“No, honestly! What do you do?”
I shouted over the noise of airline personnel and prospective passengers and travelers. The woman behind me jostled me a bit as she hastened to add her bags to the conveyor belt for the first inspection, but I barely noticed.
It was cool inside the terminal, but that was a faux comfort. Outside, the city of Barcelona was a sweltering 110. But right then, the only thing that felt hot were my cheeks as I struggled to keep up the conversation with the man I’d only met minutes before our separate flights were called.
“Go ahead, guess!” He shouted over his shoulder at me, causing the officer who was waving a metal detector across his body to frown.
I was on tiptoe, straining to see him over the throng and equipment.
“Professional flirt?” I called.
That stopped him for a moment and he looked at me with such a gaze that I figured I’d gone too far and bit my lip, embarrassed. His broad smile, however, dispelled all my fear instantly.
“Good guess. But I’m far too honest for that.”