When the Bus Stopped

Chapter 6

The upstairs balcony was strung with fairy lights. They twinkled around a cafe table adorned with simple cutlery, tea-light candles, and a single rose. In the center of the table was a large champagne bottle submerged in ice.

Lucy had been expecting to find a loaf of bread, a toaster, and a grim-faced companion sitting at a chipped formica table - not this fanfare.

Seeing her reflection in the ranch slider she gasped in horror. The white dress she was delivered from reception (after ringing to see if there was any way she could put her freshly hand washed washed jersey dress in a drier), had been a reasonable length. But, as was a common occurrence when clothing came in contact with her long bronzed legs, it had shrunk terribly.

She was sure she could almost see her black lacy undies. Who knew how many guests had suffered from heart murmurs after seeing her make her way upstairs in this? Or how many casual spectators had played peek-a-boo with her underwear? No wonder the poor bag boy - sent to accompany her from her room to dinner - was a stammering wreck.

Lucy wasn't the kind of girl who liked to torture herself by affixing a mirror to her wall. She had a rear vision mirror which was the perfect size to check for peanut skins in her teeth and for picking the sleep from 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.

Now, she stood awkwardly at the ranch door for a few moments tugging optimistically at her hem. Lucy was forced to accept that there was no way she could magically lengthen her slutty skirt. She would have to choose quickly: dash out and plant her backside down on a cafe seat (before Daniello saw her undies speed past), or race back to her room and wait till her dress returned. Deciding on the second option, Lucy was turning to race away when he stepped into view.

"Hey." He gazed at her.

Lucy felt her heartbeat skid to a stop. Was that look one of admiration?

His gaze devoured her thighs.

"I didn't realize we would be eating outside... I'm just going to grab some more clothes."

"Please don't." His gaze roamed, skimming over her bare arms and her hemline, causing her heart beat to rocket. "I had a gas fire installed. You'll be quite cozy."

Cozy? She'd feel more at home on a raft made of twigs in shark-infested waters. At least she'd know what to expect from any toothy assailants, unlike this one. She eyed Daniello 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.

There was no way she could leave now without giving him a front row view of every pucker of cellulite on her backside. The only way to go was forward. A blush crept over her cheeks as she scurried across the room and planted her bottom in the seat.

"I had one of the girls from reception bring this up." Daniello held out a sand-colored cape. "I realized you might be underdressed."

Under-dressed? She blushed furiously. He already knew she'd wear something slutty? What did he think of her?

She went to pull it over her head, but Daniello carried on speaking.

"It is a blend of possum wool, I believe."

"People cut possums' hair?"

"No, I'm told they put the dead carcasses through a machine and it plucks the fur from their bodies."