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Stepping out of her grasp, I put the desk chair between us while I quickly grab the pages from the printer and spin around, not wanting to give her my back for any longer than necessary. I’ve made that mistake before.
“Sorry, Celeste. No time today.”
For the record, a pout isn’t attractive on a woman in her fifties.
I tuck the pages under my arm while walking around the opposite side of the desk, heading back to the door. “I’ll be available by email if anything urgent comes up.” Giving her a hasty wave, I beeline for the lobby, stopping at the reception desk to use a stapler or find a folder for this report, and to check my phone to see if the pilot has responded yet.I can’t even do the simplest of things in the office when Celeste is around.
“Excuse me?”
What now?
Pink-tipped toes in white sandals enter my line of vision. I slowly lift my eyes and come face to face with the most fresh-faced, naturally gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen. Shorter than me, she’s got long brown hair hanging straight down her back and beautiful dark chocolate brown eyes to match. Looking much younger than she probably is,than I hope she is, she’s dressed in light blue denim overall shorts and a baby pink tee shirt. Her toes match her shirt. Her skin is flawless, smooth, and has a pretty blush tone to it.Like she spends a lot of time in the sun.
Something about her, something in her eyes, draws me in. She looks a little scared, a lot hopeful. I suddenly want to know everything about her. Ineedto.
“Can you help me, please?” She points to her bags.
The bellhop is probably assisting guests outside, so my gaze wanders over to the front desk area. Everyone is busy and doesn’t notice her talking to me. Otherwise, at least one would rush right over to intervene. Before that happens, I fold my papers in half and tuck them into my back pocket along with my phone. I reach for the extended handle of her luggage.
“Of course. Which floor are you on?”
She glances down at the key card in her hand. “Twelve. Room twelve fifteen.”
Nodding toward the bank of elevators I stretch out one arm in that direction. “This way.”
I relieve her of a backpack, and take charge of her larger suitcase. We make our way across the lobby, her juggling a coffee in addition to her carry-on, and a purse that keeps slipping off her shoulder. I notice some of the staff look at us with questions in their eyes and confusion on their faces. A few appear as though they plan to intercept, but I stop them in their tracks with a slight shake of my head. The pretty woman, oblivious to the undercurrent, is chatting away about her trip from the airport and the weather as I follow her to the elevator and then press the up button.
“Where are you coming from today?” I ask. With only a few minutes to spend with her, I intend to discover everything I can.
“Idaho.”
“Is this your first time to New York?”
“Yes. It was a last minute decision. My boss is forcing me to take vacation time, not that I need to. I would have preferred to save the money I won because I’ve depleted my entire savings account, but you don’t need to know that story.”
I want to know that story.
“You’re travelling alone?”
“Yup. It’s not something I do often, well at all, but Idesperatelyneeded to get out of town and didn’t have time to beg my best friend to drop everything and come with me.”
The elevator arrives, and we load in, stepping to the side as others join us. She tells me about her flight during the trip and then I lead the way down the hall to her room.
“My friend thought it would be a good idea for me to get away, especially right now. And I have to admit, while I really can’t afford to waste my winnings on this trip, Ireallyneed it.”
“Here you are.”
We stop in front of the door to her room, and she pauses to take in a breath.She uses her access card to open the door. Once she’s crossed the threshold and flicks on a light, I hand over her luggage. NowI’meager to find something,anythingto say that will delay me walking away and possibly never seeing her again.
“Thank you,” she says. “Oh, wait!” She fumbles in her purse.
I hold up my hand. “It not necessary.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive. How about instead, you repay me with a date.” I can’t believe I suggested that. She’s going to think I’m nuts. If I’m lucky, she won’t call the front desk and complain to security.
I watch as she bites her lip, then twitches her mouth as though deep in thought. She’s probably wondering how to turn down an ugly-assed bellhop who just hit on her. She might even be questioning her decision to visit New York thinking we’re all over confident assholes. I’d prefer the latter since I don’t give a damn about my scars.
