Megan

Megan proceeded to get herself good and drunk inside the merry little pub. She did shots with the band and even joined them on stage when they started playing ‘Galway Girl’.

“That’s me!” she shrieked jumping up and down to the catchy tune. “Her eyes were black and her hair was blue!” she belted, screwing up the lyrics.

Her blunder got a roar of laughter from the crowd, but soon they were all taking turns spinning her around the makeshift dance floor that had opened up between the abandoned tables.

When the song was over, Megan made her way to the bar gasping with laughter. “One more round!” she declared.

“‘fraid not, love,” the bartender replied.

“What? Come on! I’m yer Galway Girl,” she slurred.

“Not tonight, darlin’,” he drawled nodding in Zander’s direction.

Megan had tried to ignore Zander’s presence while she got obliterated, but it was nearly impossible with his hulking frame sulking at the corner of the bar. He spent the night sipping water and tapping at his phone. He looked positively miserable, which only made Megan want to rebel even more.

Who was he to tell her what to do? Zander had made himself perfectly clear. He didn’t want her, not as a girlfriend, or apparently even a friend. And that was fine. It sucked, but it was life. She’d move on. But that didn’t mean she’d have to be miserable about it. She was in Ireland and she was damn sure gonna enjoy herself.

And she had. She’d danced the night away to incredible music and she didn’t want it to end, even though she knew she’d already far surpassed her alcohol tolerance.

“Just one more drink?” Megan begged. “The band’s still got another set.”

The bartender laughed but shook his head, passing Zander the check. He handed over a wad of cash and shook his head when the bartender offered change.

Megan had a sneaking suspicion Zander had paid the man handsomely to cut her fun short.

“Can we leave now?” Zander asked, his voice sounding much more patient than he looked.

“Fine,” Megan grumbled. “I was getting tired anyway.”

Zander handed Megan her jacket and followed her out the door. The stinging February wind nearly knocked her on her ass, but Zander’s ever-present hand was there at her back to steady her.

Megan pulled on her jacket and zipped it up to her nose. “It’s cold as balls out here!”

Zander didn’t say a word.

Megan shivered in her boots as she shuffled her feet, stumbling up the narrow path that somehow passed as a shoulder to the road. One of the things Megan had discovered on their trek today was that Ireland’s roads were definitely lacking.

She slipped on the slick grass where the soft shoulder sloped down and Zander hauled her off her feet.

“What are you doing?” she squealed.

“It’ll take us ‘til St. Patty’s Day to get home at the rate ye stumble,” he growled hefting her into his arms like she weighed nothing at all.

As much as Megan wanted to protest, it was much warmer to be snuggled against Zander’s massive chest. And damn the man for smelling like an eternal well of Irish Spring soap. She snuggled into him, tucking her head against his neck.

“You smell good,” she murmured, giggling when she realized she’d said the thought out loud.

“You smell like a distillery,” he muttered.

“You’re mean.”

“So I hear. But for now, yer stuck with me, so let’s just get ye home, eh?”

Zander

Zander had just managed to get Megan into bed when she turned green and sprinted to the bathroom to rid her stomach of the copious amounts of booze that led to her sloppy state. The rest of the night was spent walking her back and forth from bed to toilet.

Finally, it seemed she’d nothing left to expel. Zander held her upright as she splashed cold water on her face and washed her mouth out. She’d exhausted herself being violently ill and swayed on her feet as she stumbled from the sink toward the bedroom.

Zander silently scooped her up in his arms and carried her to bed. For once she didn’t fight him. It was how he knew she was finally ready to let sleep claim her. He gently laid her in the large bed and pulled the covers over her.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, shivering against the chill of the night.

Zander swept her damp black hair away from her pale cheeks. “Get some sleep.”

He spent the next few hours burying himself in the task of weeding through his growing mountain of emails. He’d tried scrolling through them on his phone at Fitzpatrick’s but Megan was too damn distracting.

Zander sighed and rubbed the drowsiness from his eyes. It may have been the weekend, but the work never ended for him. The software he had helped develop was making Cor-Tec the most sought-after system on the market. Proposals were pouring in and Zander didn’t have the manpower to keep up with them. He hadn’t been lying when he said he needed to work through the weekend rather than go on this camping trip. If things kept up like this he would burn out soon.

Bleary-eyed, he finally called it a night. Wrestling his demons, Zander climbed into the bed with Megan. It was plenty big enough for them both, but it still felt risky to be so close to something he wanted with every fiber of his being. He prayed for the willpower not to wrap her in his arms and wake her with the desperate need of his lips.

Even after seeing Megan at her worst tonight, it hadn’t been enough to make him want to walk away. She was a mess, but he wanted her to be his mess. Seeing her so wrecked had only endeared her further into his heart. He could see how good he could be for her if he’d only let himself. He was the anchor to her ship, the tether to her kite. Without him she was bound to rip wildly through the world, and without her he was just a dull weight without purpose.

He wished he could be strong enough to repair the rift between them, but there had been too much tension and tonight he’d snapped. Zander was angry with himself for the things he’d said to her. He hadn’t meant them. She was right, he was a coward and he was broken. But she’d been wrong about one thing—she could fix him. If only he was brave enough to let her.

Zander rolled over, turning his back toward Megan. The bed creaked loudly and he felt her shift toward him.

“Zander?” she mumbled, her voice full of sleep.

He didn’t dare reply. Maybe she’d think he was asleep. She sounded half asleep herself. She snuggled closer, her warm body fitting against his like they’d been made for each other. He stilled.

“Zander?” she whispered again.

Still he didn’t answer, though he was sure the pounding of his heart would give his desires away. His breath caught when he felt Megan’s fingers light on his back. At first he thought she was trying to wake him, but then he realized she was working out a pattern, her gentle fingers tracing lines among his tattoos.

All at once, he figured out what she was doing and an ache washed over him so powerfully it was a struggle not to let the strangled cry from his throat. Megan was tracing his stars. The stars he’d had etched into his skin for the quote they both loved—Maybe the stars have a plan for us.

Zander had found the quote after he’d lost his mother and he’d clung to the hope in it. It had become a steadying force in his world that felt otherwise adrift. He’d added the stars to the tattoo of his last name that adorned his shoulders as a reminder that there was a greater force at work and maybe better things were to come for him.

He been shocked when he found the quote was special to Megan too. She’d said she loved the romanticism of it. Zander had never told her its significance to him, but here she was, tracing the stars of his tattoo, like she knew—like she’d always been able to see into his soul, no matter how hard he tried to keep it from her.

Zander’s muscles coiled with tension as he resisted the urge to shudder against Megan’s touch. Eventually her fingers slow and then stilled, dropping away. Her head came to rest against the warmth of his back and he felt her eyelashes flutter closed against him. She sighed and soon her breathing returned to a regular pace as she let sleep pull her under again.

Zander squeezed his eyes shut, his heart throbbing with grief. A dark thought pressed its way into his mind as he wondered what tattoo he would get when Megan left him . . .