Stumble into Love Read online

  Laila's cheeks burned. "Of course it is. Hal did what I hired him to do, and now he's on his way back to Pennsylvania. I'll send the check to the agency next week and that's the end of it."

  "That's not the end," Bubbe said firmly with a wag of her finger. "You're too crazy about that man, Laila Alster."

  "Hal's a nice guy," Laila said stiffly, not wanting the conversation to go any further. "But there's nothing between us--"

  "And he's bonkers about you, doll," Bubbe cut in. "It was all over his face. I never saw a man more enthralled with a gal than him over you."

  "You're wrong," Laila said, feeling the tears threaten her again.

  "No?" Bubbe asked. "How can you be so sure?"

  Because of the way I treated him, Laila thought. Because she'd used him and hurt him, and even if there had been some feelings between them, they'd certainly been destroyed now. Hal had done his job, and that was all.

  "I'm sure," Laila whispered.

  "You wait and see," Bubbe said with a pat to Laila's hand. "You give him a second chance."

  Laila wished she could believe her grandmother. Then she remembered the look on Hal's face just before he'd walked away. There would be no second chances. And why should there be? After the way she'd treated him, she didn't deserve any.

  Hal didn't feel like fighting the sweet, old lady with the knitting bag for the window seat. Despite her kindly smile, she looked as though she could be nasty with her needles. Hal slid into the aisle seat with a resigned sigh, though the window seat had been his first choice.

  "Rule number one," the old lady advised him as he sat. "Never go to the bathroom on a bus."

  Hal looked at her. "What's rule number two?"

  She shook her needles at him. "Don't eat at the taco stand when we make the rest stop. Otherwise you'll have to break rule number one. Frequently."

  She chuckled loudly at her own joke, slapping her leg with the hand not holding the lethal looking needles. "Oh, I crack myself up."

  Hal didn't feel like smiling. He just nodded and stretched his legs as much as he could, easing the seat back from its uncomfortable position to one only marginally more restful. He thought he might sleep. Night had fallen and the bus was dark.

  Until, that was, the old lady who'd stolen his seat turned on her light. "Musta dropped a stitch," she muttered, fingering the pile of pink yarn in her lap. "Dang. Why's that always happen?"

  She shoved the straggly mess toward Hal. "Here. Can you see if there's a hole in there anywhere?"

  Hal squinted half-heartedly at the mess and shook his head. "No. Sorry."

  "Huh." His seatmate grunted. "Dang."

  She turned off the light. Hal closed his eyes and tried to sleep. His mind whirled with thoughts of Laila.

  The lady turned on the light again. "Sonny, c'mon. Help an old lady out. If I don't get this stitched up right my Poochie's gonna be wearing a sweater with only three legs."

  Gritting his teeth, Hal snatched the sorry looking pile of pink yarn and squeezed it. "There. Is that what you're looking for?"

  "That's it, all right." The old lady nodded vigorously and began unraveling her creation. "Perfect."

  Hal leaned back again. The clack-clacking of the needles next to him was soothing. Despite the annoying overhead light, he began to drift.

  "What's her name anyway?" his seatmate asked abruptly.

  Hal's eyes flew open and he sat up. The old lady kept clacking contentedly. "What?"

  "The name of the lady who done made your face turn so sour." She peeked over at him with a wry grin on her wrinkled face. "There is one, ain't there? A lady?"

  "I'm trying to sleep," Hal said unkindly.

  "Sure, sure," said the old lady without offense. "Just thought you might like to talk about it, that's all."

  Hal settled further into his uncomfortable seat. Another four hours on this bus seemed unbearable. Maybe he'd get lucky and they'd hit some sort of freaky time warp or something.

  Time Warp. Laila. He thought of her singing that ridiculous song, and he groaned.

  "C'mon, sonny," prompted the old lady. "Tell me all about her. She's pretty, I'll bet."

  "Yes," Hal said reluctantly. "Very pretty."

  "But you walked away from her." The clacking paused, and she reached down to the bag between her feet and pulled out a skein of orange yarn. Her needles flashed as she started knitting again.

  "It was what she wanted," Hal said.

  "But not what you wanted?" She looked at him shrewdly. "You couldn't change her mind?"

  "It's not that simple," Hal said. He thought of trying to explain the situation and found he couldn't.

  "Ain't much in this world that is, sonny." The lady chuckled again, knitting furiously. "Ain't much that is."

  Hal finally fell to sleep with the sound of her needles clacking in his mind. He didn't dream, or if he did, they were bland and forgettable. When he woke, it was in the Harrisburg station.

  "Don't look so down, sonny," his seatmate advised him as he helped her off the bus. "Thing's always work out for the best."

  The best would be if Laila had told him what he wanted to hear. Since I don't have that, Hal thought, I'll just have to hope something else comes along.

  The morning sun was just beginning to break when he finally got home. The cab driver offered to help him wrangle the overstuffed suitcase up the stairs to his apartment building, but Hal didn't have enough money to tip the guy any more. He said he'd do it himself.

  "Take care, buddy," the driver said with a tip of his hat. "Get some sleep. You look like you need it."

  As much he might seek to avoid thinking of Laila in the solace of sleep, he wasn't tired. He set about unpacking his case by tossing the entire contents onto his bed. Of everything he'd packed, he'd used only a few things.

  "So much for being prepared," he said to the empty room.

  His voice practically echoed, and for the first time, Hal took the time to really look around. He'd lived in this apartment for a year now. The walls were still bare and dingy white, without so much as a cheap, framed print to brighten them. The furniture, what little he had, was a jumbled mix of Salvation Army bargains and expensive items he'd managed to salvage from his divorce. His bed was nothing more than a bare mattress and box spring laid on the floor, his linens mismatched and ugly.

  Hal sat on his pitiful excuse for a bed and rested his head in his hands. He didn't miss the fancy house, the car, the luxury vacations. Truthfully, he didn't even miss Cassie. But living like this was just damn depressing.

  His gaze fell on the dented metal filing cabinet he was using as a nightstand. He had paperwork to fill out for LoveMatch. He pulled out the forms and began checking off the necessary boxes. When he got to the section titled "extraordinary circumstances," he stopped. Falling in love could be considered extraordinary. His pen hovered above the stark lines, so black against the unforgiving whiteness of the paper. Then he wrote "none."

  Chapter 10

  "I'm sorry, dear." Muriel Whitehead's nasal voice sounded sympathetic. "But Hal left LoveMatch three weeks ago."

  Three weeks ago. That meant he'd quit immediately after returning from Bramblewood. Laila felt incredibly stupid for even having called. "Oh, I didn't know. Can you give me his home phone number?"

  A long silence met her request, and Laila knew the answer was going to be no. Ms. Whitehead sighed heavily into the phone. "It's against LoveMatch policy. It's to protect our escorts."

  "I understand," Laila said. "So giving me his address is out, too."

  "I'm sorry, honey. We sign confidentiality agreements for all our escorts." Ms. Whitehead really did sound sorry, but that wasn't going to help Laila find Hal. She could practically hear the woman squirming though the phone.

  "Okay. Thanks anyway." For nothing, Laila thought.

  "No problem, honey. And if you ever need another escort--"

  "Thanks, but I don't think I will." Laila disconnected the call and sat back in her chair.