When the Bus Stopped

Chapter 6

The upstairs balcony was strung with fairy lights. They sparkled against the snow covered handrails.

A table — with simple cutlery, tea-light candles, and a single rose — was centre stage.

Her eyes were fixed on the rose.

What the...?

Lucy had been expecting to find a chipped formica table, a loaf of bread and a toaster.

But, a rose? Wasn't that a bit presumptuous?

She glanced around to check she was alone, and caught sight of herself in the ranch slider.

Lucy gasped in horror.

Half an hour ago it seemed like a good idea to wear the big fluffy dressing robe which she'd found hung in the bathroom. It was clean and dry, while her clothes were damp from being hand washed in the sink.

But that was half an hour before she'd seen that rose. She was seriously underdressed.

Lucy had worn similar things around camp grounds across the country and no one has batted an eye. In those camp grounds she had been surrounded by people, but here she could be raped in peace.

Why couldn't her bathrobe be a bit more prudish? A long bronzed leg poked out the front like she was modelling for some department store ad.

Lucy wasn't the kind of girl who thought out every outfit she wore. Mirrors were simply to help her check her teeth for peanut skins, and for making sure there was no sleep in her eyes.

While her hotel room had been full of mirrors, she'd spent the first half hour in a huge claw-footed tub. The rest of the time had been spent rolling her locs back into shape after the warm soapy water had expanded them to the size of cuban cigars.

She stood awkwardly at the ranch door tugging her robe together over her legs. But then she noticed how exposed the neck was, and she set about clutching the sides together, and then she noticed her leg had shot back out on show again.

She was forced to accept that there was no way she could magically make her bathrobe less  slutty. She would have to choose quickly: plant her backside down on a seat and yank it all together or race back to her room and call the reception to get the man's name off his credit card so her call could be put through to his room. She could tell him something had popped up.

She was leaving the room when he stepped into view.

"Where are you going?"

She swung back towards him, "I ... thought I had the wrong room."

She couldn't tell if he heard her, as he was gazing at her exposed leg.

Lucy felt her heartbeat skid to a stop. She pulled the skirt of her robe together.

"I will just go grab more clothes, I didn't realise we would be eating outside." And then she would ghost him.

His gaze moved to her cleavage. Her cheeks started burning with embarrassment, and she clutched desperately at the top.

Carlos' gaze caught hers. "There is a gas fire. You'll be quite cozy."

Cozy? She'd feel more cosy on a flimsy raft in shark-infested waters than there with him. At least she'd know what to expect from any toothy assailants, unlike this one. She eyed Carlos warily.

One moment he was piling on the mascara like nobody's business, the next he was looking at her like he wanted to cop a feel.

A blush crept over her cheeks as she scurried across the room and planted her bottom in the seat.