Read Home to Hellas (The Challenge Series) Online

Authors: Stephanie Beck

Tags: #The Challenge Series

Home to Hellas (The Challenge Series) (2 page)

Though a few inches under six feet tall, Dorian seemed larger. His classic Greek nose dominated his face, but in a handsome way. Hair still nearly black in defiance of his years swept over his forehead, and his deep blue eyes sparkled. His generous heart matched his face. Despite her efforts of the last months to stay stoic and practical in all things, tears threatened when he held open his arms.

“Here, my dear.” He approached and reached for her backpack. “You are in pain. I am glad I didn’t listen to Natalie when she said you didn’t need me to pick you up. She is growing callous.”

Seeing no other option, she removed her tote and passed it to him. She did her best not to flinch when his hand brushed hers. He wouldn’t understand, and she didn’t want him to feel slighted because of her issues. He frowned but hefted the pack.

“I brought my car and will drive you to the house.”

Balancing on the crutches, she followed him out, not that he walked very far ahead of her. He swore he wasn’t a leader, though she’d seen the opposite. He guided differently than anyone she’d ever met, and his ways worked for her. If she had to follow anyone, she was glad it was Dorian.

 

***

 

The last time she’d been in Dorian’s home, where the team bunked when in Hellas, she’d slipped away and gone straight for the bedroom. The two-year lead up to their mutual seduction preceded four summers of lust and play. Pure fun. Although they’d rolled in bed together like a couple of kids, staying afterward never crossed her mind. She had school, he had life, but for those short weeks, they’d enjoyed each other.

Now she lingered in the sitting room, waiting for him to finish a phone conversation and escort her to her room.

When things first heated up, she’d been afraid someone would notice, but they made an unlikely couple. Even when Natalie caught them flirting, she joked about him being very Greek and Jenn very sweet. In following years, they picked up where they left off as if no time passed.

Waiting threw her anxiety into stratospheres not visited since her last cancer clinic appointment. Despite the clean bill of health, she found herself locked in her head at times. Jenn tried to shake her unease, not wanting to taint Greece with her phobias.

Dorian hung up and returned his attention to her. “Hello, my dear. I apologize for the inconvenience. My mother, you see.” His familiar grin soothed her irritation. “She continues to worry I will squander my wealth on wasteful things, like basketball. Now you and Natalie will stay in the main home, the players in the bunks. Is that agreeable?”

She followed him through the familiar halls. He’d redecorated since her last visit, more grays and gold. It freshened everything up and suited his cool but kind personality.

“I would offer my room, since we are alone, but I am thinking things have changed.” He led her past his office.

She shrugged. “My own is better. I don’t have a good explanation for why I’m all…tense. I really don’t.”

He stopped and turned to her. Goose bumps rose on her bare arms. She’d hoped things would be different with him. She’d spent so much happy time with him. Yet, she wanted to lash out just at the possibility of his flesh on hers.

He nodded. “I see. Well, I will get you settled and then perhaps we can talk. Athena is preparing your favorite dishes, and the bakery should deliver their finest in time for dinner.”

He walked on and she hung her head, the tears from the airport returning. She didn’t want to hurt Dorian. The last year had been a special hell she’d intended to leave in the States. He had plenty on his plate without her adding to it. She wanted to have fun with him and make wonderful memories.

His shoes came into view. “I don’t want to upset you.”

She sniffed and winced at the horrible sound. “Well, that was attractive. I’d like to lie down for a while. I’m sorry for being such a mess.”

“I respect your needs but must confess to wanting to tuck you in and hug you until the world is not quite so intense. Come along. You will rest and feel better. I have the sports doctor scheduled for tomorrow. Having her see you today would be overtiring.”

He stopped in front of a door across the hall from his room.

She cocked her head to the side, and he shrugged. “You cannot blame a man for trying. Will you be able to see to your needs? I can have Athena come and help if you would be more comfortable.”

His assumption of a woman’s assistance being easier was off, but spoke to his insightfulness. She reached out and held his elbow, the light cotton of his shirt soft and his body warm. She didn’t get as twitchy if she initiated touch, and despite her fears, she craved some connection with him.

