Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
The Atlanta airport was a stark contrast to the one she’d left twenty-four hours earlier on the sunny Gold Coast. It was like a small city. Crowds jostled her onto a lightning-fast train that carried her to baggage claim. And once she’d collected her luggage, she lumbered outside into frigid weather and sleeting rain.
With a gasp, she set down her bags and foraged for a coat. She didn’t have a waterproof one, but it was reasonably warm. Her raincoat was somewhere in the bottom of her suitcase, and she couldn’t find it without upending the entire thing over the dirty footpath. Or sidewalk. She should probably get used to saying things the American way while she was here. She’d already struggled to communicate with waitresses, customs officers, and the man at the check-in counter in Los Angeles. No one seemed to be able to comprehend her accent. She’d have to work on that, or it would be a frustrating visit.
A man in a thin jumper and long, soiled pants approached her. His short hair curled tight against his dark skin. “Can I help with your bags?”
“Oh yes, thanks. That’s very kind of you. I’m looking for a taxi.”
He stared at her a moment with brow furrowed, then walked off, tugging her suitcase behind him. She watched in alarm before hurrying after him shouting. “Excuse me, where are you going with my suitcase?”
“You want a cab?” He called back over his shoulder.
“Yes, a cab. Thanks.”
“That’s some accent you’ve got.”
She smiled. “I’m Australian.”
“No kidding? Put another shrimp on the barbie! ” he said with glee.
She frowned. “Huh?” Frozen rain fell on her head.
“Crocodile Dundee,” he added as she ran to keep up with him. He glanced at her and waggled his eyebrows. “Right?”
“Oh yeah, right. Crocodile Dundee. He was great.”
“I love that guy.”
“Here you go. You can catch a cab here anywhere you like. That’s twenty bucks.”
“Twenty…?” She blinked. “I thought you were being kind … never mind. Sure. Okay.” She fished in her wallet for the money and handed it to him.
He shoved it in his pocket. “Enjoy Atlanta.”
She nodded. “Thanks.” So much for the kindness of strangers. She’d have to be more careful in the future, or she’d use up all her US currency in a week. She could’ve managed those few metres on her own.
The walk to the cab rank had passed through a patch of freezing rain and now her woollen jumper was soaked through. She stood in line behind dozens of other passengers, her hair plastered to her face. Her lips soon lost feeling. She shivered, her teeth knocking together. The longer she stood still in line, the colder she grew.
The internet had lied to her about Hotlanta . The sun was hidden beyond a set of dark and brooding clouds. While she waited the frozen rain stopped falling, but the cold only intensified as darkness descended. And she became more and more miserable with every passing moment. Her stomach growled, and she felt sick from the travel. She hadn’t slept more than a few minutes on the plane. She’d spent an entire day with no shower, eating airplane food and enjoying only a couple of brief, interrupted naps with her head tilted at a weird angle, leaving her neck with a stabbing pain every time she moved.
Finally, it was her turn for a taxi. She climbed in and gave the address for the bed and breakfast she’d booked. It was in Covington, which was the same town where Tyler Osbourne apparently lived. Although she wondered how up-to-date the information online was. Even thinking about him made her stomach jangle with nerves. What if she couldn’t find him? Or if she did, what if he was a criminal or an axe murderer? That was probably the worst-case scenario. But she had a tendency to catastrophise when she was tired or anxious. And right now, she was both.
They’d been driving for almost two hours. It was dark. There hadn’t been any more rain, for which Matilda was grateful. Although she was alarmed at the speed her driver managed on the highway, when the traffic allowed for it. Surely, the tarmac must be slick in this weather? Which probably explained why they were sitting in stop and go traffic and had been since they left the airport. The highway was massive with what seemed like at least a dozen lanes, and yet every single outgoing lane was at a standstill with no sign of improvement.
She leaned forward. “Are we almost there?”
She’d been watching the timer click over with her fare and this cab ride was going to cost her a fortune.
The driver had an accent and according to a badge on the visor, his name was Aarav. He gave a quick nod. “Not far now. You’ve come a long way?”
“Yes, from Australia.”
He whistled. “That is far. I’m from India; we love to beat Australia in the cricket.”
