The Boyfriend Series Box Set (Books 1-6): YA Contemporary Romance Novels
Page 107
“Me too,” Sam replied. “And I’m sorry I was short with you on the plane. I just want to see you happy.”
“That makes two of us.”
Sam laughed and just like that everything felt right with them again. Megan loved that their friendship was so easy. She knew Sam was stressed with school and that coming back to Ireland had never been easy for her. It held a lot of heartache for her. It’s where she lost her mother to cancer as a child and where Devon lost his father to the same illness just three years ago. And it was where Sam and Devon almost lost each other.
Megan was grateful that Sam had even agreed to come back for the study abroad program.
Sam had been instrumental in setting it up with Cor-Tec. She’d even asked her father to set up a film grant so Megan could be hired to work on their corporate film campaign. It was a great opportunity and Megan was thankful for it.
She hadn’t grown up with a lot of money like Sam or Devon. For a while it was just Megan and her mom, and they worked for everything they had. But Megan appreciated the way she was raised. It taught her the value of hard work and to appreciate everything. It’s why she treated the little things like big things, because to Megan, they were. She knew tomorrow and happiness were not guaranteed in life, and she wanted to make the most of every moment.
“Come on,” Megan said pulling Sam by the hand. “Let’s get this adventure started.”
Zander
Zander let Devon drive his precious Defender to Finnegan’s after he whined like the prissy bloke he was. America and love were making Devon soft, in Zander’s opinion. But truthfully, Zander didn’t mind. He just liked giving Devon a hard time. He’d missed his best mate.
Devon had only been back to visit once since he decided to follow Sam to Boston.
And Zander didn’t blame him. Sam was a fine lass. Hell, Zander had even tried to pursue her when they’d first met. But in the end, he knew the better bloke had won. Sam and Devon were suited for each other. But sometimes Zander still couldn’t help feeling bitter. Devon and Sam had been his friends, but they were also two more people he cared about who left him behind.
But as Zander slid into the back seat with Megan, his resentment melted away. She wiggled her curvy hips right up against him as she settled next to him so she could gaze out his window. His ego was thrilled that she was blatantly taken with him. The girl wasn’t shy. She took every opportunity to touch him.
Megan’s hand rested on Zander’s thigh as she pointed out the window. He lapped it up, putting his own arm around her waist and pulling her closer as he narrated the scenery they passed, making up outlandish stories just to hear Megan giggle.
“And that there’s where Dev and I got caught streaking in old Patty Malone’s field.”
“Quit filling her head with lies,” Devon called back.
Zander winked. “Guess he doesn’t want Sam knowing all his dirty secrets, eh?”
Megan snorted. “He doesn’t know the half of hers.”
“Hey!” Sam yelled.
“What’s that?” Megan asked pointing to the stone castle that jutted up in the middle of town.
Zander rolled the window down to give her a closer look, letting the salty tang of sea air blow into the car and rustle Megan’s glossy black hair. “That old relic is the Dalkey Castle.”
“Really?”
“Of course. Dalkey was a medieval port. Dates back to 700 AD.”
“That’s incredible,” Megan whispered.
Zander smirked as he watched her stare at the stone building like it possessed magic powers. “No castles in Boston, then?”
“Not unless you count Fenway Park.”
“And I do!” Sam yelled with pride.
Megan rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out at the back of her friend’s head, making Zander wish they were alone in the car. He had a sudden desire to kiss the raven-haired beauty sitting next to him. He was already having a hard enough time keeping his hands off of her curvaceous body—but maybe that’s what happens when you spend three years cyber flirting with someone?
Zander couldn’t resist smelling the floral scent of her jet black hair as he moved his lips softly against her ear. “Do ye hear that?”
Megan shivered. “Hear what?”
Zander pulled her closer. “That wailing sound.”
Megan listened harder. “I don’t hear anything.”
“Do ye hear that, Dev? We found another one who can’t hear the Banshee singin’,” Zander announced.
