“That’s not my name.” His hands cover mine, lowering them to my sides, his small smile somehow a demonstration of his amusement and disapproval at once. “But I’m happy to have been of assistance.”
“Well, Lyle did Olive a solid.” Come on, smile a little more for me. “I literally had no idea how to get myself out of that.”
“Raincheck seemed to cover it.” His eyes narrow once more as though regretting the comment. Or maybe he’s remembering how I made him my fake gay cousin.
“I was being polite! Trying not to make them feel uncomfortable. I have no plans of taking them up on their offer, now or in the future.”
Something flickers in his expression, almost like he’s reached a decision. He inclines his head and murmurs that it was nice to meet me. The soles of his shoes scrape against the pavement as he begins to pivot away.
“Wait!” I call out, not ready for the exchange to be over. Not only have my hands developed a fondness for his chest, but he’s like a puzzle I haven’t finished deciphering. A Rubik’s Cube I haven’t finished messing with yet. “Where are you going?” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them, my hand too.
“I’m sorry?” His gaze slices up from where my fingers are currently curled around his forearm, cool blue eyes matching his tone.
It’s true I never was any good with a Rubik’s Cube, not that it ever stopped me.
“Tell me you’re not leaving me here.” Which is clearly what he’s about to do. “Lyle, you can’t leave! I’ve got nowhere to go but back in there.” I point exaggeratedly back the way we came. “I’m staying in that hotel.”
“I don’t quite see—”
“If I go back in there, Mr and Mrs Let’s Get It On might think I’ve changed my mind about that three o’clock appointment.”
“You could always go somewhere else,” he offers, arranging his features into something that looks like polite confusion. But I’m not buying it.
“Somewhere else?” I repeat, not really worried about going back to my hotel room alone but realising that maybe I don’t want to. I also don’t feel like wandering around London because it’s no fun when you’re by yourself. And I would know, having roamed around the city lots of weekends to kill time as I waited for Amelie and Aurora, the kids under my charge, to finish up at birthday parties and playdates. I’ve visited enough bougie cafés and drunk enough coffee to sustain a third-world country’s GDP and wandered around museums and parks, and designer window shopped till I’ve been ready to drop. These are all things I have no plans on doing today. Not when Mr Viking here is intriguing the hell out of me.
“But I might get lost.” The words fall out of my mouth without even a flicker of remorse or the itch to hitch my liar-liar pants higher.
“I beg your pardon?” he asks, his diction razor-sharp.
“I’m on vacation.” It’s not technically a lie. “Today is my last day in London, but my first away from the tour company, and I’ve already gotten lost three times looking for a CVS.” As he frowns at me, I weave my lie a little tighter. “A pharmacy? I have the blisters to prove it. Want to see?” Tightening my grip on his forearm, I tentatively lift my foot.
“That won’t be necessary,” he answers with a worried frown. “I really don’t—”
“Honestly, I’m amazed I found my way back to the hotel.” Oh, woe is me. I’m just a poor damsel lost in the big city and laying it on a little thick. Did I mention I majored in drama in college? “I have such a terrible sense of direction. Oh!” I add as though struck by a sudden thought. “Why don’t you let me buy you a coffee?” I say.
At the exact same time as he says, “Perhaps, I can . . . escort you to the nearest coffee shop?”
“Deal!”
“I’m sorry?” He shakes his head, a little dazed, I think.
“I can buy you a coffee as a thank you and replace the one you left behind.” I slip my arm through his and lean on him a little, but his feet aren’t budging.
“I’d really rather not.” He looks surprised, almost as though the words had escaped from his mouth.
“Oh, do you have to go back to work?”
“No, but—”
“You’ve got somewhere you need to be?”
“Not exactly.” His frown deepens. I’m guessing regret, maybe because he’s not as good at lying on the fly as me. What can I say? It’s a talent.
“I guess I overstepped the mark.” I pull my arm reluctantly from his. “I forgot I was in a big city for a minute.” I frown and bite my lip for good measure, my brow creasing. “I can’t imagine the folks back home turning away a stranger. It’d probably make the evening news.” I look up at him, all sad doe eyes, throwing in a hint of teary glisten. “Come to think of it, it might even make the evening news here. Especially when I wind up lost. Or dead.”
Okay, so I’m not laying it on a little thick but a lotta thick. Why not? I just want to see what I can get away with is my recently adopted motto for life. I just want to see how far I can get. I mean, it’s mostly a case of me faking it until I make it, attitude-wise, but so far, it’s worked out pretty well.
Look at me, hanging out in London. YOLO!
Something tells me Lyle would be good company, as well as excellent eye candy. And he was nice enough to save me from the terrible two-some threesome people, which proves he’s a gentleman.
But no ordinary gentleman, my mind supplies.
Whatever. Being with him will be way more fun than staring at the hotel walls. I might even get a covert photo for my Instagram and caption it:
Hanging out with hotties in London, living my best life!
Suck on that, people of Podunk-Mookatill!
“Do you have a wife?” While this is important, if he answers yes, I’m calling bullshit because that hand isn’t usually home to a wedding ring.
“I don’t have a wife. Why would you ask?” His eyes narrow slightly.
“I just don’t want you to get the wrong idea. I’m not making plans for your body.” Even if it is a really nice body.
A glint suddenly replaces his narrow look, though not like the one he’d shot over the top of his newspaper earlier. That look hadn’t made my insides feel like a ribbon curled on the edge of a pair of sharp scissors. Kind of fizzy but a little afraid. Not the boogie man kind of afraid. More like the kind you get when you reach the top of a roller coaster and anticipate what’s to follow.
Feels a little like an omen. An omen for a thrilling ride?
I give myself an internal shake. This might be a lot of man, but I’m not looking for the kind of entertainment that comes without clothes yet.
“I-I’m just being courteous,” I stammer as he does that wicked eyebrow thing again. “I just mean that if I were your wife or girlfriend, I wouldn’t like to loan you out.”
“Just to be sure I have this right,” he begins, “you think it’s my civic duty to take responsibility for you as a visitor to the country? But only if I don’t have a wife or a girlfriend.”
“I mean, isn’t that what you just did in there?” I gesture back towards the hotel.