“I’m okay. Nothing, like, traumatic happened. I’m being a big baby with all of this. I’ll get over it soon. Thank you for your kindness.”

He patted her arm, but Angry Jenn didn’t rise up. She still felt in control of the situation and trusted him not to do more.

“I will be ready to hear this story.” He reached toward her cheek but closed his fingers and pulled away before touching “But for now, you need rest. Your eyes are drooping. I will call when dinner is ready.”

He strode from the room and closed the door. She collapsed on the bed and wished she hadn’t when the uncontrolled movement jarred her knee. She shimmied back until her head landed on the embroidered pillows lining the headboard. She should change clothes, remove her shoes, take more medication, get ice…. Instead, she closed her eyes and prayed to wake with a body that didn’t mind being touched.

 

 

Chapter Three

 

 

Jenn remembered her conversations with Dorian about Greek cuisine. She liked to be able to recognize food—at least some of the ingredients. It used to make her mom crazy. Dorian indulged her quirk with the simple yet decadent dishes offered in his home. He never forgot her preferences.

He waited at the small table with a ledger and an electronic tablet in front of him.
He didn’t used to work at dinner
. His old-school manners demanded mealtime be for eating and socializing. When her crutch bottoms squeaked on the marble floor, he looked up and the warm smile she hadn’t realized she’d missed so much replaced his intent frown.

“Hello, darling. You look rested.” He stood and pulled out the chair beside him.

She felt relaxed and more stable, even if her knee ached. She took the seat and beamed his way. “Thanks, I feel a lot better. Dinner smells great.”

“I am glad you approve.” He set his things on an empty chair and poured her a glass of red wine. “You are not on too many medications?”

She shook her head. “I told my doctor I was heading over here, and she agreed I needed to take whatever had the least interactions. I’ve been good about doing more ice than meds.”

“Of course.” He pressed the buzzer near his chair and an older woman with snow-white hair appeared. “Thank you, Athena. Our Jenn has arrived injured this time.”

She tsked and handed over a cool pack. “You must take care or you will stagger around like me before your time.”

“If I’m half as spry as you when I’m your age, Athena, I will be very happy.” She put the ice on her knee and let Dorian serve. He liked to feed people. Caring for others eased the burden of work and stress.

While Dorian piled grape-leaf rolls and simple, flaky spanicopita on her plate along with the delicious bread he always served with meals, she let the wonder of being back in Greece set in. She wished she could remember the names for everything, but the language refused to roll off her tongue, let alone stay in her mind for any length of time. She didn’t need to be able to pronounce what she ate to appreciate the goodness.

“Tell me about your year.” He poured more wine. “I sent a few emails that bounced back.”

Her appetite faltered, as she thought about the months behind her. “Yeah, I took a job with the college, so my email changed. They were supposed to do the big announcement, but it got screwed up. I’m sorry I missed your messages.”

He waved, his gesture very European, vague, and large. “Don’t worry over it. I understand these things happen. I enjoy the quickness of technology, but sometimes I miss the days of a long letter. This new position, what do you do?”

She babysat and did far too much paperwork. “I’m the player liaison.”

“Sounds impressive.”

“Not so much. I got started with it last month. I fiddle with financing and arrange the social, medical, and sports-related seminars and outings for the players.”

“It’s a good start?”

“Good enough,” she replied. “I’d love to be a scout at some point, or coach, but Natalie has those two positions tied up. I was hoping the school would open more positions, but nothing yet. The job I’m doing now is the closest Natalie has ever allowed to an assistant coach—and she has the respect and contacts to keep it that way. I suppose I could have her job in a few decades.”

“Or you can stay a few years and take your experience elsewhere. What else have you been up to?”

She spread fresh butter on the crusty bread. “Well, I spent most of it with my mother. She passed away after Christmas.”

“I am so sorry.”

“Thanks. She was ill with a gnarly bone cancer that hit fast and hard…horrible stuff.”

