Page 11 of Miss Understanding

He chuckled. “Yep. That’s why I have my heavy parka and gloves.”

Shit. I didn’t own such things. “It’s warmer in Virginia, though, right?”

“Oh, I’m sure it is.”

I relaxed until his next words.

“Probably at least double digits. Although it is January, so the nights get colder.”

Crap. I’d only brought the sweater I was wearing on the plane and packed a fleecy type light jacket, but I didn’t own anything warmer. Between class and making last-minute travel plans, I hadn’t focused on the fact it was going to be cold. In my defense, late January near the beach meant chilly mornings in the forties, warming up to the sixties most days.

“But no snow?”

He shrugged. “Never know this time of year. You heading into the mountains or near DC?”

“Mountains I think.” I really wished I’d done more research on the town.

“Then, I hope you have some snow boots.”

I doubted my secondhand three-inch-heel soft leather booties were what he meant.

* * *

The chill of the air was evident the moment I deboarded the plane and walked along the sky ramp in Chicago. Holy crap. It almost took my breath, it was so dry and cold. I was in serious trouble. I’d have to figure out something when it came to getting warmer clothes, but for now I only had a short layover with barely enough time to get to the next flight.

I was surprised to see my boss waiting for me outside of the gate with my suitcase in hand.

“Have a good rest of your trip,” my row mate said, touching my arm and giving me a smile as he walked past. He was cute in a backpacking-across-Europe-without-a-care-or-a-shower type of way.

“Thanks. You, too.”

Liam was frowning. “We need to hurry. Our gate is some distance from here.” He acted as if I was at the back of the plane just to irritate him.

I took my rolling carry-on from his hand and noticed he didn’t argue this time.

He seemed to know his way around O’Hare, only pausing a moment in front of the monitor screen, reading it quickly, before striding away.

I had trouble keeping up even in my flats. I’d have to add an entry to my notepad document.

Him tripping over his own feet and sprawling in the middle of the terminal floor. Yep. I wouldn’t mind that scenario at all. But with my luck, he’d probably fall gracefully or get hurt and make me feel horrible.

We didn’t stop until we were at the gate. Thankfully, they weren’t boarding yet which gave me a few minutes. “I’ll be back.”

“Where are you going?”

“The ladies’ room, and then to grab something to eat.”

“They didn’t feed you on the plane?”

“No, not in coach. I’ll be back.” I turned to go only to have him stop me with his words.

“While you’re in the ladies’ room, please remove your personal items from your suitcase.”

“What?” I pivoted around so I could face him.

“Your clothes. Especially your, you know, underthings. They’re on top of my folders.”

Underthings? The term reminded me of something someone would say in Little House on the Prairie. I deadpanned him with a look that said you can’t be serious. “Yes. They’re on top of your folders in my suitcase. I have nowhere else to put my stuff even if I wanted to.”