“We’re at the airport. I’ve got to go,” I tell her. “You’re my pea.”
“You’re my pod. Love you.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Violet
I’m exhausted. After the trip to the airport this morning I made sure the passengers got checked into the hotel and understood where to meet me this evening. Then I did the same thing all over again for the afternoon pickup. I tensed just a little every time someone asked me a question, worried I wouldn’t have the answer. Add to that, I had George to avoid. Avoiding people is hard work. You’ve got to know where they are every second so you can make sure you’re not in the same place at the same time. Or that if you are, you’ve got a lovely couple from Australia with you as a buffer so that the person you’re avoiding can’t offer you his room number. Just for example.
I’m gonna have to nip that in the bud.
I glance at the bed in my room and consider lying down for just a few minutes, but practicality wins out. I have an hour of free time before I need to meet the group downstairs. I look at my passenger list to triple-check I’m not missing anyone. We only picked up thirty-two from the airport today. The remaining nine made their own arrangements or came into town earlier, but the hotel tells me they’ve all checked in. So I can check that off my list.
Forty-one guests accounted for. Check.
I confirmed the hotel bar has a section set aside for our group tonight and will be serving a small buffet of finger foods promptly at six. Check.
I called the local guide we’ll be meeting tomorrow and verified the location our group will meet her. Check.
Satisfied, I flip open my laptop and check my email to see if I’ve heard from any job prospects. Nothing, I note while biting my lip. I blow out a breath and send a couple of follow-up emails to recruiters I’ve been working with before taking a quick look at my preferred job websites. I manage to send a couple of résumés out before it’s time to shut down and head downstairs. I step in front of the mirror and smooth my hands over my blouse. Daisy’s blouse, technically. There’s no uniform for the tour guides, thank God. The drivers have a uniform. Black pants, a dress shirt, a vest and depending on the weather a jacket on top of that. It’s actually rather attractive, if you’re into that sort of thing. Daisy’s obviously into that sort of thing, I think with a smirk. Gotta love my sister.
Anyway, the guides don’t have a uniform. They’re not allowed to wear shorts or jeans. No t-shirts. Business casual, Daisy said as she packed her suitcase and handed it to me. “I lent you a few things. That sundress you always borrow without asking and the pink skirt I just bought are in there,” she added while I stared at her like she was a lunatic. Obviously that exchange ended with me agreeing to this, so clearly I’m nuts as well.
For what must be the hundredth time, I cannot believe I agreed to do this. But it’s time I got my groove back. Daisy’s not wrong about that. And while impersonating my sister as a tour guide for Sutton Travel isn’t my idea of getting my life together, it’s a start. The pay isn’t bad and I desperately need the infusion of cash. Plus the tourists traditionally tip the guide and driver at the end of the trip and Daisy promised that adds up to a nice little bit.
Besides, I really needed to get off her couch.
Daisy’s got some great clothes, I muse as I twirl a bit in the pink skirt. I’m totally keeping a few of these outfits she packed for me. Bonus pay. She owes me that much for dumping this job on me, because her reasons are not entirely altruistic. If I know my twin, she’s up to something this week.
So I’m going to make the best of this. That’s kind of my motto anyway. Find a way to excel no matter what life throws at you. I’m done wallowing and I’m turning over a new leaf. The battery to my life needed a jumpstart and this is it.
That guy last night was one hell of a jumpstart, I think, grinning at myself like an idiot in the mirror. I can’t help it, I’m feeling pretty smug about how brazen I was. I feel oddly… proud of myself. Is that normal? To be proud of a one-night stand? Well, I am.
Last night life threw a sexy British guy my way and I made the best of it—and I didn’t even have a cheat sheet from Daisy to make it happen. Technically that article from the women’s magazine might have given me a push, but I did it. I walked into the bar and smiled at him, didn’t I? So yes, I’m a bit proud today.
I’m going to make this week my bitch. I’ve got my cheat sheet and my confidence back. I blow out a breath and straighten in front of the mirror. I’ve got a ton of résumés floating around. I sent a few more today and I’ve got two recruiters who believe in me and will call as soon as they have a job lead. They might even call me this week. You never know.