Text Wars: May the Text be With You ... (An Accidentally in Love Story Book 3)

by Whitney Dineen

  After clearing his throat, Ben shifts away from me. “I wasn’t trying to be condescending.”

  “How long before we get there?” I ask.

  He points to the screen on the seat in front of him that shows the plane flying over a map. “We should start our descent at any time.”

  And then, like magic, the pilot comes over the intercom and says, “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Florida. The weather today is a balmy 89 degrees with a light wind. We’re about to start our descent into Orlando International Airport, so if you’ll please remain seated with your seatbelts fastened, we’ll be landing in about ten minutes.”

  “You had a nice nap,” Ben says while avoiding all eye contact. He seems kind of nervous, which is no surprise as I was practically molesting him.

  “I didn’t think I’d really fall asleep,” I tell him while shifting around to make sure my seat is up. “I’m sorry about, well, you know…” I indicate his lap area.

  “No problem.” He still won’t look at me.

  Awkward.

  The plane starts a righteous rattle on its way down and I notice that Ben is white knuckling it. “You okay?” I ask.

  “Yup.” He doesn’t elaborate.

  By the time we land, he looks like he just rode on Space Mountain standing up. “Ben,” I reach out and touch his arm which causes him to jump.

  “I’m not the world’s best flyer,” he confesses. “It’s why I never tried to become an astronaut myself.”

  “Good call,” I tell him. “You do realize that air travel is safer than driving in a car, though, right?”

  “Yeah, and most people don’t die when they parachute out of planes either, but I’m not standing in line to do that.”

  We sit still while the passengers clear out around us. I like knowing that Ben has fears. I don’t take pleasure in the fact that he’s afraid of something, but he seems somehow more human now that I know he’s vulnerable to something.

  As soon as we leave the plane, Ben starts to act like himself again. He stands straight and tall and seems to be all business. “I forgot to ask Waltraut if they were sending a car to pick us up,” I tell him.

  “I assume they will.”

  Pulling out my phone, I send Waltraut a quick text. Then I follow Ben as he power-walks through the airport. “Let’s head to baggage claim. That’s usually where the drivers are waiting with their signs.”

  I’m about to ask him to slow down when we get to the automatic walkway. Once it ends, he’s back to sprinting. I don’t treat walking like it’s an Olympic event, so I’m glad when we arrive at baggage claim. Looking around, we don’t see anyone holding signs with our names.

  “We can take a cab,” I tell Ben.

  Before he can answer, I hear someone call out, “Serafina! Over here!!”

  No, it can’t be …

  I turn around and see my grandmother coming at me as fast as her nearly eighty-year-old legs will carry her.

  “Abuela?” I ask in total shock. “What are you doing here?”

  Her eyes are sparkling like a kid on Christmas morning. “Your mamá told us when you were landing so Abuelo and I decided to pick you up.”

  “You live over two hundred miles from here,” I say. It’s not like I’m not totally thrilled to see her, but she’s the last person I expected.

  “Don’t I know it. Your abuelo almost got us killed four times. The man thinks he doesn’t have to signal or wait for an opening when he wants to switch lanes. It’s like he’s driving us to see Jesus himself.”

  Dear God. “I hope you’re not going home today,” I tell her.

  I see her eyeing Ben like he’s a popsicle and she’s been sunbathing on the equator. “Hello, Dr. Banana Pants,” she says with a wink. “I love watching you and my granddaughter on television.”

  “Um, hi there, Mrs. Lopez?” Ben says awkwardly. My abuela seriously looks like she’s about to throw all five feet of herself at Ben.

  “You can call me Maria,” she says, really rolling the ‘r’ in her name. Then she looks at me and adds, “Abuelo and I thought we’d stay with you while you are here.”

  “How nice! Were you able to get a room in the same hotel?”

  “Of course,” she brushes her palms across each other. “Because we’re staying in your room with you!”

  What?! I force a smile and manage, “I hope I have a room with two beds then.”

  “We can put Abuelo on a rollaway, if not.”

