Room 312
With a deep sigh of resignation, I rap my knuckles against the wood.
The door creaks as it opens, those knowing grey eyes flashing with something that looks like fear. It has to be shock, right?
‘Archer? What are you doing here?’ For a moment, I forget why Iamhere, how I’m supposed to behave when I’m looking at the object of my greatest ire while she’s basically standing in her underwear. Well, almost. A dark blue slip, shimmering like moonlight. A band of lace at the bottom and a filigree of the stuff at the top, and no bra. Yes, she’s also wearing a hotel robe that’s about three sizes too big, but that’s not the important information here.
‘Are you okay?’ She ties the belt hurriedly, cinching it shut.
‘What?’ I shake my head as though shaking off flies. Did the barman give me a double vodka? One flash of her slip and I’m behaving like the sort of man used to women living in purdah?
‘What are you doing here?’ The sharpness of her shock slips away, replaced by something softer.
‘Reporting for love-struck boyfriend duty.’ I click my heels together and mock a salute, and as I sling my suit carrier and weekend bag over my shoulder, she skims it with a worried look. ‘Checking in as the stand in.’
‘Are you staying here, too?’
‘Well, yeah. I thought that was the plan.’ I step forward, and Heather trips back, though I stop her from banging her head against the door by catching her around the waist. ‘Did you miss me?’ She stiffens as I press my lips against her hairline and appears too shocked to do anything as I stride into the room. Four steps and I’m standing in front of the bed.
It’s a very small room. Tiny, really.
‘Is-is your room not ready?’ She turns from closing the door, pushing up the sleeves of the towelling robe only to push her hands into the deep pockets. Something about the size of it makes her look childlike and vulnerable.
Oh, how appearances can be deceptive.
‘Seems to be,’ I say, dropping my bags at the foot of the bed before launching myself across the mattress, landing on my back. ‘Though it’s kind of a small room, babe.’
This is definitely a single person room, the size unhelped by the rich décor of dark green, peppered with copper accents. Wainscoting, velvet drapes, and a studded leather headboard. One nightstand with a lamp, a tall ornate mirror hanging from the wall. A slim French-looking wardrobe in one corner, a dainty chair in the other, a TV set into a wall, and a tall chest of drawers below. There isn’t even space for a luggage rack, I note as I spot Heather’s pink-coloured Samsonite standing upright next to the wardrobe.
‘Because it’s a very expensive hotel. And stop calling me babe.’
‘What would you prefer? Snookums? Darling? Sugar tits?’ At my final suggestion, she folds her arms across her chest, her expression hardening.
‘Okay, so you’ve had your fun. You can leave for your own room now.’
‘But I’ve told you. I’m in it.’ I prop myself on my elbows.
‘I thought—I assumed you’d either drive up and back the same day or get your own room.’
‘You know what they say about assuming,babe.’
‘Archer. Seriously. You can’t possibly stay in this room. The idea is ludicrous. It-it’s untenable.’
‘You’re in the wrong business. You should’ve been a teacher with your big words.’ I do a little jazz-hands thing, then roll my eyes unimpressed. ‘You’ve got the shrill voice and the shrewish manner down.’
Another low dig causing her to sharply inhale.
‘Teachers are nice.’ She tightens her arms, the lace of her slip visible again.
‘Not at the schools I went to.’
‘Probably because you have the personality that would test a nun.’ She steps closer, and for a minute, I think she might stomp her foot.
‘Teachers are ruthless.’Just like you, I think but don’t say because that would be a step too far. Though I’ve accused her plenty of blackmail, it’s coercion at best. It’s also partly a situation of my making. And while a country wedding doesn’t rate highly on my favourite Saturday plans, I’m enjoying myself. Sparring with Heather has, so far, proven to be fun.
‘Don’t be ridiculous. One of my best friends is a teacher, and a warmer or more caring person you couldn’t wish to meet.’
‘Maybe you should set us up after this. I think I’ll need a little nurturing after this ordeal.’
