Hours later, I woke up again, being confused and a little disoriented and needing a moment to gather where I was. Or who, for that matter. Both were indications of how well I did sleep. But then again, this bed was just heavenly perfect.
"Welcome back from the dead, sleeping beauty," I heard a voice from the other side of the room and saw Carlos sitting in a chair, a tablet on his lap and a laptop on the small table next to him.
"How long was I out for?" I asked, fumbling for my phone on the nightstand.
"A good few hours and... you must have been really dead to the world. Your phone kept going off on and on and on. I switched it to silent eventually, assuming you probably need the sleep."
"Oh god, I figure they are all from my mother since I texted her a few moments before I called it a day again."
"She sounded less than happy from what I saw."
"You read them?" I asked, mortified.
"I might have caught a glimpse when turning your phone off. She ... um... she seems like quite a character."
"You have no idea," I mumbled, and heard an amused sound coming from him.
"She does understand that you didn't deliberately haven't made you way back home yet, right?"
"Maybe, but my mother has her own set of rules, and they don't always take logic into consideration."
"You could send her a photo," he suggested carefully a moment later, pointing towards the large windows that provided a view to the outside.
I used his suggestion to get up and out of bed and walked towards the windows a moment later. Seeing a thick, heavy coat of snow covering everything in sight and seeing the flakes dance wildly through the air, I figured the weather hadn't eased up. And it didn't look like it would anytime soon, either.
"Trust me, a photo wouldn't matter. I figure it is all over the news, anyway. Freakish weather always makes the news. So, it isn't like she hasn't seen footage of it by now," I replied, laughing a little ruefully.
"I know this is as much my business as everything else, but she sounds like mother of the year," I heard his sarcastic comment. A normal person would probably have started into excuses or be upset about a comment like that being made about their own mother, but… well, the relationship between me and my mother was tricky – to say the least.
"What do you think our chances are of making it out of here today?" I replied as my form of not-answering to his remark, because technically he was right. "Looking outside, I feel like this blizzard has only gotten worse these past few hours."
I saw him look up from his laptop outside the window and shrug a moment later. "It could ease up the next few hours and calm down. It also could just get even worse. Hard to tell. You have urgent business that needs you back on the east coast?"
"You seem awfully calm for someone who doesn't know how long he might be stuck in the middle of nowhere," I remarked, amused. "With a stranger, nevertheless."
"There's nothing I can actually do, seeing as I can't control the weather," he jokes, laughing a second later. "And I have travelled extensively for various reasons and managed to find myself in several blizzards, hurricanes, typhoons, monsoons and other weather extremes that I know the best thing is to sit them out. Nothing else to really do, anyway. In regard to company, I guess I could do a lot worse."
I was quiet for a moment, looking at my involuntary buddy. His attention was back with his laptop and whatever was on the screen. I saw him type, stop and type some more, giving me time to study him for a bit. Last night I had just managed to get a quick glimpse and blamed that mainly on my tiredness and the fact that my plans had been interrupted, as well as the annoying business with my mother. Now, I had a lot more time and definitely the state of mind to actually look at him – and appreciate what I was seeing.
He was still wearing what I figured was last night's get up, a dress shirt of which its sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, displaying well-corded and rather impressive looking arms. Could arms even look impressive?
His biceps strained the shirt to its seams and indicated he did spend time in the gym and took care of himself. Darkly washed jeans gave him a sort of business-casual look and were not of the skinny type that men everywhere seemed to take a liking to these days. His long legs were stretched out comfortably and made me wonder about his height. He was taller than me from what I could remember from last night, but not by a whole lot, maybe half a head at best?
His black hair appeared long and was restrained in a ponytail, working incredibly well for him. With most guys, I would have said a ponytail was a no-go, but not for him. What annoyed me a little was the fact that his hair looked a lot better than mine.
He was still typing when my eyes wandered over him once more in a hopefully rushed way, because the last thing I wished for was being caught checking him out. His latte-colored skin seemed almost like it glowed, which was an odd comparison, but it looked like that. And somehow it looked so soft. He was of Latino-origin, but wasn't being that stereotypical alpha-male, over-the-top guy who I had met plenty of times.
Taking the risk of sounding like a pre-puberty teen, Carlos seemed more like a dream than reality, representing the kind of guy you'd find in magazines and movies and which seemed unobtainable. While I was certainly not saying I knew him – because I didn't – I never had run into a guy like him before. Someone who was presenting everything: Put together, having his life seemingly in order and being the guy women could easily faint over. There was something about him that had you captivated and curious, while also interested and definitely hot for. He seemed like the real deal, the perfect package for everything you could look for in a guy but usually only found partially.
