“Of course, absolutely. I understand.” I smile at her. “Should we look at the footage from this room? That’d sort it out quickly, right?”
The suit shifts slightly. The large man stands with his hands in his jacket pockets, appearing completely, almost irritatingly, unperturbed. Like this is mildly inconvenient at most. As if he’s watched situations get resolved before and he’s confident this is going to be one of them.
I try not to stare at him. I manage this for about four seconds.
Which is honestly impressive, considering the man looks as though he was built to draw attention. My gaze drops before I can stop it, catching on the sheer size of him, the thick line of his thighs under blue jeans, the heavy shape between them that causes heat to lick up my spine at the worst possible moment. Seriously? Now? My eyes snap upward so fast I nearly give myself whiplash.
He glances at me sideways and catches me doing it.
“You’re welcome, by the way,” he says, low enough that it doesn’t carry to the staff.
“I haven’t thanked you yet,” I say.
“I know.” The corner of his mouth twitches.
“Because I don’t know if you actually did anything yet.”
“You know,” he states.
“I know nothing,” I tell him. Then, because that almost smile is annoyingly smug, I add under my breath, “And don’t start looking pleased with yourself. I haven’t decided if I owe you anything yet.”
The corner of his mouth moves again. Definitely an almost smile.
The suit takes this opportunity to lean slightly toward me with the expression of a man positioning himself as the reasonable party. “I’d be very careful,” he murmurs, in a low, confiding tone. “I don’t know what this gentleman told you, but I’ve been watching him since the gate, and his behavior has been quite suspicious.”
“His behavior?” I ask.
“He’s been loitering. Studying people’s belongings, acting all helpful.”
“Wait, he was watchingmybelongings,” I say. “That’s what you just said.”
“Well, yes, but?—”
“So which is it—he was suspiciously watching bags, or he was helpfully watching my bag?”
The suit opens his mouth. Closes it.
I’m not entirely sure why I’m defending Sexy Airport Vigilante like I know anything about him. Once upon a time, I would’ve said I was a good judge of character. Then again, I also dated Daniel, and he turned out to be a killer, so clearly my instincts come with some fairly catastrophic blind spots.
Another staff member appears with a handheld tablet and two security guards who have the broad, unhurried energy of people who do this regularly, and they gather around the screen and watch for approximately forty-five seconds.
The suit knows what’s on the footage. I can tell by the way he goes very still in a completely different way from the large man’s stillness.
One of the security guards glances up from the tablet and says directly at the suit, “Sir, we’re going to need you to come with us. Our system has also identified you, and it’s not the first time you’ve attempted to steal bags.”
“This is absurd,” the suit blurts out.
My stomach twists hard. The sheer nerve of him, as he tried to take my bag. He deserves all the punishment coming his way.
“It’s really not,” the guard answers in a tone that suggests he’s said this a lot.
And then, with very little ceremony and a lot of his continued objections fading down the corridor, the suit is gone.
I glance at my bag and grab it by the handle, rolling it closer to my side. “Thank you,” I say to the large man, and I mean it properly this time.
“You’re welcome,” he says. NoI told you so.No performance of it. Just quiet and easy, like it’s already done and he’s moved on.
The male staff member appears mortified. He’s sympathetic to us, and then says, “We’d like to offer you each a small apology for the trouble.” He produces two vouchers, and I read them. Then I read them again. “To bump you both up from economy to first class.”
