Toy Boy Read Online Free

done.
    The barman set my drink down.
    “Five euro,” he said.
    I paid then took my drink and bag and moved to the back corner. The floor, like outside, was irregular, and the walls dipped in and out, creating alcoves that held benches and tables, some of which had lit, dripping candles in small holders on them. Around the top of the walls, like a picture rail, sat a shelf bulging with empty beer bottles of every type. They were dusty, and the labels were faded.
    I spotted a table underneath a picture of a lighthouse being battered by waves and made my way past a few more patrons, all men. They were drinking and talking, some were playing cards, others reading. It seemed I was the only woman, but I didn’t care. I just wanted to be alone with my thoughts, drink my wine and lick my wounds.
     

Chapter Three
     
     
     
    As I sat, I took a peek at the door, still hoping Sullivan hadn’t followed me.
    He wasn’t there.
    I took a hefty slug of wine. It was a little sweeter than I liked, but I was glad of the cool liquid and hoped the alcohol would take the edge off the gnawing ache in my heart.
    The men playing cards and the two guys at the bar were ignoring me, as were the ones reading their newspapers, but another man, in the shadows of a recess, was staring straight at me. He had dark hair, dark eyes and a cap pulled low. He was nursing a bottle of beer and didn’t look away when I caught him scrutinizing me.
    How rude.
    I inwardly tutted and again reached inside my bag. This time, I hunted out my iPhone. I wondered if I’d have connection to the Internet. I needed to check flight times for the next day, see if I could get myself back to the UK. It didn’t have to be Heathrow, which was where I’d flown out from. Anywhere would do. I’d bus or taxi back to Oxford from bloody Inverness, the way I was feeling right now.
    I studied the screen. Hoping for Internet had been foolish. I had no signal or connection whatsoever. I tucked the phone away, frustrated, and again sipped my wine.
    What the hell was I going to do?
    I hadn’t used a tour operator to get to Fiscardo. I hadn’t needed to. Maybe the barman here would help me find a Wi-Fi hotspot. I glanced at him—he was talking loudly in Greek to the two men at the bar. Something about him made me think he wasn’t likely to be computer savvy. The Internet probably wasn’t a priority for his establishment.
    The man with the cap was still staring at me. His attention made my jaw tense and the tiny hairs on the back of my neck fan up. It wasn’t an admiring look, it was more of a leer. He was too interested, and he still didn’t care that I’d spotted him staring.
    He smiled a little, one side of his mouth twitching.
    I gave a sharp nod and turned away, hoping that was a clear enough signal that I wasn’t interested.
    It seemed not.
    Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him rise then move my way.
    I swallowed and glanced around. No one was taking any notice of him coming toward the dark recess I’d scurried into.
    Since Thomas had died, I’d always been cosseted by friends and family whenever I’d gone out. I hadn’t been to a bar alone. Yet, here I was, in Greece, a place I’d never been to before, sitting in the half-darkness.
    I reached for my bag and went to move, but as I did so, he pulled out the other chair at my table and sat, effectively blocking me in.
    “Hello,” he said, setting his bottle of beer next to my wine. “I am Juan. What is your name, beautiful?” He spoke with an accent I couldn’t place—Eastern European, maybe.
    I pulled my purse closer and attempted a polite, if weak smile. “I’m sorry, but I’m just leaving. To sit in the sunshine.”
    “Why you want sunshine? It is so much more fun in the dark.” The candlelight at my table flickered creepily over his stubbled face and highlighted a scar on his right cheek.
    “Because it’s too cold in here,” I said, suppressing a shiver. There was something about him that set off my