Page 3 of Truth or More Truth
“Cheryl,” I cut in, before Bobby can make a bigger spectacle of himself, “you’re telling us there’s no way for us to get to Little Rock today or tomorrow?”
“Not via plane.”
Bobby curses, and I grab his arm and yank him away from the desk as he demands, “I’d better get my money back!”
“Don’t take your frustration out on her,” I say, spinning him away from the desk, which isn’t as easy as one would assume. The man has some muscle on him. “None of this is her fault.”
I holler back over my shoulder, “Sorry about him, Cheryl. You have a good day, now.”
“It might not be her fault,” Bobby grouses, “but it’s her job to get us to Arkansas.”
“No, it’s not.”
He crosses his arms over his chest, shifting my focus to how his sweater strains over his pecs, and I try not to think about how his arm muscles rippled under my hand a few seconds ago.
“Yes, it is,” he declares.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “Bobby, whether it’s her job or not, that woman cannot get us to Little Rock. You need to let this go, and we need to figure out how to get to that wedding.”
“Oh,wedo, do we?”
My finger jabs into his chest of its own accord, nearly spraining it due to the solidity of his pecs.
“I don’t like this situation any better than you do, but we’re both going to the same place for the same reason, so yes,weneed to figure this out.”
He peruses me before he says, “My assistant will figure it out.” Then he pulls his monstrosity of a cellular phone out of his Rollaboard suitcase.
I pluck it from his hands. “What’s your assistant going to be able to do about this? Nothing, that’s what.”
“Then what’s your plan, Einstein?”
I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but it’s our only option. “We drive.”
“ToArkansas?”
“No, to Antarctica. Yes, to Arkansas, you frustrating man.”
Bobby holds his hands up. “Whoa, there, missy. Calm down.”
“Calm down?Calm down?Don’t you tell me to calm down, mister.” I jab his chest again, but not quite so hard this time. I value the use of my finger. “You’re the one who’s been out of control here.”
“Fine. Don’t be calm.” He retrieves his phone from my grasp, sticks it back into his bag, and turns away from me.
“Wait, where are you going?” I ask as he strides away.
“To rent a car,” he throws over his shoulder. “I suggest you do the same.”
I grab my bag and hurry after him. “I have a car.”
“Well, bully for you,” he says when I catch up to him.
“Why are you being such a jerk?” I ask. In all my twenty-six years, I don’t think I’ve ever experienced a man quite so frustrating as Bobby, and considering I went to an Ivy League school and worked on Wall Street, I’ve encountered some real doozies in my day.
“I’ve been told it’s my default mode,” he mutters.
“Seriously?” I smack his arm with the back of my hand. “If you realize that, why don’t you change it? Do youlikebeing a jerk?”
He shoots me a glance and sighs. “Look, I’m sorry. It’s been a long few days, I haven’t gotten much sleep, and I don’t want to mess up any of the wedding plans for Ash and Leslie.”
