The whirring sound of the baggage carousel caught his attention. He moved closer so he could watch for his bag. Soon a plethora of bags came around and he noticed his. He reached out to grab his bag just as someone on his right bumped into him. He looked over his shoulder out of reflex, then felt a jolt fly through his body as he felt a soft hand brush against his. Then he felt a sharp tug.
He turned his eyes locked with the most beautiful almond shaped hazel eyes he'd ever seen. He didn't have a chance to admire the woman, who looked strangely familiar, before she tugged on his bag again.
“You have my bag.”
He shook his head and blinked.
She jerked the bag again.
“You have my bag,” she now said through clenched teeth.
He looked down at the bag and then back at her. “I'm sorry, but you're mistaken. This is my bag.”
“No, you're mistaken.”
He let out a slow breath, searching for patience. “Look, lady. I'm tired and I've got to get to a rental car place so I can get out of here. I don't have time for this.”
“And neither do I, so if you'd kindly let go of my bag.”
She jerked the bag.
He jerked it back.
Her eyes widened, then narrowed to thin slits.
He closed his eyes, counted to three in his head and let out another slow deep breath. Then he opened his eyes and looked at her.
“Look, I can save you a lot of trouble and spare you some embarrassment, by proving to you this is my bag.”
She glared at him. “How on earth are you going to do that?”
“Well, besides just looking at the name tag,” he pointed out sarcastically, “there is a tear on the front left side at the bottom.”
The blush that rose from her neck was priceless.
Clearly, looking too embarrassed to look at the nametag, she leaned down and looked at the front of the suitcase. He couldn't help but noticed how her pencil skirt lovingly hugged her hips and her bloused showed just a hint of cleavage. He felt his body stir in appreciation of the well-shaped woman. He found himself annoyed to have responded so quickly to a rather irrational woman.
She stood and finally released the handle of the bag. Then she turned away without so much as an apology. He went to call her out on it, but heard his mother's voice in his head and something about always being polite. He glanced over at the carousel and noticed a bag that looked exactly like his.
He looked over to the woman and saw she was not watching the bag, so he swiftly picked it up and sat it down in front of her. She jumped in surprise then looked at him.
“Thanks,” she mumbled.
“Don't mention it,” he replied, annoyance still in his voice. He turned to head for a rental car kiosk. Then he looked over his shoulder and shouted, “You may want to check the tag before you leave off with someone's bag.”
|After the Storm-Now available on Amazon|