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“You’re picking me up?” She did air quotes around the ‘picking me up’ part of the sentence and her voice was full of venom. “Is that so?” Her hands were on her hips, but he was not letting his eyes leave her face. He was definitely not letting himself look at the way her leggings clung to every curve.
“Absolutely.”
“More likeabsolutely not! How dare you wake me up with a stupid pick-up line!” She made her voice go low and husky when she said ‘pickup,’ like she was mocking him.
Things had started going downhill when he couldn’t wake her up, and had gently shaken her arm. She’d gone from passed out in REM sleep to awake in high-alert, hyper-vigilance mode, with nothing in between. In retrospect, he should’ve completely changed tack when the wiry blonde had leapt off the couch, her fists clenched before she was even fully upright, her cheeks pink in a way he probably shouldn’t have let himself think was attractive.
“That’s not what I—” He backpedaled, trying to start again. “I think there’s been a misunderstanding. You’re supposed to be expecting me.”
“I’m ‘supposed to be’?”
He couldn’t understand how his attempts to defuse the situation kept making her angrier, and he was starting to regret volunteering to come get her. He’d expected to be greeted with gratitude, not hostility.
“No, please. Listen.” The minute he told her listen he wished he hadn’t, because everything about her got suddenly more intense, like she was gearing up to explode. He rushed the next question out before she could. “Are you Carissa by any chance? Lena’s friend?”
The question made her sharp gaze soften just a little bit. There was no doubt in his mind that the slight woman staring at him with fire in her eyes was Lena’s friend Carissa, but she shook her head.
“Oh my god. Are you… I mean, why don’t you tell me who you are first?”
Good lord the woman was leery. He’d already figured out she was one of those nappers who woke up grumpy. That was fine. He had a lot of experience with people who came off as grouchy— his friend Heath for example. In his experience, a crab was compensating for something else—maybe she was worried, or tired, or hungry. Given the circumstances, his guess was all three, made worse by the adrenaline spike she must’ve had when he’d shaken her awake.
He stuck out his hand and flashed her the grin that his friends said was his secret weapon, which he was clearly going to need if he was going to unruffle her feathers. “Lachlan Devine.” When she stared at him and didn’t immediately take his offered hand, he turned it palm up and made a flourishing bow. “At your service.”
“Heath’s friend Lachie?”
Finally. The relief he felt was like a cool breeze. “That’s me!”
“But you said ‘Lachlan.’ Is that what I should call you?” She said his name like she was testing it out. “That seems respectable enough. More respectable than Lachie anyway.”
Respectable? He hadn’t realised they’d time-traveled back to the 1800s. Luckily he had enough self-preservation not to say that aloud.
“Ah, see, my mates call me Lachie, but as we’re newly acquainted, it’s Lachlan for you. Once we’re friends, you can call me anything you like.” He gave her a quick wink, to let her know he was joking more than anything. She didn’t crack even a hint of a smile, but she’d come up with his nickname on her own, which meant she was putting together who he actually was.
“I thought maybe ‘Lachie’ was short for Padlock or something.” She was loosening up, just a little, and he liked that she was ribbing him instead of fighting.
“Padlock?” He couldn’t help but huff a laugh. “That’s a new one. Is that a common name over in the Americas?”
“Oh yes.” She smiled and it changed everything about her, not a softening so much as a lightening. “Right up there with Lockjaw and Lockbox and Lochie the wee Scottish lake. You can see why I was a little worried.”
“Well, person-who-might-or-might-not-be-Carissa, I am here to alleviate your worries and eliminate your troubles.” He made it sound teasing, but he meant it. He liked setting things to rights, and he was prepared to do exactly that. “But are you Carissa? Because if not…” He made a show of looking around the terminal. “Maybe that bloke over there is the person I’m looking for?”
“Okay, fine. You’re right: I’m Carissa Cole, Lena’s friend.” She was the one to reach out a hand this time and he immediately took it, surprised by her firm grip. “It’s nice to meet you. But, dude. You should not be wearing dick joke shirts to meet women you don’t know. Though I apologise for getting all defensive. You startled me, and I….”
“No worries.” He was still holding onto her hand. He didn’t want to let go for some reason. “I’m sorry I startled you.” He truly was, too. He should’ve thought it through before he’d touched her shoulder, but he’d been at a loss to wake her, when saying her name hadn’t worked. “Even sorrier I wore this shirt.” He really wished he’d worn something that wasn’t a joke. Something plain. He’d thought it would be festive and funny. Guess not.
“I’ll get over it, Big Nick.” She pulled her hand from his, but pinned him with a glare he was pretty sure was all show. “Maybe. Do you really have a cat?”
“I do! Her name is Pickle.” He pulled his phone out, found his pictures, and scrolled to his favourite one. In it, Pickle was curled on his bed, her long ear-whiskers backlit by the sun, her eyes in the half-squint he’d read was a sign a cat liked you. He was always happy to talk about Pickle.
“Pickle?” Carissa’s voice was dripping with skepticism.
“That’s right. You can’t convince me it’s not cute.”
“Well, your cat is definitely cute.” Her smirk was devious, her eyes twinkling with mischief.
He decided to let that one go. “Shall we go on out to the plane?”
Just like that, Carissa’s entire demeanor changed again. He’d gotten her to relax, finally found her sense of humour, and one question made her mouth go straight and her skin fade to a paler and greener shade. He didn’t think she’d physically moved away from him, but he could feel her draw back. “About that. I’m not getting on a plane with you unless you have a license or something you can show me to prove you’re qualified.”
