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His stare intensified. What had he said, something was his? She was way too distracted by his navy blue, wrinkle-free shirt that was spread so nicely across his cut shoulders.
“Sorry, what?” she asked.
He shifted his coat to hang neatly over his other arm. “That is mine,” he repeated more slowly, his gaze dropping to the luggage at her side.
She paused again. His? He thought her suitcase was his? Perhaps the guy wasn’t as sane as he looked. She shifted her body away, holding the handle of her carry-on more tightly. “No, actually, it’s mine.”
His jaw twitched. “Of course you’d be from the States,” he mumbled.
Claire blinked. “What?”
The man carried on as if unaware of her questioning. “It makes perfect sense, given your complete lack of consideration for another person’s time and energy.”
Her lips parted. What in the world was happening right now? Was he seriously criticizing her for being American? Didn’t that only happen in the movies?
His accent was crisp and proper, though his clipped words made him far less approachable than the man on the plane.
“Look,” she began, “I don’t mean to be rude, but can you please just leave me alone?”
She turned away, looking for a security guard in case this crazy person decided to steal her carry-on.
“I’ll leave you alone when you return my luggage,” he said, remaining at her side.
She sighed, turning back to face him. Why did all the attractive ones have to be insane? “This isn’t yours. See?” She swiveled the baggage toward him. “This is my tag right…” She shifted the carry-on back and forth. Where was her purple tag? And how had it turned…black?
She peered closer, only then noting the slightly thinner build of the luggage that was distinctly not hers. The blood drained from her face. What had she done? How could she have been stupid enough to take another person’s carry-on?
As if reading her thoughts, the man explained. “I saw you nick it before getting off the plane. I’ve spent the better part of half an hour trying to find you.”
Her stomach churned. In utter humiliation, she thought back to the kind man who’d let her out into the plane aisle. He must have accidentally swapped her luggage with this man’s. She could have sworn she’d checked her tag before wheeling it off, but then, she’d been so rushed.
With burning cheeks, she slid the man’s suitcase over. “I’m so sorry,” she mumbled. “I really thought it was mine.”
“Clearly.” He snatched the handle from her and secured his fingers around it as if he feared she might take it again. “Perhaps if you used the eyes you were given and looked up at the world instead of dwelling so greatly on posting to social media, this wouldn’t have happened.”
She frowned, swiftly turning her phone off and putting it away. This guy had some nerve. “It was just a mistake,” she defended. “You don’t have to be so rude about it.”
He put on his coat, his clavicle bone appearing as he leaned forward to straighten his collar. “Mistake or not, you’re fortunate I didn’t call security.”
Her mouth dropped open. “For what, me grabbing the wrong suitcase? You seriously can’t believe that I was trying to steal it from you.”
He raised his eyebrows, denoting an expression that revealed he thought exactly that. In silence, he brushed past her, his carry-on rumbling behind him.
Claire stared after his back, her insides swirling with humiliation and indignation. Who did he think he was, talking to a stranger like that?
“Hey, wait,” she called out. “Where’s my suitcase, then?”
The man spoke over his shoulder. “Back where you left it.”
She scoffed in disbelief. A few others standing nearby glanced at her with wary expressions, as if they wondered if she actually was a thief. She frowned at each of them until they looked away, then she turned back to the baggage claim.
With her confidence shaken and nerves frazzled, Claire folded her arms and waited until the carousel finally deposited her large suitcase.
After double and triple-checking her tag to ensure she didn’t make the same mistake twice, she found her way to the service desk nearby, explaining the situation to the worker, who made a few calls to see if she could help Claire locate her carry-on still on the plane.
As Claire waited, her frustration only grew. What sort of person basically shouted at a woman who made a simple mistake, then proceeded to criticize her for being from another country?
Well, at least now she knew what to expect from this trip.