  My phone pings before I can say anything else. It’s a text from Waltraut.

  Waltraut: Hey, sorry, just got your message. Our intern totally messed up on our end. Looks like he didn’t order a car to pick you up and he couldn’t get two rooms at the hotel, so he booked you and Ben into a suite. There are two bedrooms and two baths though, so that shouldn’t be a problem, right?

  Oh. My. God. While that would probably be okay if it was just the two of us, I have no idea how it’s going to work with my grandparents staying with us. How in the world am I going to break this to Ben?

  Twenty-Four

  Ben

  If I thought space travel sounded daunting, it’s got nothing on being in the backseat while Lorenzo Lopez is at the wheel. He swerves wildly and weaves in and out of traffic as though he’s Luke Skywalker fighting the Death Star. By the time we get off the freeway, I’m horribly nauseated and my muscles are contracted so tightly, I’m pretty sure I’m moments away from having a seizure of some kind.

  I cannot wait to get to my room to lie down for a while so my body can recalibrate back to my normal not about to die setting. Serafina, who is sitting next to me, seems to find the whole thing utterly amusing. She didn’t even freak out when her abuelo almost side-swiped a semi. She did, however, laugh until tears were sliding down her cheeks because I screamed (in a pitch so high, I had no idea I could reach it), followed by yelling, “We’re all going to die!”

  Before that little moment, I was actually feeling a bit sorry for Serafina. Having to share a hotel room with your grandparents sounds like a horror. Not that I didn’t love my Grammy and Poppy, because I definitely did. They were wonderful, and if they were still alive, I’d happily share everything I have with them. But still, in my humble opinion, hotel rooms are barely big enough for one.

  Maria has been peppering me with questions since we pulled away from the terminal.

  “Do you have a girlfriend?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’m very busy.”

  “With what?”

  “My job.”

  “You silly young people, worrying about your careers so much. This one is the same way,” she says, pointing to Serafina. “I always tell her, ‘Sera, your job won’t keep you warm at night or feed you soup when you’re sick.’”

  Serafina nods as if to mean yup, she tells me that ALL the time.

  I smile at Maria, who is basically sitting backwards in her seat while her husband accelerates to stop a motorcycle from cutting into our lane. “But if you make enough money, you can afford to adequately heat your home and you can order in soup.”

  Maria gives me a placating look. She’s not buying it.

  “Have you ever been married?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Same answer as before. I’m busy.”

  More head shaking. “How many siblings do you have?”

  “None.”

  “Why didn’t your parents give you any brothers and sisters?”

  “My dad ran out on us and my mom had nothing but bad luck with men after that.”

  “What kind of father runs out on his son?” Maria gasps.

  “A bad one.”

  Serafina interrupts, “Abuela, maybe that’s enough questions for now, okay?”

  “Why? This is how I get to know people.”

  “Not everyone feels comfortable sharing details about their personal lives,” she says. “Oh, there’s our hotel!”

  Lorenzo slams on th
e brakes, not caring one iota that there are dozens of cars behind us.

  “Right there,” Maria tells him, reaching across his face to point.

  He guns it and makes a left into oncoming traffic. I close my eyes and wince, waiting for the impact of the UPS truck that’s about to end my life. But then, I feel Serafina patting me on the hand. “It’s okay. We made it.”

  I open one eye just in time to see Lorenzo pull the car into a stall, then he hits the brakes, causing Serafina and me to nearly faceplant into the seat backs. Although tiny and seemingly frail, Maria must have abs of steel because she didn’t budge.

  Once we’re out of the car, I forego kissing the pavement because that would not only be disgusting, but pretty embarrassing. I do thank my lucky stars that I’ve thus far survived today and promise myself I’ll never get into a vehicle with that man again. Ever. After pulling the suitcases out of the trunk, I smile at Serafina’s grandparents. “Thank you so much for the ride. It was lovely meeting you both.”

  “You’re welcome,” Lorenzo says.

