Page 38 of Hired Husband

“I knew you’d like it,” she said, then promptly rescued me from buying a rug from an elderly woman who’d claimed she made it by hand. “That’s complete bullshit. It’s printed. You can see it’s printed.”

I sighed. “Maybe she’s just really good at painting.”

Jasmine laughed. “There’s no way. Besides, how are you going to get it back to Cairo?”

“I can ship it.”

“It’ll never reach your address,” she said, grabbing my arm and physically hauling me away. “If you want a rug, we’ll find you the real thing.”

“That was the real thing.”

“No, that was a tourist trap. We’re almost back to the more heavily populated areas. You don’t buy anything here.”

“You’re denying me happiness.”

“I’m saving you from overpaying for imported crap you can buy on at least two apps on your phone for a quarter of the price.”

“Fine, but if you’re wrong, I’m coming back.”

She arched a steep eyebrow at me. “If I’m wrong, I’ll buy it for you. Now forget about the rug. Better things await.”

“Better than the rug? I doubt it.”

“Trust me, Terrazzina Beach is going to knock your socks off.”

I only pretended to be disappointed for about a second before I caved. “I’ve read about that. Is it as beautiful in person as it is in the pictures?”

“It’s better,” she said. “I literally just told you that.”

She dragged me out of the market to a beach where the sky melted into shades of gold and orange while waves lapped the sand and music drifted from the restaurants lining the shore. Strings of lights decorated every outside seating area and Jasmine headed straight for a table right on the sand itself.

“I’ve got dinner,” I said before she could even glance at the menu. “As a thank you for everything you’ve shown me so far. It really has been an incredible experience.”

“If you’re going to buy me dinner just for showing you around the market, I hope you have some big plans for the rest of the activities on my list,” she joked. “The market is awesome, but it’s also nothing in comparison.”

“Now I’m intrigued.” I leaned forward across the table, holding her dark, glittering gaze and wondering why I suddenly enjoyed spending time with her so much. God knows, I never used to. “What have you got up your sleeve, Jasmine Saad?”

“You’ll just have to wait and see.” She smiled innocently, then ordered food and drinks in Arabic without asking for any input from me.

When our waiter finally left, I narrowed my eyes at her. “What are we getting?”

“Everything,” she said, and I thought she was joking until a mountain of food arrived with our drinks. Colorful cocktails were set down between platters of fresh seafood, spiced rice, breads, dips, and a few other things I couldn’t name. Naturally, she just smiled at me as she waved at the spread. “Bon appetit. I know it looks like a lot, but trust me, we’re going to finish it.”

I eyed the amount of food she’d ordered but didn’t question her. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned since I got here, it’s that I trust you.”

“You do?”

I shrugged. “Weirdly, yes.”

“Why is that weird?” she asked, laughing as she started dishing up. “I’m a very trustworthy person.”

“Maybe, but I didn’t think so when I first met you back in Chicago,” I said honestly. “I actually thought you were a bit of a brat.”

I braced myself in case she threw a prawn at me, but instead of taking offense, she laughed. “A lot of people think that. I wonder why.”

“Yeah. In retrospect, so do I, but I’m pretty sure it’s because you want people to think that’s exactly what you are.”

For a second, she just stared at me. Then she shrugged and started eating. “Alright, Mr. Thayer. If we’re getting deep, I hope you’re ready to play ball because I won’t hold back.”