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Placing her hand on her hip, she flashed him a flirtatious smile. “Grant might have assigned you to get groceries, but he didn’t prohibit you from having company.”
Even if he appreciated her eagerness, he didn’t want to disappoint her. “It’s just a trip to the supermarket. Nothing sexy.”
“When I’m with you, everything’s sexy. Even shopping for yogurt.”
How could he resist an entreaty like that? If they sped through Grant’s list, they might have time for a pit stop.
Since the Jeep was parked at the field house, they made do with one of the rental cars. Olivia adjusted the dial to Viva FM and started singing along to an old Madonna song. Though the drive to Paphos was part of their daily routine during the excavation unit, Rick’s car was always crammed full of students. Driving alone with Olivia was a rare delight. He liked being with her, and not just during their stolen moments of intimacy. He liked working with her, talking to her at dinner, and teasing her over the course of the day.
He parked outside Papantoniou Supermarket, a giant grocery store located in downtown Paphos. When they got inside, Olivia grabbed a cart and pushed it forward with a surprising amount of enthusiasm.
“Why are you so excited?” he asked. “Don’t you shop for groceries at home?”
“Of course. But this is way more fun than going to Safeway. First of all, the signs are in Greek. Second, there are products I’ve never seen before. My sister’s the same way. Whenever she visits a new country, she looks for a local supermarket.”
To him, grocery shopping was more of a chore, but Olivia’s cheerful energy was impossible to resist. As they passed the produce area, he grabbed four honeydew melons and two pounds of apricots, as per Grant’s list.
When they got to the dairy section, Olivia gushed over all the different cheeses. “Ooh. Look at this delicious feta. Can we get some? Or how about this yummy halloumi?”
He tossed in six packages of Laughing Cow cheese. “Sorry, but this is all Grant allows. Makes for an easy snack.”
She made a face. “We’re in Cyprus and we’re getting processed-cheese food? Not cool.” As they moved to the bakery section, she grabbed a box of artisanal Greek butter cookies. “How about these for our afternoon break? Buttery goodness.”
He consulted the list. “Petit-Beurre cookies only.”
“No. Everyone hates Petit-Beurres. Same with Morning Coffee biscuits. They’re worse than graham crackers. Which are only acceptable when used in s’mores.”
“Hang on. Here’s what Grant’s note says: In the event no Petit-Beurre or Morning Coffee biscuits can be located, Papadopolous sandwich cookies are an acceptable substitute. Lemon filling only. No chocolate.”
“He said that?” She snatched the list away. “Damn. He really is picky. I vote for the lemon creams. Pretend we never saw the Petit-Beurres.”
“Fair enough.” He tossed four packages into the cart.
As Olivia rushed over to examine the yogurt display, he had to admit he was enjoying the odd domesticity of cruising through the supermarket with her. Like they were a real couple out shopping together.
When was the last time he’d thought that about anyone? Pretty much never.
Once they’d purchased the groceries and placed them in the trunk, he checked his watch. They could still squeeze in a short detour. The opportunity was too good to pass up.
When he drove past the turnoff to Kouklia, Olivia placed her hand on his thigh. “Rick? Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.” He continued along the coastal road until he reached a small parking lot, empty save for two other cars. Next to it was a tourist pavilion containing a café and restrooms, now closed for the evening.
“What is this place?” Olivia asked, as they got out of the car.
Without answering, he took her hand. He wanted to see the look on her face once he revealed where they were. If she’d had a better sense of direction, she might have guessed where he’d taken her. But this was Olivia.
He led her along a covered walkway that took them under the coastal road. They emerged onto a pebbled beach facing the Mediterranean. Huge rock formations, illuminated by the moonlight, stood out near the coastline. They reminded him of the rocks he’d seen along the Oregon Coast during a road trip with his sister.
The beach was silent, save for the steady crashing of the waves. Olivia gasped. “It’s so beautiful.”
“It should be. It’s Petra Tou Romiou—the birthplace of Aphrodite.”
“I didn’t realize it was this close.”
“The beach is usually packed with tourists during the day, but I wanted you to see it at night, when it’s quieter.”
She squeezed his hand. “Thank you.”
