Page 26 of The Woman in 3B
I peeked through my fingers, but I didn’t drop them from my face. Anissa’s eyebrows had risen so high on her forehead that they threatened to disappear into her hairline.
“Well?” she demanded.
I finally lowered my hands. “I-I should probably get some sleep.” I swallowed with difficulty. “I think your bourbon’s starting to go to my head.”
I didn’t mention that I thought she herself might be a little drunk.
She blinked a few times. “Wow,” she exclaimed. “This is a first. Kicked out of someone’s bed.”
“I’m not kicking you out,” I insisted. “But we both have an early morning, so we should probably just…” I mentally flailed for reasons why what she had proposed wouldn’t be a good idea.
Anissa popped up from the bed like a hot popcorn kernel. “I get it. No hard feelings. I’ll just take my booze and go.” She spun on her heels to face me. “Do you want your pajamas back?”
“What? No.” The thought hadn’t even crossed my mind.
Her hands went to the elastic band of the sleep shorts, which she slowly rolled down until her tan hipbones were visible. “Are you sure?” she seemed to purr. Her tone was thick and syrupy—setting a trap for unsuspecting flight attendants who might tumble into her web.
I turned on my heels before I could see anymore. “Jesus, woman!” I squeaked.
I slammed my eyes shut when I realized I could still see her half-dressed reflection in the mirror on the opposite wall. I was sure she was trying to give me a heart attack. She was far too attractive to be playing with my neglected libido.
I heard her soft laugh. “You’re no fun, Alice.”
I couldn’t come up with an appropriate comeback, so I remained with my eyes shut and my back turned to her.
I only opened my eyes when I heard the soft click of the hotel room door opening and closing. I pried one eye open and, determining it was safe to look again, opened my other eye.
I scanned the room. Anissa was gone, along with all traces that she’d ever been there. She’d collected her bottle of alcohol, the translucent duty-free bag, and the tidy pile of clothing she’d worn that day. With the exception of the residual burning in my throat from drinking her bourbon and my lack of pajamas, I might have believed she’d never come over at all.
Her attraction to me was a surprise, but not the casualness with which she had approached sex. I encountered those kinds of individuals all the time in my line of work. When you spent most of your nights at hotels instead of the place you considered home, the temptation for casual hookups and infidelity was intense.
Sleeping with someone you’d just met in the hotel lobby bar was no more unusual than finding a partner on a dating app. Late nights out at restaurants and bars, idle time in hotel rooms, and in-room mini fridges tended to be a recipe for impromptu hook ups.I probably wouldn’t have slept with Lara so readily if not for the circumstances.
I flopped back onto the stripped-down bed. The sheets were still warm where Anissa had been sitting.
I certainly wasn’t a fan of one-night stands, but maybe a random night with a beautiful stranger would have been just the thing to successfully knock Lara Pierson out of my brain. I rolled over and buried my face into a pillow.
Fuck, I was an idiot.
CHAPTER SIX
I woke up not quite remembering where I’d spent the previous night. The bed was unfamiliar as were the shadowy silhouettes of furniture around the room.It wasn’t a new feeling. My work schedule often had me spending the night in strange hotels. I breathed out into the room as I slowly became more awake and aware of my surroundings. I groaned as I sat up; I didn’t exactly have a hangover, but the ghost of a headache pulsed in the front of my brain. Knowing that she’d drank more than me, I couldn’t help but wonder how Anissa was feeling that morning.
I eased my reluctant body out of bed and pulled back the curtains. More grey skies. I hoped that the weather had cleared enough that flights would be returning to normal. I was still getting paid myper diem, but if I didn’t work my usual flights, I didn’t make my usual paycheck. And any disruption in my schedule could be disastrous for my budget.
A trip to the bathroom and a quick look at my reflection was a reminder that I’d slept overnight in my uniform. I leaned against the bathroom sink and sighed. I couldn’t rationalize why I’d forfeited my only pair of pajamas to someone who was practically a stranger. It wouldn’t have been the end of the world if she’d had to sleep in the clothes she’d worn that day. I could only chalk up my unnecessary generosity to extreme customer service.
I entertained a brief thought about checking on Anissa to see if she needed toothpaste or other toiletries, but I was embarrassed about how the evening had abruptly ended. I also realized I didn’t know which room number was hers. Instead, I showered and got ready for the day as best as I could with the limited supplies I routinely kept in my overnight bag for situations like this one.I felt better and more like myself once I’d showered and had changed into a clean uniform. I re-packed my suitcase, double-checked the room to make sure I wasn’t forgetting anything, and headed for the front lobby.
The front of the hotel was a buzz of activity. I imagined most folks staying at the budget-friendly hotel had been, like myself, stranded at the airport overnight. Rescheduled morning flights had everyone up and ready to go, awaiting the airport shuttles that would bring us back to the Philadelphia airport.
The airport vans hadn’t arrived yet, and the promising scent of coffee had me exploring the lobby area for something to eat. I normally would have waited for breakfast at the airport since my airline paid for my meals, but I doubted I would find time to track down food before I was expected at my gate. Flight crews had to report to their respective gates at least an hour before the flight was scheduled to depart. I probably wouldn’t be working the flight back to Detroit—the original flight had been canceled, meaning we’d all be squeezed onto flights that had already been ticketed and staffed for that day—but there was still a slight chance I would be working my ride back to Detroit.
I found a small breakfast nook just off the main reception area. The floor plan was filled with small tables and chairs. A modest offering of continental breakfast foods, coffee, and assorted juices populated a long, low table against the far wall. The morning news played without volume on a small TV in another corner of the room. That day’s newspaper had been cannibalized with separate sections of the paper scattered around the small room. I scanned the breakfast offerings on the long table, but found them lacking. The free continental breakfast was little more than granola bars and old pastries, probably procured from a vending machine.
I poured myself a cup of coffee and pocketed a granola bar for later. I scanned the room for familiar faces, looking for the other members of my flight crew, when my eyes fell on a woman sitting by herself at a corner table. The oversized sunglasses that she wore inside told me exactly how she was feeling that morning. Her hair was wet from the shower and she wore the same suit she’d been wearing the day before, only more wrinkled and creased from continued use.
I didn’t announce my arrival, but discretely slipped a travel packet of aspirin onto the small table where she sat. Anissa looked up and winced, either from a lingering headache or from memories of our previous night together. She didn’t say anything, but her hand curled around the pain medicine’s individualized packaging.
