The stranger tore her hand away as if she'd been holding a venomous snake and not my shoulder.

"S-s-sorry," she stammered. "So sorry."

I lowered my arm to rest on my thigh, flexing my hand between my knees. "No problem. Are you okay—"

"I'm fine," she cut me off.

"Okay."

She lowered back to her stool as if sinking into unchartered territory, her shoulders tight and lifted toward her ears. To our left, the bartender frantically wrote down room numbers from diners demanding to leave.

"Should I go up to my room?" she asked.

I shrugged. "I was wondering the same thing."

Somehow, she drew even tighter. "I know I said that out loud, but I wasn't actually asking you."

Holding up my hand in unspoken apology, I said, "Understood."

Over the chaos swirling around us, she let out a slow exhale between her pursed lips. Her hands folded on her lap. She held so still she could have been the sculpture of an unsure woman in the 21st century.

I could practically hear Rose snickering in my head,"Billiam, you are a damn fool."

Imaginary Rose made a brilliant point. This strange woman had only given me signals to leave her alone, and I would, but goddamn if it didn't make her sexier.

"You like them so prickly, you're gonna fall in love with a cactus."

I rolled my eyes, even if I was actually irritated with myself and not imaginary Rose.

"So, what are you going to do?" the hot cactus lady asked.

Folding my arms on the bar top, I settled in. "I'm gonna sit here for a while." I jerked my head toward the people lined up to talk to the bartender. "Let that mess calm down."

Meeting the woman's eyes straight on, I continued, "I'm sure the stairway is even worse with people coming down, people going up. I have ten flights to climb, and I'm not looking forward to it."

"That's a lot of stairs."

"It is. So, I'll wait right here. Maybe the power will come on and stay on for a little while and I can take the elevator."

"That's not a bad plan." She nodded, looking straight ahead before her eyes widened. "Our room keys. Will our room keys even work?"

She paused opening the browser app on her phone, when I answered, "Hotel locks are on a battery powered system. Your key should work fine."

Blinking, she locked her phone screen and put her full, surly focus on me. "How do you know that?"

"I'm a general contractor. I've done some hotel work."

"I guess I'll trust you then."

"You can look it up. I don't mind."

"You have calloused hands."

I coughed a laugh, and my jaw tightened. I'd been reduced to "working class" before. It was true, but it still felt condescending. With a bit more bite in my tone than I expected, I replied, "Must have missed my manicure this week."

"I didn't mean to insult you."

"You know, not everyone with calloused hands could answer that question."