“Aye, she mustn’t be Irish,” Devon teased.
“There’s only one way to find out.”
“How?” Megan asked, her blue eyes as round as saucers.
“Throw her in the sea,” Zander shouted, hoisting Megan onto his lap as they drove passed the harbor.
Megan shrieked and giggled as Zander tickled her.
“No! No,” she panted. “I’m part Irish,” Megan insisted. “I swear!”
“Then the banshee will spit ye back out,” Zander said squeezing her tight.
Her angelic face paled. “Did people really think that?”
“Of course, doll face. And we dance naked under rainbows and swim in pots of gold, too.”
Megan narrowed her brilliant blue eyes at him. “Ha, ha, pick on the tourist.”
“You make it too easy, love.”
Megan’s pretty face was screwed up in the, I-disagree-with-you, scowl that Zander had come to adore.
“I’m just messing about. I know ye can handle it. Yer full a piss ‘n vinegar.”
“That’s the Irish part of me,” Megan boasted, playfully shoving Zander.
“Are ye really Irish?”
“Yes, partly.”
“Which part?” Zander asked. “This part?”
Megan squealed as he grabbed her sides, tickling her until she was howling again.
5
Megan
By the time Devon parked in front of Finnegan’s Megan was practically panting with desire. Zander had taken their casual flirting to a whole new level, and not having physical distance to buffer between them was starting to take its toll on her.
Their attraction was combustible. It was January in Ireland and Megan felt hot enough to strip down to her florescent pink Minnie Mouse underwear. She was basically in Zander’s lap for most of the ride to the infamous Dalkey pub, and now that they were there she didn’t know how she’d be able to control herself.
Zander had her so wound up she was likely to drag him into the first bathroom stall she could find and jump his gorgeous bones. Just the thought sent a thrill of exhilaration through her so strong she felt a tightness ratcheting inside her. Shit! She hadn’t even kissed the man yet and he was already giving her a mental orgasm.
Megan’s eyes followed Zander’s finely sculpted ass strolling ahead of her. Her inner goddess raced after him. She wanted to shout, ‘Look, ma! No hands!’ because she was one strong breeze away from having a hell of a mindgasm.
Luckily, Sam showed up to reel Megan back in. “Ya might want to put that thing away,” Sam said not trying to hide her shit-eating grin.
“What? My winning smile?” Megan asked sarcastically.
“I was gonna say your lady boner.”
Megan snorted. “Am I that obvious?”
“I could hear your ovaries cheering in the front seat.”
Megan laughed. “You’re sassy in Ireland,” she quipped. “I like it.”
“Just don’t get too carried away. I mean you should at least be in the country for twenty-four hours before you get yourself deported for dry-humping their youngest billionaire.”
“Yeah, yeah. How long did you wait before making out with Devon at this very bar, ya trollop?”
Sam lifted her chin. “I have no comment.”
Sam scurried away, catching up to Devon, who slung his arm over her shoulder, before turning back to face Megan. “She didn’t make it past the first day,” Devon commented, with a wink, eliciting a playful swat from Sam.
>
Megan smirked, and tried uselessly to shove the hope filling her chest away. But as she watched Zander hold the door to Finnegan’s open for her, she felt like she was looking into her future, and she very much liked what she saw.
Zander
The pub was busy, packed with the usual Friday night crowd. Zander gave a nod to Pete at the bar and held up four fingers before ducking to his favorite room tucked away in the back. Zander wanted to be somewhere he could carry on a conversation. He worried if it was too loud to talk he’d have nothing to distract him from how much he wanted to throw Megan over his shoulder and haul her back to his place.
If Zander had a type, Megan was it. She was built like a gymnast—tight and curvy, just the way Zander liked his women. Megan had curves for days and an arse to rest a pint on. He was itching to get his hands on it the minute he watched her sashay off the plane.
