childish for his thirty two years. “Aw, come on, Mikey. It’s a Friday, and still early. What’s your rush?”
“You might get the weekends off, but I don’t. I’m going to be up with Andrew first thing in the morning, so it’s not much difference to me if it’s a Friday or Tuesday night.”
“That old battleaxe should deal with him in the mornings,” Bobby complained, referring to the well built and stern Nanny Paxton.
“No,” Mikey insisted, shaking her head. “I like it. He’s more comfortable with me, and I’m going to get the best results from him if he knows I’m there when he needs me.”
“Okay, okay, I get it. You’re a workaholic. Let’s go then, Cali,” he agreed good-naturedly enough, standing up and holding his hand out for her. Again, she took it, not because she wanted to, but because it seemed churlish to refuse.
Besides, on some level, she was having a good time. They walked back to the villa. It was only a mile or so from the small strip of restaurants and bars that serviced the tourist trade. The night was beautiful. Bobby was an excellent astronomer, and what he lacked in knowledge he made up for with nous. “Beside the saucepan is the … er…. Kettle. Steaming kettle. With five points. See?”
She laughed, shaking her head. “You’re silly. And I think just a little bit tipsy, too.”
He pushed open the gate to the villa, tucking an overhanging branch of the geranium shrub out of the way, so that Mikey could step into the garden unmolested by greenery.
“Thank you,” she said, a genuine smile on her face.
He put a companionable arm around her shoulders, as they strolled toward the villa, bathed in silver moonlight. “My pleasure,” he replied, his eyes scanning her face.
Mikey’s heart was racing, but not in the way it always did with Loucas. Now, she was panicked. Could it be possible that Bobby had a crush on her? Had she been unknowingly encouraging him th
is whole time?
She briefly scrunched up her face and whispered a silent prayer. Please let him not make a move!
“We should do this again some time. Just the two of us.”
Mikey shrugged out from under his arm, pretending interest in a strange looking yellow flower. “We have dinner together all the time,” she responded noncommittally.
“Ugh, not now Lord Aleksandros is here. I feel like I don’t ever get to speak to you alone anymore.” His southern drawl had taken on a decidedly whinging tone that made Mikey uncomfortable.
“Come on, Bobby. It’s his house. He has every right to be here.”
“I don’t like the way he looks at you.”
Mikey turned away from the flower, thrown off by the petulant remark. “He doesn’t look at me, does he?”
Bobby let out a snort of disbelief. “All the time. He’s like an eagle watching a faltering buffalo. How do you not see that?”
Her pulse was simmering once more, her mind racing. Was that true? Why hadn’t she noticed? And what did it mean? The simplest explanation was that he was simply watching her to see how she treated Andrew. Surely there could be nothing more to it. The fact that she felt such attraction for him didn’t mean he returned it.
In her moment of distracted thought, Bobby had moved closer, and now, his face hovered just above hers. Mikey startled when she saw how near he was, and he took advantage of her gasp of surprise, to press his lips against hers.
His mouth was wet, his lips thick. His breath smelled of beer and his skin of salt. Everything about his kiss was repulsive, but the man himself was lovely. And she didn’t want to offend him by recoiling, as was her instinct.
