“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?”
“Yes, this is my business partner, Devon James, his girlfriend Samantha Connors and my friend Megan Fields. Megan is shooting Cor-Tec’s new film campaign.”
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.
“What the hell was that?” Sam asked when they were finally in the ladies’ room.
“I know, right? Freaking Tabitha Hall is a total bitch waffle!” Megan exclaimed.
“I was talking about you.”
“Me? What did I do?”
“Besides practically claw her eyes out?”
“I didn’t touch her.”
“You didn’t have to. You know your face is an open book. You looked like you wanted to punch her every time she opened her mouth,” Sam accused.
“Well that’s because I did. The girl’s a class-A fame-whore. Did you see the way she fawned over Devon when she found out who he was? I hate fake bitches and that ho is wicked fake!”
“I know,” Sam said. “And so does Zander, but if you don’t tone down your Boston brawler attitude, he’s gonna be pissed at you too.”
Megan wrinkled her nose in disgust, but she knew Sam was right. Zander and Megan had several conversations about how much they despised phony people, or pretenders, as Zander called them. She remembered because she had unknowingly accused him of dating too many of them, causing him to admit that Cor-Tec’s PR team had been setting him up with all these high-profile head cases to ride the wave of fame as long as they could.
Zander had seemed rather agitated about the subject so Megan tried not to press him when she saw tabloid photos of him with other women. Plus, it did her ego good to think he was only posing with them for press, not actually hooking up with these women who possessed unattainable levels of mortal hotness.
And what could she even say? Technically she and Zander were just friends who flirted online. If she thought that gave her the right to act like a jealous diva than she had bigger problems than Tabitha Hall.
“Fine,” Megan muttered. “But give me a sip of your beer so I can calm down.”
Sam handed it over. “What happened to your beer?”
“I chugged it on my way to the bathroom.”
Sam rolled her eyes. “Can you at least try to pace yourself? You know you’re a lightweight.”
“All is fair in love and beer,” Megan said after slamming what was left of Sam’s beer and burping loudly.
“And now you’re speaking in quotes. Just great,” Sam muttered following Megan out of the bathroom.
Megan tried not to let Tabitha ruin her night, but she couldn’t help being bothered by the fact that she’d never seen any photos of Zander and Tabitha together. Megan would’ve remembered that. Before meeting the model, Megan had been a big fan and she would’ve pestered Zander for details and at the very least an autograph if he was pretend dating her. Plus, he knew how much Megan loved 1922. She’d been nagging him to watch that movie for a few months now.
They routinely watched the same movies so they could argue each other’s points. Their conversations mostly consisted of Megan telling Zander his taste in film was abysmal, which it was, but she sent him a list of movies he needed to work his way through to improve it. It was the same list she’d been trudging through with Devon to get him up to the twenty-first century. Ireland really needed to get up to speed on their movies.
Zander had been surprisingly eager to watch nearly every movie on the list just so he could debate them with Megan. And now that Megan was thinking about it, it seemed strange that he had skipped over the one movie that Tabitha Hall happened to star in. It couldn’t be a coincidence. She really wished it were, but her gut was telling her something more was going on, and her gut was seldom wrong.
A dark and doubtful seed began to take root in Megan’s chest. It worried her that Zander had kept whatever he and Tabitha were from her. They told each other everything—secrets, worries, fears, hopes, dreams. The fact that he hadn’t told her about Tabitha meant it was big. And maybe more of an obstacle than Megan’s resilient optimism could handle.
Suddenly Megan wasn’t ready to face Zander and Tabitha again. She quickly changed course and veered toward the bar, easily losing Sam in the crowd. She quickly caught the attention of an old barkeep and held up two fingers.
“Jägermeister,” Megan yelled.
The old man eyed her suspiciously. “Ye got ID?”
“Sure do.” Megan slapped it down on the counter and the bartender coughed a laugh.
“Christ, ye look like yer sixteen.”
Megan grimaced. “Yeah, yeah, I’m short and I’ve still got my baby fat, I’ve noticed.”
The bartender laughed again. “Two Jägers?”
“Yep?”
“Both of ‘em for you?”
“Maybe.”
“Why don’t ye tell me who ye suppose the other is for, lass?”
“Because the other might be to throw in the face of the slutty giraffe trying to steal my man.”
“Aye, now if ye tell me dat I can’t be serving ye any Jägers, lass.”
“But I’m old enough to drink. Look,” she said waving her ID at him again. “Megan Fields. Date of birth, August—”
“Shite! Megan Fields, did ye say?”
“Yeah?”
“Well why didn’t ye say so?”
“I just did. Do you know me?”
“Of course. I’m Pete,” he said excitedly.
“Pete?”
“I’ve known Zander since he was a wee lad. Still acts like one from time ta time but he’s turnin’ a new leaf it seems.”