Zander had always known he was attracted to Megan. They’d video chatted often enough that he knew she was gorgeous, but he hadn’t expected her body to be quite so vivacious. Though he shouldn’t have been surprised that Megan’s body matched her sassy attitude. That’s what had caught his attention in the first place. He loved that she was confident and went after what she wanted. And from the way she was looking at him now, there was no denying that he was on her radar.
It was refreshing to know that for once a girl wanted him just for him. Not because he had arse-loads of money or could get them media exposure or a deal with Cor-Tec. Ever since he’d become the face of the company and assigned a PR team, his dating life had become a nightmare. He couldn’t remember the last time he just picked up a jersey chaser at a pub or skipped off with a lass he’d been chatting up all night. He missed the thrill of the chase, the adventure of the game.
Now it seemed like every damn piss he took had to go through Cor-Tec’s public relations department. And Rita Barns, the old cow Cor-Tec assigned him, seemed to think the right women for Zander were all high-maintenance, skeletal types. He had no idea how much of a kickback Cor-Tec was getting from the mind-numbing number of appearances he was clocking with his so-called ladies of the moment, but if Zander had to sit through one more salad-picking, tonic-sipping, selfie-obsessed snooze-fest, sham of a date, he was going to lose it.
Maybe that was why he felt such an instant attraction to Megan? She was real and she knew him. Both of those things normally would scare the piss out of him, but as he watched her marvel gleefully at the pub’s chaotic scene he knew it was more than lust. Finnegan’s and Dalkey were home, and that’s all Zander truly wanted—someone to share the things he loved with. Someone to bring home.
Maybe Megan could be that girl.
Before Zander could think much more on the subject, the last person he wanted to see rounded the corner—Tabitha Hall.
“Shite,” he muttered under his breath as the leggy, blonde model sauntered over to him.
The room cleared a path for her and she walked it like a runway until she snaked her bone-thin arms around him, air-kissing him on each cheek. “Zander, darling. I’m so glad I caught up with you.”
“Ye are?”
“Didn’t Rita tell you I was in town?”
Zander had purposely left his phone in the car to avoid this exact kind of interruption. He just wanted to spend some time with his friends. Was that too much to ask? Shite!
Tabitha smiled her practiced smile, waving away his confusion. “No worries, darling. I’m here now. We must catch up before the gala this weekend.”
Double shite! Zander had completely forgotten to touch base with the PR team about his date for the gala. He’d been so busy with contracts and sponsorship appearances he’d run out of time to reply to Rita’s pestering emails about choosing a date to escort before he’d had to run off to the airport.
Zander preferred to go to the gala alone so he could work the room. And since Megan and his friends had flown in specifically for the black-tie event, he was even more adamant that he not be tied down by the additional obligation of escorting some new eye-candy for the press.
But apparently his plan had backfired if Tabitha Hall thought she was Zander’s date to the gala. They’d only gone out a few times, but the girl was an utter nightmare. She was a popular fashion model and thought she could get away with murder. Zander had never met someone who acted so rude to people she didn’t deem worthy of her attention. She was a complete social-climber and Zander couldn’t stand her.
Of course, he didn’t find any of that out until their fourth date when she threw a drink in a bartender’s face because, according to Tabitha, he made it wrong.
Zander’s first three dates with Tabitha consisted of them jumping each other’s bones in her limo. And until the drink-slinging incident, he’d been blinded by her beauty and thought he’d actually seen potential with Tabitha.
She was the only one of his PR set-ups that he’d had any interest in. But after everything he now knew of her, Zander felt ashamed he’d ever felt anything for the superficial fembot. But Zander was only human. He couldn’t deny that Tabitha was stunning. She was of the long-legged, thin-boned variety, but she’d paid good money to enhance some of her best assets and Zander could attest that they’d been worth every penny. Plus, he was a man for Christ’s sake. Only a total prat would turn down a woman who graced the pages of just about every lingerie magazine on the planet.
