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She laughed. “How can you tell the difference?”
“Manta rays are smarter and much bigger. No stinger in the tail. Mouth up front. The stingray’s mouth is underneath and they’re more aggressive. There’s a museum in Chicago where you can put your hand in the water and touch stingrays. Er, cownose rays, but they’re related. I took my niece there about a dozen times.” He pressed his lips together to stop his babbling and the painful jab in his ribs thinking about his family.
“That sounds like a lot of fun. I love stuff like that.” Balancing all the clothes in her hands, she reached over and patted the stuffed stingray. He noted that she wasn’t wearing a wedding ring and for some reason, it gave him a boost of cheer. He wondered if she’d looked down at his decidedly paler hand and noticed the same thing.
Maybe she noticed his sneaky glance, because she smiled; a lips together, mouth curled up in the corner kind of smile, and he felt it like a warm weight on his chest.
“So, where were you headed?” he asked.
She hesitated and he felt guilty for going straight to something so personal. But after a moment she shook her head. “New York. Family visit.” Her face scrunched up in distaste as she said, New York.
Clearly there was more to the story than a family visit and for some strange reason, he wanted to know that story. “So what’s your na--”
The shrill ring of his cell cut off his question. Shit. He wrestled with his stuff to answer it. Without hesitation the woman turned her already-full arms toward him and said, “Here.”
He dropped everything into them, and answered the phone. “Is every–”
“We’ve had a couple incidents, Gabe,” Samantha sounded out of breath.
He rolled his eyes at the nickname. “What’s going on?”
“Still haven’t heard from Jake. He was supposed to be here twenty minutes ago. Got a call from Malik, and he said that traffic is at a standstill and the cabs aren’t running, so he ain’t coming in, unless we can get him some skis. We’ve got homeless people camping in the lobby and it’s too cold to kick them out, but we’re getting complaints from dickheads. Also, that huge crowd of grounded fliers that came looking for rooms a while ago? They were mad we didn’t have any, so they went to the bar and got hammered. Reigna ran out of mid-shelf rum and whisky, so a patron threw a bowl of peanuts at her and she threw it back. Nailed him right in the nose. Blood everywhere. I called the cops to remove him, but they’re up to their eyebrows with the storm. No telling how long it’s gonna be with the way the weather is going. I can handle the bar mess, but there’s no one watching the door or the cameras.”
“Did you call Osvaldo?”
“Yeah, but it’s gonna take him an hour at least. The roads are so bad the poor guy is walking here.”
“Shit. Well, I’ll be there as quickly as I can.” He gave Miss Silky Voice a regretful smile. “Sorry, I’ve gotta go.”
A shadow of disappointment crossed her face, but she nodded. “Be safe.”
That same disappointment rushed through him as he headed for the exit and called the hotel to request the shuttle.
The whole ride back, he stared straight out the window at the blinding white snow and thought about brown, high cheekbones, amber eyes, and a snarky little sense of humor. There was something intriguing about her, and he was desperate to know more--well to know anything, really. Name. Occupation. Age. What kind of toppings she liked on a pizza. The important stuff.
But their moment was gone, and he felt an achy sort of regret about it that he tried to shake off. It was just as well. She would be leaving when the storm passed, anyhow.
The next ninety minutes of Gabriel’s shift were a mess of ornery guests, belligerent non-guests, one furious bartender, a security staff stretched paper thin, and three noise complaints against a couple who were enjoying their bed a little too audibly for other people’s comfort.
Honestly, he was jealous. It’d been a while since someone had moaned his name with such passion while slamming a headboard against the wall. And no one had ever screamed, “Give it to me, big daddy,” at him either, though he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.
When things calmed down he sent Samantha and Osvaldo to get themselves dinner, while he manned the security desk. He glanced at his phone, hoping for a text back from Yasmin, but as usual there was nothing. His little sister was busy with her new life in Seattle, and only sporadically responded to his texts, especially during the holidays. Just like his mom, she preferred to avoid anything that might hurt.
God, he missed them. He missed his whole and happy family. The way things used to be. The way they never would be again.
The phone on the desk rang shrilly and he answered, hoping it wasn’t another complaint. “Security,” he muttered, as he shoved his cell in his pocket and stared down at the camera feed, hoping there wasn’t an issue he’d missed. He usually wasn’t one to let his thoughts wander. A decade in the military had trained him to stay focused on the mission at hand. But for the last three years, his focus had been slipping, and the closer it got to Christmas, the worse it became.
“Hey, Gabe!”
He sighed. “I hate nicknames, Doris.”
“I know. That’s why I keep using them.” The older woman chuckled. “I got someone here asking for you. I’m assuming it’s you anyway.”
His cell dinged and he fumbled for it, while he pinched the desk phone between his shoulder and his ear. “Send them over.” He hung up and turned off his screen lock, but it wasn’t a text from his mom or sister. Just one letting him know that there was a holiday sale at his local market.
Dammit.
“Hi, literal stranger,” a plush, satiny voice said.
