Chapter Four
The conveyor belt started up with a clunk. As I watched the black belt snake its way between the waiting clumps of passengers, I tried to work out what I should do. We had both been booked onto another flight at 6 a.m. the following day—no, it was the same day, only five and half hours to wait. If I went home, that would be two hours travelling. But I had to be back an hour before the flight was due, which would leave me two and a half hours at home. Which was pointless. No way would I sleep for any of that time. Even though tiredness had seeped into my bones, I doubted I'd get my brain to switch off.
Trying to get a room at the airport hotel was an indulgence I couldn't afford for a five-and-a-half-hour wait. I might as well crash in the lounge as I suspected a few others would.
“That was a big sigh. Everything okay?”
I hadn't realised I'd voiced my internal musings. Beck stepped forward as the first suitcase finally appeared on the conveyor belt.
“Yeah. Just trying to decide if I should go home or crash somewhere in the departure lounge, that's all.” He glanced over his shoulder at me. Stared without uttering a word for a long moment. Uncomfortable under his scrutiny, I let my attention wander over to the luggage making its way around.
“I have a room in the hotel if you want somewhere with a little more comfort.” He glanced back at me again. “Totally above board offer. Just somewhere to sleep. I'll even let you take the bed,” he added as his lips quirked up.
“How do you have a hotel room?” I didn't care how he had a room. Just wanted to avoid answering his question for the moment. Because it was tempting. Oh, so tempting. And not only for the prospect of a bed for the night instead of a row of hard chairs surrounded by the noise of the airport and other passengers.
“I booked it online on the off chance that there wouldn't be another flight tonight as soon as I got off the plane.”
Smart man. The idea had never crossed my mind. His searching eyes met mine, and I knew he was waiting for an answer. Instead, I pointed to a black suitcase with a pink strap around it. “That's my suitcase.”
I stepped forward but Beck lifted it off the belt like it was empty and deposited it at my feet. He turned back to the belt as I raised the handle then slid it back into place over and over. What should I do? Spend the night sharing a hotel room with an almost stranger—admittedly one I was attracted to—who was kind of caring and generous, if not a little secretive. Could he be trusted? More to the point, could I?
But I could already hear my credit card groaning at having to pay for my own room. I'd almost maxed it out for the plane ticket. Even if I could claim it back, I wasn't sure I could afford to pay for it in the first place. And—as much as I hated to admit it—the idea of not being alone for the night was tempting. The almost crash, the uncertainty of what waited for me if I ever got to Malta, the prospect of getting on a plane again in a few hours' time…
Beck dragged a small, grey, hard-shelled case off the belt and looked at me expectantly. I gave him a little nod. Sod it. I always did what I thought I should do. The right thing. For once, I was going to do what I wanted to do. Even if it made no sense. I didn't know much about Beck, but he'd been nothing but kind to me. Protective even.
And I didn't want to spend the following few hours worrying about being on a plane again. It wasn't as though I was expecting anything to happen. But if I got to spend that time being distracted by the sight of Beck's sculpted arms and jean-clad arse…well, it was better than the alternative.
“Okay then. Let's go.”
I followed Beck back into the main airport area and outside. Across the car park bathed in an orange glow from the street lamps. Through the revolving doors into the brightly lit hotel reception where he stopped at the check-in desk and graced the receptionist with a dimpled smile. The one that probably got him whatever he wanted and made my stomach clench. Among other things.
What was I doing? What was Beck doing? I was sure he could sweet talk any woman he wanted into sharing his room for the night. Probably wouldn't need the sweet talk. Hell, they'd fall over themselves to share less than his room. So why was he trying to convince me just to share his room?
Beck bent his knees to get a look at the name badge pinned to the receptionist's chest.
“Hi, Wendy. I have a room booked but my…friend.” He waved in my general direction and I gave the receptionist a smile. Friend? Wendy threw me a sceptical look that said she didn't believe we were friends either.
“I'm sorry sir, but we're fully booked. A flight was cancelled, and we don't have enough rooms to accommodate everyone. I can give you the phone numbers for the hotels nearby. They may have some availability still.”
Beck kept right on smiling at her. “Thank you, but it's fine. The room is booked in my name, but I was hoping you could add my friend's name to the booking.”
Wendy glanced between us and I offered her a shrug. I had no idea what Beck was up to.
“Of course. I'll just need to see some ID and the room number.”
Rummaging through my handbag until I found my passport, I slid it across the desk towards her. When I heard the sound of fingers tapping on keys I turned to Beck. “What are you doing?” I whispered.
He took a step back from the desk, pulling me along with him. “You didn't look entirely sure about sharing a room. This way, it's not difficult to trace where you'll be spending the next few hours. I thought it might put your mind at rest. If I was up to no good, I wouldn't make it easy for the police to find you, would I? And you should text someone. Let them know where you're staying and who with.”
I stared at him, not sure if I should be reassured or more worried. What kind of person came up with a plan like that? I twisted my lips from side to side, trying to find a response. “Maybe you're just trying to lull me into a false sense of security.”
I wasn't sure what Beck's response would be, but I didn't expect him to laugh. A deep rumble of a laugh that made my toes curl. My question from earlier came back to me. “Are you a paratrooper?” His answer played in a loop as he grinned at me. Or something. Or something. Holy fondant icing. What if he was a criminal?
“It's entirely up to you, Kimberly. You don't have to share, but you can trust me. I swear.”
My gaze wandered over his face. The serious look back in place again. Deep, rich brown eyes that held mine easily. Half smile on his lips. He looked totally relaxed. As though he didn't care either way. And he was trying to do me a favour at the same time as making me comfortable. His face wasn't hard to read and I found myself wanting to trust him. Even though that made no sense because I didn't know enough about him to trust him. I did know he'd done nothing to give me a reason not to.
But I'd trusted my mum and she'd kept a huge fucking secret from me. I knew—or at least hoped—she'd concealed it from me for a good reason. To protect me, hopefully. Except I was twenty-seven, not seven. I could handle whatever the reality might have been.
But she'd left me with a future where I would never know why she had kept it from me. If my biological dad hadn't wanted me, I could have dealt with that. Yes, it would've hurt, but at least I'd have known. Instead, I was left with endless questions. Did my biological dad even know I existed? Did Vinnie know he was my stepdad? Had my brother known all along, even though he said he didn't have a clue?
So yeah, trust wasn't high up on my to-do list right then. But it was a goddamned room Beck was offering. And I was way overthinking it. My gaze slid across towards the airport building. Imagined those rows of hard plastic chairs. Annoyed with myself for being so indecisive, I glanced back at Beck. He held my passport out to me, his other hand wrapped around the handle of his suitcase.
It was just a room. Not even for a full night. We were in a hotel on the outskirts of Leeds. There would be a phone in the room. I had my mobile. What was the worst that could happen?
It wasn't like he was pushing for me to stay. He was being a gentleman. And I was being stupid. I took my passport and shoved it back into my handbag.
Giving him a smile as I lifted my head I said, “Lead the way.”