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I clear my throat, thankful that he’s still polite and isn’t calling me on my sleep-head, racoon eyes look, and reply, “Thanks. You do too.”
And he does.
Real good.
Rueben grabs the remaining bag that toppled at my feet. “This one yours?” he asks, taking my well-worn suitcase in his other hand.
“It is. But I can carry it,” I quickly assure him, making sure I have my computer bag and purse secured on my shoulder before I reach for my bag. His bag is half the size of mine and doesn’t appear to be bursting at the seams the way mine does. He tosses a garment bag over the top of his and gives both suitcases a pull.
“I can help. I don’t mind.” And then he offers me a smile. A smile that makes my heart tap dance in my chest and the air in my lungs evaporate. Then, he turns around and gives me a view of his ass. His perfectly defined, round ass in a pair of dark jeans. Apparently, dark jeans and a firm ass are my kryptonite.
Quickly sidestepping and walking around him, I head toward the car rental counter. I can feel his eyes burning into my back. Well, specifically, my ass. My suspicions are confirmed when I glance behind me and find Rueben’s eyes locked on my rear. Apparently, black leggings are a guy’s kryptonite.
As I approach the counter and get in line, I tell him, “You can leave my suitcase. I can take it from here.”
He sets it down, and his bag as well. “I’m actually waiting to get a car too.”
We stand in awkward silence for a few seconds. There’re so many questions I want to ask him, but then, I know he’ll want me to spill all the details of my life in the last decade too. And frankly, I’m just not that interesting. Sure, I can brag about my career, but won’t I be doing that Sunday at the brunch? And heaven knows my social life has been a bit lacking these last few years, so it’s not like I want to offer up any of those boring details.
Fortunately, the line moves quickly, and when it’s finally my turn, I set my bags aside and pull my wallet from my purse. “Reservation for Cricket Hill,” I offer politely.
The young woman taps away on her keyboard, pulling up the information. Her smile faulters though as she reads the screen. “I’m sorry, Miss Hill, but it appears there was an issue with your reservation.”
“Issue? What type of issue?” I ask, feeling the eyes of everyone waiting behind me in line.
“Apparently, your card was declined after the reservation was made. You should have received an email to update the card information,” she says, the sad look on her face replacing her earlier smile.
“Email? I didn’t get an email. I haven’t had any card issues,” I start, but then stop in my tracks. My card. It was compromised a month or so back, probably around the time I booked my rental car. Someone in New York went on a shopping spree with my hard-earned money, and the bank cancelled the card and reissued another. I didn’t even think about the possibility of my rental car transaction not going through.
“There was an issue with my card,” I confirm. “I have my new one though. We can put it on that,” I add, pulling my newer debit card from my wallet.
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but the reservation was cancelled completely. We don’t have any vehicles available today to rent. If you can wait until tomorrow, we have a few that will be coming back, and I’d gladly rent you one tomorrow,” she offers, tapping away on her keyboard.
“Actually, that’s not necessary. I have a reservation. Miss Hill can ride with me.”
I glance over my shoulder at Rueben. My face burns with mortification, but he doesn’t seem to notice. Instead, he produces his reservation number and hands the lady his credit card. “That’s not necessary,” I stammer as he steps up beside me.
“No? You’re going to wait until tomorrow to drive up? And miss the game?” he asks, searching my face with a raised eyebrow. It’s as if he knows he’s got me.
And he does.
Exhaling, I shove my own card back in my wallet and toss my purse over my shoulder. “Fine. But I’ll pay for half of the rental.”
“Not necessary, Crick.”
“Maybe not, but that’s the only way I’ll accept the offer,” I tell him, standing my ground.
“Fine. You can pay for half,” he says, shoving his own card back in his wallet after they swipe it. “As long as you let me buy dinner.”
That makes me stutter a breath. “What? No.”
Rueben grabs his bag and the car keys the rental attendant offers him and gives me a shrug. “Fine. Then I guess I’ll see you sometime tomorrow? Whenever you’ll be able to get a car and drive the two hours to Carbondale.”
Huffing out a breath, I go to grab my own bag, yet find it already in his hand. It’s as if he knows he’s got me right where he wants me. Jerk. “Fine. But dinner isn’t necessary.”
“It is. I’m a growing boy and need nourishment,” he replies with a grin and a wink.
I’m left standing there, watching him go, rolling my bag in his capable hand and his butt flexing behind snug denim.