But Tabitha’s brand of drama was the last thing Zander needed right now. Especially with Megan within earshot. Zander had thought he’d seen the last of Tabitha when she told him she was jetting off to Milan on a photo shoot. But from the way she was cozying up to him maybe she’d thought otherwise.
Megan
Megan watched in disbelief as Tabitha Hall slinked up to Zander and wrapped her gorgeous mile long limbs around him. Her heart was split between jealousy and envy. Tabitha Hall was a world-renowned super model. And she was here, in the same bar as Megan! Ireland was the shit!
All kinds of celebrities lived in Boston, yet Megan had never met one, and she’d lived there her whole life. Just a few hours into her trip to Ireland and she was rubbing elbows with the stars. And it wasn’t just that Tabitha was stunningly beautiful and famous, but she’d been in one of Megan’s absolute favorite horror films.
“Omigod,” Megan exclaimed walking up to Tabitha, her hand outstretched. “I’m one of your biggest fans. I just loved you in 1922.”
The model took a step back and smiled tightly. “Right, thanks. I’ll have a gin martini, dry.”
“Oh,” Megan laughed, stuttering a bit. “No, I-I’m not the waitress. I’m here with Zander.”
This time, Tabitha laughed, giving Megan a condescending once over. “You’re here with Zander?”
Megan felt her cheeks burn. She could never hold a candle to Tabitha Hall, even on her best day—which was basically today, since Megan had tried to look her best to impress Zander. Megan was wearing her favorite vintage black leather moto jacket, a pair of skinny jeans that hugged her curves and the new black ankle booties her mom had gotten her for Christmas. But from the look Tabitha had given Megan, she might as well have been wearing her giant Weasley sweater and fuzzy pajama pants.
It killed Megan how much Tabitha’s haughty look slayed her. But Megan was the master of her domain and she never let catty bitches get to her, even if they were world-famous super models who were trying to embarrass her in front of the man of her dreams.
“Yep, I am,” Megan said pluckily. “I’m Megan Fields, Zander’s friend from Boston.”
“Funny, he’s never mentioned you,” Tabitha remarked.
“I was just thinking the same thing,” Megan shot back.
“She’s hilarious,” Tabitha purred, turning her attention back to Zander. “Where on earth do you find these people?”
“These people are my friends, Tab,” Zander replied taking a step away from her.
Tabitha turned back toward Megan, seeming to notice Devon and Sam for the first time. “Really?”
Tabitha’s demeanor noticeably changed once she learned everyone’s titles. She quickly shook Devon’s hand, flashing him a winning smile, while Sam got a curt nod and Megan a second glance. “Zander, darling, you should’ve told me your friends were coming out with us tonight. I would’ve dressed up.”
Megan snorted. “Do you own pants that are more sparkly?”
Tabitha was wearing a plunging black top that left little to the imagination, and there was no missing her in her silver sequin pants and stilettos. Megan couldn’t imagine what dressing up was if Tabitha thought she didn’t look flashy enough.
The super model gave Megan a snide look but before Tabitha could reply a waitress squeezed into the room carrying four nearly overflowing pints of Guinness.
“Thanks, Ali,” Zander said taking two pints from her and passing them to Sam and Megan. He grabbed the last two, handing one to Devon and keeping the other for himself.
Tabitha made a pouty face. “Darling, you know I don’t drink that stuff.”
“Right,” he said grimacing. “Ali, can I trouble ye for a drink for the lady?”
“Sure, Z. What’ll it be?” Ali asked in a rapid Irish brogue.
“Gin martini, dry. But only if you have Bombay Sapphire. Everything else is just piss.”
Ali raised her eyebrows, but turned back the way she’d come muttering angrily under her breath.
“Meg, let’s go to the ladies’,” Sam said linking arms with her as Megan drained half her pint in two long gulps.
“I don’t need to go to the ladies’ room,” Megan muttered eyeing Tabitha jealously. The leggy twat had snaked a long arm around Zander’s waist.
“I think you do,” Sam insisted, practically dragging Megan from the room.