Page 17 of Veiled Fantasies

The shower stopped.

Jill jumped out of bed and grabbed her dry clothes, wondering what to wish for: Erik to come out of the bathroom dressed or butt naked. Maybe the middle ground–dripping wet, with just a towel around his waist.

A very small one. One that showed a little hip.

The bathroom door opened and he emerged from a cloud of steam like a Norse weather god, with a large towel wrapped around his waist. No hip, but a whole lot of chest. Smooth. Ripped. Solid. It took everything she had to keep her eyes on his face.

“Good morning,” she squeaked, hitting a high note.

“Good morning.” He grinned, making her core go molten. “All yours.”

You? Or the shower?

She scurried into the weather god’s realm and closed the door on the wild thumping of her heart.

* * *

Back to the airport.

No luggage.

No flights.

No change.

Jill really didn’t mind. She was minding this forced layover thing less and less with every passing shower–um, hour.

She went to check on Louise next. The family appeared to be more or less barricaded inside their room. The two older kids were exploding with energy and the wailing toddler was out of diapers. Still, it took everything Jill had to coax Louise out into natural daylight for the short walk to a nearby store—Mecca for a family stranded with only the clothes on their backs.

“Do you suppose it’s safe?” Louise clutched three kids with two hands, pulling up just outside the hotel doors.

“I’m sure it is,” Jill nodded, feeling only somewhat sure. She’d managed well enough yesterday, but this neighborhood was decidedly scrappier around the edges. The cars looked older, more dusty. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea, after all.

“But how will we understand what to buy?”

“I’m pretty sure we’ll be able to tell the diapers from the camel chow,” Jill said, hoping she was right.

Minutes later, they were in the air conditioned comfort of the store, oohing and ahhing over shelves stacked high with goods labeled in both English and sloping Arabic script.

“Look!” Louise held up a pack of diapers in triumph.

“Hey, T-shirts are on sale!” Jill sang out.

“Mummy, Mummy!” the oldest child cried, scurrying over with a pack of crayons.

They rejoiced over every familiar item, from board games and bottled water to toothbrushes. Dental floss, even! Everything the stranded traveler could desire, other than a plane ticket home.

Back at the hotel, Louise displayed her purchases across her bed like a museum collection while the children shuttled between rooms 514 and 516, presenting their latest works of art. Jill curled up in the armchair and hugged her knees, watching the scene with an inner glow. It was like Christmas, but in the desert. She soaked it all in for another minute, then stood to go.

“How ever did you find a room?” Louise asked.

“Oh, I…I met another traveler who’s letting me share,” Jill stuttered and moved toward the door.

Louise nodded. “That’s awfully kind of her.”

Jill decided this was not the time to harp on details of gender. A kind traveler was a kind traveler, and that was what mattered.

“Yes, very,” she whispered, thinking of Erik. How many harried businessmen would do what he did? Not Roger, that’s for sure. Erik was a real gentleman. One who was already taken, she reminded herself with a sigh.

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