“So it seems.”
“I’ll be,” Pete said slapping the counter. “Megan Fields.”
“So Zander talks about me?” Megan felt like a schoolgirl asking such a question but she couldn’t deny the rush of relief that flooded her when Pete nodded enthusiastically.
“All the time. He talks to ye here a lot. I’m sure ye know dat, but ye probably didn’t know I was privy to y
er conversations. Hazard of the job I s’pose. But don’t worry, my lips are sealed.”
Megan grinned. “Well maybe my second shot of Jäger is for you.”
Pete made a face. “Nah, I don’t drink that shite.”
“Well what do you drink?”
“Whiskey, but not while I work.”
“Ah come on Pete, you’re the first friend I’ve made in Ireland. We should celebrate.”
“Dat we should.” Pete winked and poured two shots of Jäger for Megan and a nip of whiskey for himself.
“Cheers,” Megan said shooting both shots in a hurry.
“Sláinte,” Pete murmured.
“So he really talks about me, huh?”
“He certainly does.”
“What does he say?”
“Ah no ye don’t. Yer in Ireland, lass. The pub’s as good as any confessional and dats cause us barkeeps keep our yaps shut.”
Megan grinned and nodded to the bottle of Jäger. “One more?”
Pete poured her another shot and Megan drank it slower.
“Did you know I’ve wanted to come to Ireland my whole life?”
“I didn’t,” Pete said, leaning onto the bar, ignoring the throng of patrons clamoring for drinks.
“Did you also know that I’ve had a crush on Zander for three years?”
Pete gave her a toothy grin. “Dat I might’ve guessed.”
“Three whole years, Pete! That’s crazy. I’m not usually crazy like that. Well, okay, I’m a little kooky but in more of a cute, artsy way. Not like a stalky way.”
“I see.”
“And ya know something? I think Zander likes me back.”
“I’d say he’s quite smitten wit ye, lass.”
Megan grinned. “Wanna know a secret, Pete?”
“Always.”
“I think he’s the guy I’m gonna marry.”
“Is dat so?”
“Yep.”
“Do ye plan on lettin’ him in on dat dar secret?”
“Maybe.”
“What’s holdin’ ye back?”
“Oh just a six foot gazelle in sparkly pants.”
“Aye, he’s brought another of ‘em ‘round, has he?”
Megan finished her shot and slumped against the bar, nodding.
“Don’t look so glum, they don’t hold a candle to ye, Miss Megan Fields.”
“Thanks, Pete. You’re a good friend. Has anyone ever told ya that?”
“Aye, s’pose a time or two dat’s been said.”
“Well it’s true.”
“Look here, lass. Ye don’t seem like the type dat lets these paper girls stand in yer way.”
“Paper girls?” Megan asked arching her eyebrow.
“Aye, the pressed-thin kind dat look like they’re liable to blow away in a strong breeze.”
Megan barked a laugh. “You’re right, Pete. You know me so well. I’m gonna go get my man.”
“Ye do dat, lass.”
“Bye, Pete! Good talk,” Megan called as she pushed her way back through the crowd.
6
Zander
When Megan came back she was a much pluckier version than he’d yet seen. Her bright blue eyes were glassy and her porcelain complexion held a rosy glow. Perhaps she really was part Irish. She certainly had that Irish drinking flush.
“There you guys are!” Megan exclaimed as she staggered into the room, rejoining Devon, Zander and Tabitha.
Megan’s voice was too loud, even for the packed pub, and she nearly knocked Tabitha’s martini from her hand as she bumped into her.
“Watch my drink,” Tabitha hissed pointing to the untouched cocktail in her grip.
“Oh, thanks,” Megan said swiping the glass from Tabitha and slurping from it.
Zander thought Tabitha’s eyes might actually pop out of her head. He was torn between admiration and shock that Megan had just stolen the pretentious model’s drink. He wondered how many people had done so and lived to tell the tale. Probably none.
This was not going well. Zander edged closer to Megan ready to head off the hen fight that was sure to come. But Tabitha whirled toward Zander instead, her indignant look warning that he’d better avenge her stolen cocktail. But really all Zander could do was laugh. Tabitha had just been blithering on about how it was impossible to get a good martini in Ireland before Megan swiped the drink—and now she wanted it back? He was glad Megan had swooped in with her beautiful brand of oblivious chaos and stolen the martini. Someone may as well enjoy it.
“Well?” Tabitha hissed, glaring at him impatiently.
“It seems like Megan is enjoying the martini more than you,” Zander offered.
Wrong answer.
Tabitha gave him a simmering look before turning on her heels and stomping from the bar.
“Bye, paper girl!” Megan called after her. Then she turned to the boys and whispered loudly. “I’m so glad she left, she’s kind of a buzz kill, right?”
