the one who rejected business class and deigned to sit with the common folk. No one would have assumed we were married if you and your Gucci suit had just stayed where you belong in the land of complimentary champagne and leg room.”
“Hey, statistically, the seats in the back of the plane are safer than the first seven rows. And how did you know this suit is Gucci?”
Chloe ignored him and his designer suit, unaware that she was nibbling at her right thumbnail.
Her mother would not be pleased when she found out Chloe wouldn’t be arriving until the day of the wedding. It was customary for the bride’s family to present a united front at the rehearsal dinner. Especially if a certain daughter’s absence would be duly noted and gossiped about.
She took a deep breath. Ben’s fortune cookies were right. Dwelling on the disaster wouldn’t change anything. Accepting that fact didn’t change her mood, though. “So your last name’s Masterson, huh?”
He nodded.
Crossing her arms, Chloe thunked her head against the headrest and closed her eyes. “Fucking Neil Diamond,” she said.
* * *
ASITTURNEDOUT, issuing another voucher did not “just take a second”. The conspiracy theorist in her was convinced Boobzilla had purposefully slowed the process to make sure Ben was miles away by the time Chloe entered the terminal. Not, Chloe was embarrassed to admit, that she hadn’t looked for him at the baggage claim when she finally made it there twenty minutes later, voucher in hand.
After grabbing her suitcase, she’d braved the icy roads in a crowded shuttle and was currently occupying the coveted “next in line” position in one of seven queues in the lobby of the Value Inn. Being this close to a shower and a bed had gone a long way toward taming her impatience. At least until the family of six ahead of her was told there was no room at the inn.
Chloe did a quick mental tally. Judging by the number of weary travelers still clogging the reception area, there were going to be a lot more disappointed people heading out into the snow tonight in search of shelter.
Chloe’s grip tightened on the strap of her purse.
Please don’t make me one of them.
When the balding desk clerk smiled at her, she stepped up to the counter.
“Welcome to the Value Inn. How can I help you tonight?” His voice was shockingly pleasant for a man dealing with a bunch of crabby, stranded nomads.
“Hi. Do you have a room for me?” They had to have a room left. She wasn’t picky. She’d even settle for access to a sink and a cot in the hallway.
“Let me check what I’ve got. What’s your name?”
“Chloe Masterson.”
The clickety-clack sound of his typing stretched her nerves taut, reminding her of a countdown clock on a bomb. “Here we go. And that’s for one night, correct?”
“Yes.” The word came out like a sigh, heavy on the s, and Chloe’s shoulders dropped to their normal position. She hadn’t realized how tense she’d been.
“Okay, we’ve got you in room 224. Do you want a swipe key?”
Chloe raised her eyebrows. “I’ll probably need one to get in the room.”
Her sarcasm was lost on him. Nonplussed, he ran a plastic key through the card reader and handed it over with a smile. “Your room is on the second floor. Turn right when you exit the elevator.”
Chloe paused in the act of unzipping her purse. “You don’t need my credit card? Or my voucher?” She pulled the crumpled slip of paper from her coat pocket and held it out to him. “Because I went through a lot to get this.”
“That won’t be necessary. Your bill will be issued when you check out in the morning.”
Unbelievable. “Oh, okay.” Cursing Boobzilla’s name, she shoved it back in her pocket. “Great. Thanks, then.”
“Enjoy your stay.”
She’d no sooner stepped away from the counter when the inevitable happened.
“Excuse me, folks,” the clerk announced to the crowd. “I’m afraid we are all out of rooms for tonight.”
Finally, something had gone right for her today. She hurried away from the outraged mob and into the elevator. The door slid closed behind her, and she was in such a good mood that she didn’t even mind that the Muzak version of “Song Sung Blue” was playing during the short trip.
The room was as easy to find as Mr. Sunshine had made it sound, and she shoved the card in the door, ready for a shower and a bed, in that order.
Instead, she opened the door to find a hot guy pulling a white T-shirt over the most spectacularly muscled back Chloe had had the privilege to see this side of a movie screen.
Oh, yum.
The forgotten door banged shut behind her.
He turned and she caught a glimpse of six-pack abs before the white cotton swallowed them up. Then she raised her eyes to his face.
Her suitcase slipped from her fingers and landed with a muted thud on the carpet. They stared at each other for an infinite moment—both the longest and shortest seconds of her life.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she said.
A full-fledged grin spread across Ben’s face. “Honey, you’re home!”
* * *
“I SHOULDHAVEKNOWN! The second that clerk didn’t want my credit card or the stupid voucher I should have known.” She stomped into the room like she owned the place, abandoning her suitcase where it had fallen, and then her purse and coat beside it. “Why does today suck so much?” she asked before flopping onto his bed, her feet still flat on the floor as she stared up at the ceiling.
Ben was pretty sure she wasn’t talking to him. Which was fine. He was content just to look at her. To be honest, he’d hung around the baggage claim area for ten minutes after he’d grabbed his luggage, just in case she showed.
Ben had to admit, the pinup-girl-with-an-edge thing Chloe had going on—like some twenty-first-century Bettie Page—was working for him in a big way. Goth-rockers were not usually his type. As a general rule, he dated women who were soft and positive, not really the adjectives that came to mind when he stared at the pissed-off pixie glowering up at him.
“Your airplane girlfriend kept me in voucher limbo for so long that my suitcase was the lone bag circling the conveyer belt by the time I got to baggage claim. Then I almost missed the shuttle, and now this? There’s not even a comforter on this bed.”
“Oh. I took it off. Have you seen what happens when they shine a black light on hotel quilts?”
“That is gross and disturbing. But it’s still weird you got rid of it.”
What was he going to do