  I smile down at Serafina, and continue, “Let’s text each other later to set up a time to leave for Kennedy. Have a wonderful night getting caught up.”

  Nuts. I forgot they have to check in, too. As they all trail behind me to the entrance, I realize I shouldn’t have made such a deal about saying goodbye to them in the parking lot.

  Serafina tells her grandparents to go have a seat on one of the palm tree print couches while she checks them in. Then she hurries to stand next to me in line.

  “I hope you’re not a line cutter,” I tease. “Because I got here first.”

  “Ha! Hardly,” she tells me. “So, here’s the thing…”

  She pauses long enough for me to get a little nervous which is not what I need after the day I’ve had. Instead of saying anything, she hands me her phone, then waits while I read. “No … nononononononono. This is completely unacceptable. I don’t have roommates. Ever. No. Not happening.”

  I hand her back her phone and see she’s wearing an apologetic expression. “I had no idea they were coming.”

  “I gathered that.” I rub the bridge of my nose under my glasses. “No matter. I’ll just sort it out at the desk. There’s no way the hotel is sold out. And even if they are, I’m sure I can find a room somewhere.”

  “Right,” Serafina says. “That would be great, actually, because then I can have my own bedroom and bathroom and so can my grandparents.”

  “Next,” the woman behind the desk barks. She’s got the darkest tan I’ve ever seen which is quite shocking against her bleached hair.

  I have to force myself not to look surprised as I step up. I smile and glance down at her name tag. “Hello, Bonnie. I’m Ben Williams and this is Serafina Lopez. We’re work colleagues, sort of, and I’m afraid there’s been a mix-up. We’ve been put into the same suite.”

  “I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do about that. We’re completely booked through the week.”

  I pause and blink a couple of times, then smile. “No problem. Can you find me a room at a hotel nearby?”

  Shaking her head, Bonnie says, “There’s a huge cosmetic surgery convention happening through Friday. They’ve booked every room in the city.” Glancing at Serafina, she lowers her voice, “I gave one of the docs a free upgrade. In exchange, he’s gonna pump my face so full of fillers, I won’t be able to move it for months.” She sounds positively giddy.

  I stare at her in disbelief, trying to figure out what the hell to do now. I decide to turn on the charm, not that I’m all that practiced in such a maneuver. Leaning one elbow on the counter, I smile. “Bonnie, I know you have to tell most people there’s no room at the inn, but between you and me, there’s got to be something.” I pull a twenty out of my pocket and slide it across the counter. “How about if you just check again?”

  “Are you trying to bribe me?” Bonnie asks.

  “Not at all,” I tell her. “I found that on the floor.”

  Bonnie grabs the money and puts it in her bra before saying, “It’s like I told you before — we don’t have any rooms. Do you want the one you’re already booked into or not? Because if not, I bet I could barter the one you had for a nice mole removal. I’ve got something growing on my shoulder that does not look healthy.”

  She’s actually taking the money and saying no? I thought New Yorkers were tough.

  Sera takes over with, “We definitely need the suite we have.”

  Turning around, I see Maria and Lorenzo grinning at us. They wave excitedly at me and I offer them a weak smile in return. So to recount what’s happening, I’m about to go to one of the most important conferences of my life with an astrologer and now will be bunking with her and her grandparents for two nights. At least it can’t get any worse. Right?

  Twenty-Five

  Serafina

  “A suite!” Abuela gushes as we walk into our airy ocean-view room on the third floor. “How exciting!”

  Scooting her out of the way, my grandfather hurries past in the direction of the bedrooms mumbling, “I shouldn’t have had that pizza at lunch.”

  “Told you.” Abuela starts to follow him. “We’ll take this room and you kids can have the other one.” She opens her mouth and gives us an exaggerated wink, before adding, “It’s a good thing Renzo and I are hard of hearing, huh?”

  Oh no, she didn’t. “Abuela, Ben and I are work colleagues. We aren’t a couple.”

  “No time like the present.” She winks again. This is so embarrassing.

