Hurriedly I said, "I forgot! I'm sorry!"
He glanced back to me and surprisingly he didn't seem overly angry. He seemed to come to some consensus of thought by issuing forth a one word statement, "Women!"
In umbrage I sat up, "What's that supposed to mean?"
He snorted derisively and turned away to my bag which he drug closer to him. He started to open it and I quickly came half off my seat as I reached for my carry-on bag.
It was the only luggage I'd had, as I had thought it best to pack light, but reversely I'd packed the small bag to the point that the seams were about to bust. I didn't want him rummaging through my stuff. Everything was where it was for a purpose.
His hand smacked my outreaching fingers away.
"But……"
He held one decisive finger up cutting my protest off. I swallowed my words at the look in his hard gray eyes. He spoke, "I have already carried far more weight than needed and you're going to be doing well just to manage yourself. We have a lot of distance to cover and we don't need excess baggage to cart along!"
I wanted to protest, but my words remained unsaid.
He glanced back to the bag and opened it and promptly all of its contents spewed out. I couldn't take it and looked away from the scene. I felt completely violated by his handling of my stuff.
"You have good taste." He said in a thoughtful tone.
I glanced back to see him picking his way through my bag's contents and unable to resist I said, "You don't strike me as a man that's overly fashion conscious."
He glanced up and flatly said, "I'm not, but I can appreciate a well-dressed woman."
I swallowed and nodded, as I retreated into silence. He liked my style. Enough said.
He was busy making two piles. One small the other large. I got the distinct impression that the large pile was staying behind. I had to fight to hold back my objections more than once as more and more was added to the larger pile.
He held up a bra in apparent contemplation over something. He picked up the other bra that the pack contained and looking between the two began to look slightly strained. He glanced at me then, but not at my face but rather down to where the articles of clothing he held were meant to be applied. This was so humiliating!
Subconsciously I crossed my arms across my chest as I met his considering gaze with my best look of affront. It didn't faze him in the slightest. Instead he winked at me and tossed both bras on the small pile.