"Am I meeting your approval?" I heard him ask out of the blue suddenly, pulling me out of my thoughts. Maybe I wasn't as subtle as I had hoped, and wasn't that embarrassing?
"Sorry," I mumbled, almost apologetic, and saw him smile at me.
"What for?" he asked and surprised me. "It is probably just natural and by the way, how tired you seemed last night. A little curiosity this morning isn't really a bad thing."
I was amazed at how laid-back he seemed to be and how he didn't make this into a big deal or seemed to bask himself in the fact that I was in fact checking him out. He was an attractive guy, by all standards, and I figured he was aware of that. But instead of acting like many other guys that were attractive as well but weren't remotely close to playing in his league, he seemed relaxed and nowhere near arrogant, as I had experienced with others before.
"I assume your flight is scheduled for around the same time as mine, so… any idea what to do until then?" I asked, ignoring his reply, mainly because I wasn't sure what to say.
He looked at me for a long minute, seeming to think about my question before replying. "We could go and grab a bite to eat. Seeing as we had only coffee to-go this morning, I assume you might be as hungry as me."
Thinking about the last hours, I realized that the last time I ate was shortly before I boarded my connecting flight from California to Fargo, which seemed at this point like a lifetime ago. As if in agreement, my stomach rumbled with an appropriate response.
"I take that as a yes," he just laughed, pointing towards my stomach-region. A second later, he closed his laptop shut, got up and found his coat. "I remember there was a restaurant downstairs, so we wouldn't have to venture far. There was also a place next door, if you feel like getting some fresh air but not staying outside too long."
I thought about his suggestion for a moment. "We could see what they offer at the place downstairs. The weather doesn't look too inviting, and I am not sure I really would want to spend even a minute outside unless I really and absolutely must. Especially since I don't have a set of clothes for changing with me."
He nodded at my suggestion, and I set into motion to make myself look a little presentable. Since I didn't have any luggage on me and usually only traveled light, without a whole box of makeup stashed inside my handbag, I didn't have a whole lot of things I could use but figured I could work something out. The small overnight kit the hotel had provided us with last night held at least the basics, like a comb and such. So, I was able to tame my hair down into an elastic.
My handbag contained a small tube of tinted moisturizer and some colored lip balm. I wasn't vain or needed to wear a ton of makeup, but looking at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, something needed to be done. I looked like hell and like I hadn't slept for weeks, with dark circles under my eyes that I was certain wouldn't vanish with a tinted moisturizer, but I had nothing else.
About five minutes later we were out the door and after a short elevator ride inside the hotel-owned restaurant. It was a small space and currently we were the only patrons. But considering the clock didn't even strike noon yet, it wasn't unusual. And factoring in the weather, I assumed the only business they would see today would be from people at the hotel.
The lunch menu was only a few items, but broad enough to offer something for everyone. Prices were mid-range, which surprised me, seeing as nothing special was offered or seemed to draw in a more financially stable crowd. The tomato soup, which was advertised as an appetizer started at 10 bucks and seemed to be my best choice if I wanted to be a little more frugal.
Carlos didn't seem to blink just an eyelash when I placed my order and finished with a request for just water. He himself went for a salad, which surprised me, seeing as I had pecked him for the steak and ordered a bottle of wine.
The waiter came back five minutes later, bottle in hand, and they went ahead with what I so far had only seen in movies or tv shows. The waiter presented him the bottle, opened it, and poured a small amount into the glass. Then he waited for approval, which came promptly, and he went on filling the glass some more, before moving on to my glass and filling it appropriately as well. I wanted to protest, but somehow knew it would be pointless. So, for once in my life, I simply accepted something without so much as a word.
He seemed to have braced himself for another battle of the wills from the look of it and was surprised when no word ever left my lips. Taking a sip, I tasted a rich aroma and flavor and an indication that this bottle wasn't cheap. Like anything this guy surrounded himself with. I was a cheap drunk, to be honest, not caring too much for quality - mainly because I was at no level in my life where I could afford it. For me, a wine was a wine and all this talk about subtle nuances of pine nuts, or chocolate or berry-flavors usually made me wonder whether it was just a made-up pretense to sound sophisticated and set yourself apart from the rest.
What surprised me once more was how comfortable we were with each other and how comfortable everything felt. Throughout our entire lunch there was constant pleasant conversation about an array of topics and eventually one bottle turned into two and one hour of lunch became three. By the time we were finished, it was well into the afternoon and I couldn't remember the last time I enjoyed someone's company that much.
The bill arrived and while I was looking through my purse for my wallet, I noticed Carlos simply placing a card on the tray with the bill and signing the slip. The waiter quickly retrieved the tray and left.
"What do I owe you?" I asked, finally having found my wallet.