  “I think we should call down to the front desk for that rollaway. That way you can sleep with me and Abuelo can sleep on a rollaway.” I hurry to pick up the phone and punch in zero for the operator. After chatting with Bonnie again, I discover that all the cots have already been claimed. “No beds,” I tell Abuelo and Ben who are both staring at me expectantly as I hang up the phone.

  Abuela waves her hand in front of her face. “We don’t need one. Renzo can sleep with Ben and I’ll sleep with you.”

  Ben bolts toward the love seat and lifts the cushions. Why didn’t I think of that? I bet it’s a sleeper. The look of disappointment on his face disabuses me of that notion.

  “How about if Abuelo sleeps on the loveseat?” I ask, already knowing the answer is going to be a no. He’s short, but he’s also in his eighties so…

  My grandmother shakes her head like she’s trying to dislodge an earwig. “His back would go out. The man needs a bed.” I should take one for the team and say that I’ll take the love seat, but there’s no way I’d ever sleep. I’m a sprawler as my little nap on the airplane so clearly indicated. I’d fall off in no time.

  Ben finally grumbles, “He can sleep with me.” Then he takes off for the room my grandfather walked into. I hear him exclaim, “Urgh! What’s that smell?”

  Abuela looks sheepish when she tells me, “Abuelo has been suffering from some digestive issues. We’re pretty sure he’s lactose intolerant, but he loves his dairy so much he refuses to go to the doctor and have my diagnosis confirmed.”

  Ben immediately comes out of his room and stares at me with a murderous glare. I shoot him an apologetic expression then tell my grandmother to go into our room and get settled.

  She looks between the two of us and makes a tsking sound. “If the two of you would just accept that you want to do the horizontal cha cha, there wouldn’t be a problem.”

  “Abuela!” I practically shout at her.

  “What? The whole world sees how the two of you go at it on television. Passion like that would burn up the sheets.” She walks into the other bedroom leaving me and Ben to deal with the fallout of such a statement.

  “I’m so sorry,” I tell Ben. “I’ll make it up to you, somehow.”

  “How do you suggest doing that?” I can’t tell if his tone is flirtatious or angry. Maybe both?

  “Well, I’d normally offer to give you a free natal chart, but I don’t think that would be your thing.”

  “No
, it wouldn’t.” That’s all he says but he’s glaring at me so intensely I take an involuntary step backwards.

  “I’ll pay for all your meals while we’re here,” I suggest.

  “We have a per diem for that.”

  “Okay, fine,” I concede. “I’ll owe you one. Whatever you want, you have a chit to call in at any time.”

  He glances up at the ceiling as though considering it, then looks back at me with a half-smile that makes me nervous. “As long as that ticket comes with no restrictions…”

  I don’t know whether to be scared or excited by the expression on his face. Scared, right? Like he’ll probably say I have to renounce my beliefs on live TV. I should say no. But I am about to make the man sleep with my intestinally-challenged grandfather for the next couple of nights.

  I nod my head. “Fine. What do you say we unpack and then go downstairs for supper? It must be six o’clock and I’m getting hungry.”

  Ben turns and walks away from me, which I take to mean that we have a bargain. I hurry after my grandmother with thoughts of begging her to please quit being so salacious with her suggestions, but when I open the door to our bedroom, I discover her sound asleep on the bed.

  After splashing some cold water on my face, I go back out to the living room to wait for Ben, but he’s already sitting on one of the armchairs. “That was fast,” I tell him.

  He looks up at me with a haunted if not horrified expression. “Your grandfather is taking a nap and he’s practically naked.”

  “What?” Dear God.

  “He has his underwear on, but that’s all. Also, the room is so odiferous, I’m pretty sure the oxygen level is depleted beyond safe levels.”

  “I’m going to give my parents an earful about this,” I tell him. Then, hoping to find the silver lining, I add, “At least they didn’t come, too.”

  The look of terror on Ben’s face has me laughing out loud. “Perish the thought!”

  “Are you close with your grandparents?” I ask.