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Just kill her now.
Her cheeks were so hot that she knew she must look like a tomato.
“I don’t think we need to talk about my bowel health,” she said stiffly.
“Maybe you do need to talk to a professional about it if you need these.”
“Well, sometimes when I travel, I get blocked up. And then other times, I eat something that makes me . . . look, I truly don’t think we need to be talking about this!” She attempted to snatch the items back, but he held them up high.
He was abnormally tall. Maggie felt sorry for him. It must be horrid to be able to reach everything without having to jump or get a stool.
Awful.
“Give them back to me! You . . . you complete shitdick!”
As she yelled that insult, the door to the room opened and a dark-haired man walked in. He had tanned skin and his face was clean-shaven. He was a few inches shorter than Grumpy-Knickers-Man, who looked like he hadn’t shaved in days and whose dark-blond hair was in desperate need of a cut. The jerk was built big. Wide in the chest, with thick arms.
And why did she care about what either of them looked like? She should be thinking about Uncle Willy and getting to him before he became upset.
Shit. She hoped he was all right.
“Uh, is everything all right in here?” the new officer asked.
How come he wasn’t in uniform either? This airport seemed very relaxed in some ways and extremely uptight in others.
And really? All right? Did everything look okay?
She’d thought observational skills would be a necessary skill for a customs officer to have.
“He won’t give me my drugs! He’s been touching my underwear. And he wants to inspect my tampons!” she cried.
Right.
Well. She sounded liked she’d lost the plot.
Rein it in, Maggie.
Before they kick you out of the country.
“Um. Right.” Second guy turned to the first one, who was shaking his head at her. “Ian, you want to give her back her medication? And, uh, stop looking at her tampons?”
“I wasn’t looking at her damn tampons or pawing her underwear. Why would I want to?” Ian grumbled.
Ouch.
“Some people like pawing my knickers, I’ll have you know,” she muttered.
Now, both of them were staring at her incredulously.
“What the hell?” the first guy muttered. “Lady, are you?—”
“Hey, I brought the condition of entry agreement,” the second guy interrupted Ian, a.k.a. Grumpy-Knickers-Man. “Why did you need it? Did you lose the other one?”
What had Ian been going to ask her?
“No, I didn’t lose the first one,” Ian said. “She didn’t read it before signing it.”
“Ahh.” The second guy turned to her with a grimace. “You really should read things before signing them.”