She chuckled. “You wish you could.”
He grinned at her in the rearview mirror.
She was desperate to go to the toilet and her stomach growled with hunger. If she didn’t stop before they reached the bed and breakfast, she wouldn’t be able to eat a thing until the next morning. “Do you think we could stop at this shop up ahead, Aarav? I’m really hungry, and I don’t have anything else with me.”
“You want to stop?” He peered in the rearview mirror at her.
“Yes, please. Up here?” She pointed.
“Okay. Sure. We can take back roads the rest of the way. It will be better, no?” Then pulled into the petrol station, or gas station as the Americans called it. She’d have to start using the right vernacular. Already she could tell that people struggled to understand her accent and language. She was surprised by it. She didn’t find it very difficult to understand them, but perhaps they hadn’t heard many Australian accents while she’d watched American movies and television shows her entire life.
The ground was wet and slick when she climbed out. Her feet slipped out from under her, and she scrambled in place, able to keep her balance, but only just. Steadying herself with one hand on the car door, she breathed a sigh of relief and headed for the shop.
Inside, the tile floor was marked with muddy boot prints. She tip-toed around them and headed for the snack stands. After piling her arms full of snacks and drinks, most which she didn’t recognise, she went to pay. There was a line, so she waited her turn. She’d always wanted to try a Twinkie, so she peeled one open and took a bite. It was delicious and she closed her eyes to better savour it as she chewed. Behind her, a man cleared his throat.
She opened her eyes to look at him, and he nodded at the counter. It was open. He was tall and handsome but watched her with narrowed eyes. He seemed irritated. She’d only delayed him by a few moments. Why were people so impatient? She offered him a tight smile and stepped forward to pay.
The cashier handed her snacks and drinks back to her in a small, plastic bag. Then she turned to leave, but her foot caught on the edge of a floor rug. She stumbled and righted herself just as she reached the slippery, wet tiles. With arms out and eyes wide, she felt her feet leave the floor and she went flailing backwards. One hand caught something as she fell, and she realised in horror it was the man who’d been impatiently waiting behind her. His coffee went flying, spraying across the front of his shirt before plummeting to the floor beside her and spilling across the tiles.
When she landed on her rear end, pain shot through her body. She grimaced and quickly scrambled to her feet. The man tried to help her, but she was too mortified to let him.
“Someone’s had a few too many,” said a deep voice behind her.
Her throat tightened. She was too tired for this. Too hungry. Too alone. “Well, I’m sorry,” she snapped. “The floor is slippery.”
The man’s blue jacket was flecked with coffee. She handed him a napkin from her bag of snacks. “Here, this might help.”
He grunted as he wiped at the flecks of coffee on his coat. “You in a hurry or somethin’?”
Her eyes narrowed, and she felt the sting of tears ache in her throat. “I am now.” She stormed out of the shop, and back to the car, steaming mad, embarrassed and hurt. After climbing into the car, she slammed the door shut. “Let’s go, Aarav.”
He started the car in silence.
She couldn’t believe what had just happened. The slip and fall wasn’t the worst part of it. It was the way the man had treated her, as if he didn’t care whether she was okay or not. His intense green eyes had sparkled in a way that made it seem as though he found some kind of perverse pleasure in her accident. What kind of person did that? Sure, he’d helped her to her feet, but he hadn’t asked if she was okay. Perhaps he was angry about the coffee stains, although it didn’t look as though he’d been burned, for which she was grateful. Things could’ve been so much worse. As it was, all she’d really suffered was some humiliation and a bruised derrière.
The Twinkie was ruined, no doubt smushed into the floor of the shop. But she dug through the bag for another treat and opened a Mountain Dew to wash it down with.
Fifteen minutes later, they pulled into the parking lot beside the bed and breakfast. Aarav helped her inside with her luggage and then left her to check in. It was a late check-in, so there was no one at the desk, only an envelope with her name waiting for her. The key was inside.
She lugged her things to room number three and unlocked the door. Once inside, she stripped out of her wet things and took a long, hot shower, before falling into bed with her bag of snacks. The journey hadn’t started on the best terms, but things had to improve. Surely, the only way from here was up.