The Not So Lonesome Knight: Mistake at the Motel

Untitled Part 15

The brunette stares at the door in his wake far longer than she probably should have, his shirt tucked between her fingers. This notion of putting on clothes that belonged to her annoyingly attractive co-worker felt bizarre. Was this crossing a boundary she didn't even know existed until this very moment? Was it even crossing a line at all because Michael had freely given her the shirt to wear? It would have been different if she had taken it without his permission. Wouldn't it?

Bonnie haphazardly allows her gaze to falter downwards examining the shirt's entirety. She supposed wearing it for one night couldn't harm anyone. It is warmer than she expected. Of course, it had just been removed from Kitt's trunk but it might as well have come straight off of Knight's back. It is this thought in particular that propels her towards the shower. The brunette luxuriates under the stream of hot water for longer than she probably should have given Michael's impending return yet, she doesn't care.

For someone as observant as Bonnie, it felt strange that she hadn't discerned the sheer size of Michael's shirt until the very moment her eyes peer into the mirror. In the glass's silvery reflection, she can't help but notice how dwarfed her smaller frame was when it happens to be draped in the cotton material. The blue fabric extends, reaching for the brunette's kneecaps but never quite makes it. Rather, it falls short by at least four and a half inches, exposing a good length of her bare legs without being inappropriately indecent.

With a laugh, she considers the pair of Michael's shorts she had discovered folded up inside of the shirt. Feeling exposed given her habit of covering up her lanky legs, Bonnie tentatively slides them on over her own undergarments. The result was hysterical even to her. The cinched elastic of the waistband was scarcely enough to hold the boxers up over the curve of her hips. So much for the extra covering! The ensemble was better off without the shorts. Besides, Michael might be fine with gifting her his shirt but would he really be comfortable with seeing her in his shorts? Michael would probably need to have them back. She isn't entirely certain he is aware that he handed them to her in the first place. Bonnie slips them off and folds them up, leaving them to rest on the sink's counter for their rightful owner.

Her sopping dark hair hangs down around her shoulder and she deliberates on pulling the sopping strands into one of her typical ponytails in order to avoid unsightly wet-patches. Imagining his reaction to those same unsightly patches, Bonnie eventually determines to pull her hair back rather than dying of embarrassment later.

Bonnie cringes at the thought of having to use the cheap, pre-selected deodorant sample left by the motel staff. Would it cover-up the pleasant scent of Michel that already encompassed her via his shirt? She hopes not. Bonnie figures she can't very well share a bed with him without applying some form of antiperspirant. Please don't smell worse than petrol, gasoline, or anti-freeze, she internally begs, giving the sample a tentative sniff. She is about to put it on when a wrapping noise against the door jolts her. Could the thieves have returned? Her mind races to life. If a sound could be applied to the rapid pace of her thoughts, it might have been likened to the sudden reeving of an engine.

Doing the first thing she can think of, she barricades herself in the bathroom. Bonnie's heart gives a heavy, painful thump against her rib-cages before beating out a series of SOSes in her ears. Her turquoise orbs seek out a weapon but the only things available to wield in battle were towels, a shady looking toilet plunger, and soap. If she was crafty and quick enough, maybe she could fashion something out of the rod used to hold up the shower curtain. Standing on the thick fiber-glass ledge of the tub, Bonnie finds herself reaching for the rod. The brunette fumbles the second a familiar voice beckons to her. Thank heavens for quick reflexes or she would have ended up falling face flat into the hollow of the still wet tub.

"You okay in there, Bons? It's just me!" He slips the door shut in his wake. Michael is extra careful to bolt the door. Tonight, he wasn't going to be taking any chances.

Through gritted teeth she manages, "I'm fine." Truth was, he could have easily given her a heart-attack. Although, the longer she considers it, the sillier she felt. She had been fully aware that Michael was going to be returning. Why her brain had automatically leapt to the worst-case scenarios, she couldn't directly say. Maybe, it had something to do with the fears lingering in her mind regarding the previous break-in.

Scrambling downwards, she cracks the door open. "The water should be warm again if you want to take your shower. I'll be out in a minute and the bathroom will all yours," she communicates. Her departure from the bathroom, however, is made conditional. "Before I come out, you have to promise not to look."

Michael places one of his large hands on his hips and flashes a smug grin in the direction of the bathroom door. "Oh?" The pad of his thumb is slowly dragged across his lip as he contemplates rejecting her demand. "Okay. I won't look. Scout's honor." He makes a show of raising his hand in the boy-scout salute. He even turns his back to her and presses his eyes closed as a gesture of good faith.

Bonnie gradually emerges from the bathroom and slowly traipses across the room.

It is a real shame Michael had never really been a boy-scout and so he cast a glance over his shoulder at her. Although his full vision is clouded with his eyelashes, he can still make out her figure. Forgetting himself, he whistles. He can feel a strange glow warming the slopes of his finely chiseled face which, boasts a rare blush. A blush that is worn with pride.

The sound causes Bonnie to spin around on her heels. "You peeked! Didn't you!" Twinges of indignation seep into the accusation. She should have expected him to pull a stunt like that. Huh?

"Maybe. Just a little." He motions with his hand. "But can ya really blame me?" Michael cheekily prompts. He turns to face her refusing to conceal the fact that he is gawking at her any longer. Azure hues sweep upwards from her ankles, up the refined clean-shaven curves of her exposed legs, till his vision fixes upon her reddened face. Michael feels confident that his shirt has never better than it did on her far prettier frame. If he didn't know any better, he was falling harder than ever for her. "You're prettier than a picture." Speaking of pictures, he'd like to take about a thousand different ones of her the way she looked in his shirt. The fabric seemed to hang with deliberate ease upon her more curved features and it fell loosely around her middle and legs. How was it he had never taken notice of her legs before now?

"What happened to Scout's honor?" She laughingly questions. Bonnie hates how aware she is of his ogling. She can feel her entire face burning a horrible shade of crimson.

Running his hand sheepishly through his curls he returns,"must'a forgot all about it. Then again, I never made it outta cub scouts. " His grin never wavering. "Maybe you should do a tune-up on my memory banks with those special tools of yours?" He bravely suggests.

"You're incorrigible, Michael Knight!" She plucks the nearest pillow from the bed and swats him with it.

"Would ya want me to be any other way?" He prods. Chuckling loudly, he heads for the shower. He'll definitely need an arctic blast tonight.

Sitting on the bed she watches his retreat to the bathroom. Was there a cryptic message in what he had said? She figures all of the day's excitement had to be tainting her interpretation so she elects to drop it.