Page 53 of Hacking the Holidays
“Lucky for you—I was just about to call security,” I said.
Rose laughed, then casually glanced out the window.
She did a double-take, then blinked a few times.
“Are you expecting Chloe?” I asked, following her glance, but not seeing her best friend.
“Chloe?” she said, looking a little distracted. “No, she’s still sleeping.”
“I get you all to myself then,” I said with a grin. “Hang on, my food should be ready, since I ordered online. Don’t move.” I took off my jacket, hung it on the back of the chair, collected my bagel sandwich and coffee from the pickup counter, then settled into the seat across from Rose. “This is perfect since I wanted to talk to you about what happened last night.”
“Are you going to make things weird?” Rose asked.
“Me? Make things weird? I think you easily took care of that when you kissed me and then ran away like you were late for aNext Generationconvention,” I said.
“Jean-Luc Picard can call me Number One any day, but that is a complete exaggeration,” Rose said. “I walked away slowly.”
“Whatever you say, Speedy.”
The door chimed, and a woman who looked like she’d stepped straight out of a ski resort catalog walked in wearing an all-white jumpsuit. She glanced in our direction, then pulled out her phone and started typing.
“Here comes trouble,” Rose muttered under her breath.
“Why do you say that?” I whispered back.
She shrugged. “Call it a hunch. I’m getting a bad vibe from her. I’m pretty sure she’s that pickpocket everyone’s been talking about. Keep your hand on your wallet.”
A pickpocket? I studied the woman more carefully, butcouldn’t see what Rose was seeing. She looked much more like a tourist than a local—if tourists typically dressed like Hollywood celebrities who were about to hit the slopes at Aspen.
The woman took two steps toward the counter, then stopped abruptly. She closed her eyes, then her hand shot up to her forehead in what looked like genuine distress.
“She doesn’t look good,” I said, watching her sway slightly.
Rose barely glanced over. “She’s probably just hungry. Happens to me all the time.”
How could she be so dismissive?
The woman was clearly struggling.
She wobbled on her feet, and instinct overrode caution. I jumped up and caught her just as her knees buckled.
“Are you okay?” I asked, steadying her weight.
“Yes—I think so,” she breathed. “Thank you.”
Her arms wrapped around me tightly, and I felt her hands move across my chest as she gripped my shirt for balance. One hand drifted lower, and down my back.
Was she really going for my wallet? Rose’s pickpocket warning suddenly didn’t seem so paranoid. I shifted, angling my back pocket away from her fingers.
“Lucky for me, you were in the right place at the right time,” she murmured. “A robust man to catch me. I don’t care what people say—chivalry isn’t dead. Thank you so much.”
“My pleasure,” I said, attempting to gently extractmyself, but the woman had a vice-like grip. “It’s nothing. Really.”
“I’m Beverly, by the way.”
“I’m Sam. Are you feeling better?”
“Whoa—maybe not,” she said, swaying harder and pulling me closer. “I’m so dizzy. What’s happening with me? It’s the weirdest thing.”
