Stand-In Saturday (Love For Days #2) - Kirsty Moseley Page 0,22

as she drags her luggage along. A different but still ridiculously large handbag hangs from the crook of her elbow. Stopping in front of me, she looks up, and her eyes meet mine. She seems uncertain, flustered, and pretty much terrified. I sort of feel the same.

I gulp and feel the grin slide onto my face. “I wasn’t sure you’d show up.”

“I almost didn’t. I got up this morning, fully intending to cancel, but my flatmate was having none of it.” She laughs breathlessly at the admission. “I’m sorry I’m late. Traffic was a nightmare. My Uber driver said there was an accident on the M20 that was backing everything else up.” She flashes me an apologetic smile.

I wave a dismissive hand. “Don’t worry about it. You’re here now.”

Unreasonable excitement settles in my tummy. I’m genuinely looking forward to getting to know her more. I like her. She has a bit of sass, and I like humour in a girl; it’s sexy.

Reaching out, I take the handle of her suitcase from her and pull it to my side. It’s half a gentlemanly gesture, but also half a kind of guarantee that she won’t run away and change her mind if I’m holding her luggage hostage.

She smiles weakly and wrings her hands in front of her. “I still think this is insane, Theo,” she admits, wincing. “There’s still time to call off this ridiculous agreement. Have you come to your senses?”

She looks so apprehensive that it makes me feel a little uncomfortable too. I hate it when people feel awkward. I’m one of those people who likes to try and make everyone around me happy and at ease.

“I haven’t. Come on, let’s just do it. Live our best lives. What could possibly go wrong?” I joke.

“A lot of things actually.” She gulps, probably imagining all the things that could go wrong. Her eyes flick to the exit before coming back to my face.

I give her one of my most charming, disarming, reassuring smiles. It’s the smile I throw at skittish kids when I occasionally do my magic shows in hospices—yeah, I am that person. The one who pulls handkerchiefs from their hands and makes money appear from behind ears and a whole bunch of other stupid stuff in the hopes of making sick kids laugh like some dorky, rip-off Patch Adams.

“It’s gonna be great. Are you hungry or thirsty? Let’s check in and then get a coffee or something.” I raise one eyebrow and wait, letting her think it through.

I have everything crossed that she doesn’t change her mind. She’s here now, so surely, it’s too late to back out.

She sucks in a breath and then pulls back her shoulders and nods. “Screw it. At least I’ll have an eccentric story to tell my grandkids when I’m old. Nonna was wild once, kids; I got on a plane with a complete stranger …”

Grinning, I shoot her a wink. “It’ll make a great bedtime story. Provided I don’t kill you on this trip and sink your body to the bottom of the loch, of course.” As soon as I say it, I wish I hadn’t. That’s not really a good joke to make to an anxious woman who you’re trying to convince you’re not a serial killer.

But she obviously likes my humour because a chuckle escapes her lips and she rolls her eyes. Stepping closer to me, she loops her arm through mine and tugs me towards the waiting attendant. It breaks the ice a little more.

After checking in, we’re ushered through the body scanners, and Lucie is pulled for a random pat-down. I grin at her exasperated eye roll and watch, kind of jealous of the female security officer who gets to run her hands over Lucie’s thighs and under her breasts.

As she steps to my side and slides on her shoes, she leans in and frowns. “I always get the pat-downs. I must have one of those untrustworthy faces or something.”

“It’s the glasses. They give you a bad-girl edge.” I can’t help but chuckle at her disgruntled face.

We head towards Departures, and I nod in the direction of the food court. “Do you want anything to eat? They won’t serve food on the flight; it’s too short.”

Lucie groans and shakes her head, pressing a hand to her stomach. “No. I’m too nervous to eat.”

I smile sadly and step closer to her, trying to catch her eye as I touch her wrist with my fingertips. “What can I do to make