Watching her mother die had killed part of her. The older woman had been a vibrant teacher one month and a withering mass the next. Test after test, treatment after treatment…nothing made a dent in the disease or the pain. Though she’d held onto life for months after diagnosis, she’d been gone long before the line on the monitor went flat.

“I’m very sorry for your loss.” He patted Jenn’s hand, his comforting gestures easier to accept the more he touched her. “I remember you speaking of your mother with great pleasure.”

“I loved her. Losing her was hard, but I am open enough to think she might be with my father, and that’s a nice picture. Tell me about the amazing things you’ve done while I was away.”

His compassionate expression stayed another moment, but cleared when he relaxed in his chair. “It has been as good as can be expected. The government has run amok and taxes are a nightmare. Everything has been cut or raised…which is why I took over the basketball club and privatized it. Otherwise, it would have fallen.”

“So business is tough?”

“Business is business, and I find myself working much more than I would care to.” He stabbed a bite of lamb. “In exciting news, I am to be a grandfather.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Zoe and her fiancé made the announcement last week. They are in Barcelona where Jose works in high finance. They will do well and welcome a child near St. Valentine’s Day.”

“Congratulations. That’s so wonderful. Zoe will be a great mom.”

The girls’ mother had passed away when they were young, killed by a drunk driver. When Dorian spoke of his long-dead wife, he did so with respect and affection. He’d told her once that enjoying his wife until they were both gray would have been ideal, but he lived what came next, not in the past. It was another of the reasons she adored him.

They ate in silence, the food better after such uplifting tidings. Zoe lit up the court every time she stepped onto it, much like Augusta. The new reality reminded Jenn she’d lost a year and the moments continued to tick by with her stuck in place. She sighed and popped a grape-leaf roll in her mouth. The rice and spices delighted her tongue, and despite her best efforts to dive into dismal, she brightened.

“There is the expression I like so much.” Dorian’s eyes sparkled over his wine glass. “I spoke briefly with the sports doctor. She reviewed your medical records the team doctor sent and recommended some light exercise in the pool and a soak in the ice tub.”

She winced. “Ice tub? You have one of those torture chambers?”

“Augusta’s idea. I do not see the draw, but I understand they help. A swim before your soak might be nice.”

“I think you’re right. I might do that…and stick just my leg in the ice afterward.”

With dinner finished, he stood and offered his arm. The more time she spent with him, the more she remembered how much she enjoyed his company. She let him be her left crutch and leaned more heavily on the right.

“I have new swimsuits in the changing rooms. I ah, I had one delivered with you in mind.”

She snorted and hobbled through the hall. “Why do I have a feeling it might be a little skimpy?”

He had the good grace to flush. “I haven’t the least idea where that notion would come from. I bought it because of the color. It has a sunset of colors. Um,
portokali
…orange.”

His mother had sent him to England for schooling, and he’d spent several years in the States as well, so English came as fluently as Greek. Yet, he’d confessed to sometimes missing words when she was near. She loved getting to him, even in a little way, especially after her less than warm reception.

The hallway to the pool reminded her of all the reasons she liked Dorian. The heavily textured walls spoke of classic Greek taste, though she preferred Hellas over Greece—the word encompassing the spirit of the rustic and advanced land, and of Dorian. Paintings of the sea at rest with brightly colored boats added the whimsy and playfulness she associated with him. Classic and true to culture, but fresh and inviting—Dorian.

He held the glass door to the outdoor patio covered with a mellow yellow awning open. So much about the estate held to the past while finding a way to incorporate the present. His landscaping maintained the same theme.

“It’s lovely,” she said. “So nice.”

“Another addition by Augusta. She demanded we do it correctly. No austere indoor, generic space. We are in Hellas—we must train, swim, and compete as Hellas.”

She nodded. “That’s insightful, but Augusta has always been one smart cookie. What is she doing now?”

“Floundering in this horrible economy.” He scowled and shook his head. “She is much like me. It is not enough to have money; there must be purpose. With so many places closing or tightening their budgets, she is having a difficult time finding employment. I offer her positions in the company, yet she refuses. She wants to be…a journalist, not write letters and copy for any of the businesses we run. I don’t blame her, but she is choosing the harder road.”

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