"It's on me," he just said, seeming amused about my offer. "And before you start a protest, I just claim it as a business lunch and get reimbursed."
There was literally no argument I could have made. While this certainly wasn't a business lunch, if one looked at the bill, my soup would hardly raise any questions since this could have been easily an appetizer for a single person before the main courses followed. The two bottles of wine, however, were a different story. But that wasn't my issue anymore, was it?
"Thank you," I said, getting up a moment later and hearing my phone receiving a notification. At the same time Carlos' phone chimed as well.
Looking at my screen, I saw the less than joyous news. The airline informed me once more of a rebooking, since tonight's flight was canceled as well.
"I somehow feel we will never leave this place," I commented, seeing Carlos look as happy as I was feeling. After my initial annoyance of yet another change in plans, I skimmed through the message a little more thoroughly and re-read one part a hundred times over. "I have been rescheduled four days from now. Four days?" I asked, reading the message once more just to make sure I really wasn't somehow imagining things.
"Several news outlets report that the airport is shut down for the remainder of the day as well as early tomorrow until the afternoons. Weather forecast suggests that it will only get worse before it gets better again."
"But... I have to work. My boss will have a field day with this and won't care if I'm stuck in the middle of Siberia due to weather issues."
"Maybe you can work out a deal?" I heard Carlos ask and needed to take a moment to recover from the laughter which was about to erupt.
"Um, no. My boss is very... peculiar, to say it in a nice way."
"Remote?" he asked further and somehow, I found it adorable how he tried to solve my problem for me. Though adorable would probably be the last attribute you'd use when describing the guy sitting opposite of me, taking one more sip of the remains of his wine.
"That would probably mean that the company I work for would need to arrive in the current century. So far, I am not even sure we crossed the threshold of the 20th century, to be honest. Some policies and technology are definitely rather...outdated."
"What is it that you actually do? If you don't mind me asking?"
"I ... officially? I'm a lingerie buyer for a giant no-name chain."
"And unofficially?" he asked, amused and surprised me once more. On the rare occasion that I was meeting men and told them about my job, a more or less insinuating remark was given, followed by leering and innuendo.
"I might as well run that place. I am somehow a personal assistant to the boss, partially an accountant since I am spending a lot of time going over the books and numbers and drawing up budget proposals how much each department is allowed to spend and where they need to cut down on spending. I also somehow ended up doing the scheduling and rosters after someone from the Personnel Planning department became sick for an extended amount of time and I sort of mentioned that I had somewhat experiences in that regard. That person never returned to work, and I actually think she might have died, and I just stayed on in that capacity. I don't even know how I got to do most of these additional tasks I do. I just remember that one day a friend from a different department asked me whether I could look at some spreadsheets with her and make sure her calculations were correct. Next thing I knew, my pile of responsibilities grew and yet, my salary remained the same. It's not that I mind though. Well, not much. Some recognition would be nice, but I guess we can't get everything all the time."
"Recognition should be the least they should give you. In hand with a raise. Why are you still working for them when they clearly don't know how to first appreciate you and second see what you do?"
"The economy isn't easy and shifting jobs is tough when you have obligations and payments to consider. There is always a chance of things not working out and you ending up without a job. Unfortunately, I'm not one of these financially stable people that could afford to be out of work for a few weeks and/or months."
"You do the job of six people. On top of your regular tasks. You don't get paid any extra or receive any sort of recognition for that. Trust me, you'll be able to find a new job and someone who actually appreciates your work-ethos easier than what you'd probably assume."
"Maybe I should make this my New Year's resolution then."
"Maybe you should," he just grinned, highlighting his gorgeous features.
"I assume you got rescheduled for some flight in the next few days as well? Any suggestion of what we should do until then?"
"I might have been a bit luckier since my new flight seems to leave three days from now. But it is the last flight out, so they might as well have put me on your flight since I won't win any time considering how long I'll need to get back to my place and then get up early the next morning for briefings and meetings."
"Hey, I'll take your flight in three days gladly over my flight in four days. Just saying. I don't even mind the short night."
"We could see if they can put us on a flight to Newark instead, or JFK. Maybe even LaGuardia. And if you are really desperate, we could even throw Boston into the mix."
"Yes, and with my luck this blizzard has moved exactly to Boston by the time we get there, and I'll be stuck once more, same same but different. This… this just sucks. I knew right from the start that I shouldn't have made it to that wedding. It isn't even like I would have been missed had I skipped it."
"So, no close friends of yours, then?"
"Hardly. College acquaintances. I am not even sure how they thought of inviting me as well. Or why I even agreed. It isn't like I had any obligations. Or like any of them had shown up for my wedding."
"You are married?" he asked, sounding surprised, and I noticed how his eyes drifted to my hands, looking probably for a ring.