Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 99700 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 499(@200wpm)___ 399(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99700 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 499(@200wpm)___ 399(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
According to their folder of instructions, they would find their accommodation somewhere near the very top.
“Shall we?” Victor asked, waving toward the stairs.
And so they did, making their way up the steps, occasionally stopping to glance at shop fares or gorgeous tiles that adorned doorways to private residences.
“Oh, brilliant,” Victor said, making Pandora turn to see him pulling a pretty red umbrella with white trim out of a holder at a shop. “You didn’t pack yours,” he said, handing it to her. He fished some dirham out of his pocket and handed it to the woman, who gave them both a soft smile.
While Pandora trusted Dante’s sunscreen, she was thankful for the added protection. And incredibly charmed by Victor’s considerate nature.
“Thank you,” she said, and they began walking again.
“Thought I was in reasonably good shape,” Victor said a while later, giving Pandora a grimace as they got to about halfway up the hill. “All these steps have proven me wrong on that.” He reached down to rub his aching thighs before starting to climb once again.
When they made it to the top, it was just a short walk toward a private white-stucco home.
It was cozy and neat, set against a backdrop of the mountains with a wonderful view of the Blue City below them.
“This is stunning,” Victor said, back to her, his hands on his hips as he looked at their view.
She had to agree.
But, this time, she was sure she meant him. Even if he clearly didn’t feel the same way about her.
The inside of the house was small, but not claustrophobic, complete with a fully functioning kitchen with a washer/dryer, a living room with two couches, a nice-sized bathroom that had a basket full of essentials waiting for them, and, finally, the bedroom.
Pandora couldn’t help it.
She stopped in the doorway, a laugh bubbling up and bursting out.
It was straight out of one of the books she and Lucy were always reading.
There was only one bed.
It was the oldest trope in the genre.
And one of Pandora’s favourites.
Now here she was, experiencing it.
“What’s so funny?” Victor asked, watching her with his lips curved up and his eyes warm.
“Nothing,” Pandora said. “Just trying to, um, picture Ambrosia here, is all,” she said. “This is lovely.” She took her suitcase over to the side of the bed she was claiming.
“So, what do we do? Explore? Get something to eat?”
“Sure,” Pandora said, really not caring what they did, just kind of excited for some time alone with him without the pressures of her family and the wedding planning.
It was every bit as lovely as she’d secretly hoped it would be. Walking side by side, perusing small shops and wares, stopping when they were tired, to read, sitting beside each other, getting tajine for dinner, trying spiced coffee out of gorgeous hand-painted cups with saucers, soaking in the sights and sounds of this charming town.
Until, eventually, they made their way back to their house.
Where Victor had to go and ruin her excitement about the whole one-bed situation by declaring he was going to let her have the bed to herself and sleep on the couch instead.
She supposed she should be thankful he was such a gentleman, but the ache she felt as she rolled restlessly in the bed alone had other things to say about the whole thing.
When she finally did sleep, she did so fitfully, waking up feeling cranky and tired. Until she smelled the scent of fresh coffee.
It might not have been her favorite drink back home, but she’d taken a fancy to the spiced coffee in Morocco. Enough that she was pretty sure that when she opened her bookshop, they would have to have something like it on the menu.
“Good morning,” Victor said as she moved out of the bedroom to find him standing in the kitchen, clothes still rumpled from sleep.
“Morning,” she said, giving him a genuine smile. “Did you get us coffee?”
“And baghrir,” he said.
“What’s baghrir?” Pandora asked, accepting her spiced coffee.
“Pancakes, essentially.” Victor produced a plate stacked with golden pancakes. “But made with semolina and then soaked in honey and butter.”
“Sounds great,” Pandora said, wondering how hungry she was going to be by the time they made it back to London. She didn’t think there was going to be an opportunity to find somewhere to buy blood, let alone a way to drink it in private.
She would be fine, of course. She’d have to go a really long time without sustenance to actually have to worry about it killing her for real. But she would get hungrier, would start looking at people’s throats, imagining sinking her teeth in.
“Pandy?” Victor asked, making her shake her head and accept the plate he was holding out toward her.
“Sorry. Not awake yet,” she told him as they set their food and coffee on the table.