She manages to do this without meeting my eyes one single time. I catch her darting glances in my direction, her gaze making its way around my table companions but never coming to a stop on mine. Meanwhile I can’t take my eyes off of her. Beautiful. The way her ponytail sways as she places the stack of tote bags on an empty table, brushing against her arm as she bends slightly. How her brows draw together in concentration when a guest asks her something I can’t make out from across the room. The curve of her calves and the delicate shape of her ankles, the sensible ballerina flats on her feet. I’m a goddamned arse for letting her get away this morning, but now I’ve got another chance. Fate, if you will. And judging by this group and the itinerary, she’ll be done with her tour guide duties each evening with time to spare.
Time best spent with me. In bed.
Yes, I plan to become very well acquainted with Miss Hayden this week.
Once the group rises and heads towards the buffet queue the smile drops from her face and she finally sneaks a peek back at me. Her eyes widen when she finds me staring unabashedly back at her and then she spins, her soft pink skirt twirling with her as she exits the restaurant with her head down, thumbing something across the keypad of her phone.
I tell Nan I need to make a business call and encourage her to go ahead and eat with her new Canadian friends while I step out for a bit. Then I follow Miss Hayden and find her outside in the hallway as I’d expected, betting that she can’t run off until the welcome dinner is over. She’s half hidden behind a large decorative planter, one hand holding the phone to her ear and the other pressing against her opposite ear to block out the background noise.
“No, I told him my name was Rose,” she hisses into the phone. Her back is to me and I stop just opposite the planter because why the hell not? Who am I to overlook a golden opportunity to gain a bit of information?
“Why? I don’t know why, it just seemed like a good idea at the time. I thought we were doing a fake name thing. I’ve never had a one-night stand so I didn’t know what the protocol was.”
I smile at that and I’m glad she’s not facing me because I know my smile is likely rather pompous, but I can’t help the satisfaction I feel about being the one to take that honor.
There’s a pause as she listens to whoever is on the other end.
“I’m not slut-shaming you, I’m explaining,” she says with an exaggerated sigh. “And you’re prude-shaming me when you laugh. It’s very hypocritical, Da—” She turns as she speaks and stops mid-sentence when she sees me standing there. “I’ve got to go,” she whispers into the phone and I smile. It’s a bit late for whispering.
“You,” she says in a tone that doesn’t exactly imply that she’s glad to see me. Her hand clenches into a fist then relaxes as she stands a little taller and shakes her head. She pulled the end of her ponytail over her shoulder during the call, wrapping a curly lock of it around her fingers as she talked. It rests against her blouse and I’m inclined to reach out and touch it but I don’t think she’d allow that just now.
“Yes, me,” I agree. “Still Jennings, by the way,” I add with a smirk. She bristles in response. Her eyes flare before narrowing while her lips turn downwards and her arms cross against her chest defensively. “So it’s Daisy then, not Rose,” I say, testing the way it sounds on my tongue. “I wouldn’t have guessed you for a Daisy.”
“Well, I am,” she retorts. “A Daisy,” she states, just to be sure I’m clear. Then she frowns. “Why don’t I seem like I could be a Daisy? Daisys have all the fun.” She waves her arms wide to encompass all the fun she is capable of and I bite back a smile.
“Fair enough.”
“Anyway, I thought you were here for business,” she hisses. “Not on a vacation with your sugar momma.”
“Grandmother,” I correct. I am here on business, if indirectly. I should tell her that. I should.
“Fine.” Her shoulders drop and she shrugs one shoulder. “Your grandmother. You’re on vacation with your grandmother,” she repeats, drawing the word out. “You’re almost forty and your grandmother is still paying for your vacations. Way to go.” She taps her fingers against her forehead and closes her eyes for a moment while shaking her head.
Come again? She thinks my nan is paying for this trip… oh, she’s priceless. And I can work with that. “Dreadful, isn’t it? The economy and all isn’t what it used to be.” I place my hands in my pockets and lean an inch in her direction before speaking again. “But let the journey begin, right?”