Zander burst out laughing.
“Where’s Sam?” Devon asked, looking around the bar.
“I dunno,” Megan slurred.
“I thought she went with ye to the ladies’?”
“Oh yeah. I lost her by the bar.”
As Megan tried to point out the exact spot to Devon she bumped into him and he had to maneuver quickly to save his beer. “Christ, Megs. What have ye gotten into?”
She giggled. “Some Jäger.”
Just then Sam pushed her way into their space.
“Good Christ, Sam. Ye were supposed to be watching her,” Devon said.
Sam cut her eyes at him. “You were right, okay? She’s harder to babysit than she seems.”
Devon puffed out his chest triumphantly at what must have been an inside joke. But Zander’s attention quickly returned to Megan, who finished her martini and twirled around in a circle. “I’m in Ireland!”
“For now,” Sam warned.
“Ah, come on. She’s just having a bit a fun,” Zander said sticking up for Megan.
“Fine, then she can be your responsibility,” Sam said.
“Fine by me. I don’t see what all the fuss is about. She’s positively pint-sized. How much trouble could a wee lass that fits in yer pocket be?” Zander teased scooping Megan off her feet.
“This much,” she replied, planting a booze-infused kiss on his lips.
Zander was so shocked he nearly dropped her. Luckily his body took over, responding to the hungry slant of her lips on his with a raging desire of his own.
“Wow, I think she broke yer first kiss record, Sam,” Devon joked.
“You’re the one who kissed me, Romeo,” Sam replied.
“No, he’s Prince Charming,” Megan corrected once she unlocked her lips from Zander’s. She was still cradled in his arms and she looked up at him with her disarming blue eyes. “I think maybe you could be my Prince Charming.”
Zander blinked back at her, utterly shocked. Megan had gone from flirty to frisky so quickly that he could barely keep up. The girl certainly moved fast and he gave her credit for going after what she wanted, but his heart pounded with fear. Things were moving too fast. He’d thought he was ready for this, but maybe he wasn’t.
“Let’s go,” Sam insisted.
“But we’re having fun,” Megan whined.
“Ye heard the drill sergeant. Fun’s over,” Zander mocked.
Sam rolled her eyes as Zander hoisted Megan over his shoulder before following her and Devon out of the pub.
On the way to the door, Megan called out and waved toward the bar. “Bye, Pete!”
And to Zander’s surprise, Pete waved back. He even smiled. The old bloke smiled for no one. Zander glanced over his shoulder at Megan who was still waving. What had he missed?
Megan
Thankfully the ride back to Zander’s was short because Megan could think of nothing but kissing him again. The man even kissed like a god. Megan found herself wondering if maybe Irishmen held magic powers in their lips. She’d alway
s been partial to their accents, repeatedly telling Zander she could listen to nothing but him reciting the alphabet and die blissfully. But kissing Zander’s glorious Irish lips had been a whole different kind of bliss. The way his tongue caressed hers made her insides liquefy. She could barely remember her name or how she’d gotten into his arms. All she’d known was that she didn’t want it to stop.
The car rolled to a stop as the gates to the James’ Estate creaked open. The pause offered Megan a momentary reprieve from her wanton thoughts. She looked out the window at the sprawling grounds and her jaw dropped.
“Sam! You severely under sold this place. It’s even better than Hogwarts.”
Devon laughed from the driver’s seat.
“You seriously grew up here?” Megan asked.
“Afraid so,” Devon replied.
“That’s it, I’m never retiring the title Prince Charming.”
“Why?” Devon asked.
“You grew up in a freaking castle!” Megan squawked. “And you,” she said turning on Zander. “Why didn’t you tell me how Potter-rific this place is? I mean which way is the Forbidden Forest? Do you have your own Dementors too?”
“Probably because he knew you’d react like this,” Sam teased.
Megan scrunched up her nose in injustice. “I’m sorry, how is one supposed to act when they find out all of their friends lived in a fairytale castle?”
“Exactly like this,” Zander said squeezing Megan’s knee reassuringly.
The touch knocked all sense from her and she found herself at a loss for words again.
Devon parked the Defender and Eggsy and a butler shuffled out of the castle to greet them. Megan recognized the butler instantly. “Thornton!” she cried, leaping from the car to give the old man a hug.
Thornton stumbled back in surprise, but quickly regained his composure. “Hello, Miss Fields. Welcome to Ireland.”
“Thornton, I’ve told you a million times. It’s just Megan.” She smiled at the butler she’d grown accustom to over the past few years of video chats with Zander.
“Very well. Megan it is.”
“Thornton, have their bags arrived from the airport?” Zander asked.
“Yes, Master O’Leary. I’ve had them delivered to the rooms you specified.”
The Maybe Boyfriend Page 4
