Megan

Megan woke with a splitting headache. The blinding sunlight spilling into the room did nothing to help. She covered her eyes with her hands, peering through her fingers to let the world come into focus. She moved slowly, fearing the wrath of her hangover.

Her bed was empty and a wave of déjà vu washed over her. Zander had left a path of tangled sheets in his wake, like he’d been in a rush to vacate her bed. The great disappearing Zander strikes again, she thought bitterly.

Megan was beginning to find it difficult not to take it personally. But then again, she was doing nothing to help her case as she remembered that Zander had witnessed her go all Jeffrey V-ahmer on the toilet last night. Not her finest moment.

Groaning with embarrassment, Megan swung her legs over the bed and winced. A purple welt bloomed from her knee to shin. Great! She was cursing her clumsiness when she spotted a miracle on the bedside table. Coffee and a blueberry muffin had been laid out for her, and there was a note.

Shakespeare he was not. But he’d brought her food and left a note. That had to be a good sign, right? The coffee had gone cold, but Megan drank it anyway, savoring the taste of sweet cream and caffeine. She picked a sugary crumb from the top of the muffin and popped it into her mouth. It was delicious. She only allowed herself to eat half of it, not wanting to anger her alcohol-ravaged stomach.

Megan pulled on a pair of sweats and limped to the bathroom. The reflection that greeted her wasn’t good. She’d managed to wash her face at least, but her eyes were bloodshot and her hair looked like a collection of dead crows had taken up residency. She turned the shower on and let the hot water singe away the remains of her humiliating night.

She dressed slowly, dreading facing Zander. She knew she needed to apologize for acting like a sorority girl on a bender, but she wasn’t looking forward to it. Zander had made it perfectly clear he wanted nothing to do with her, and that had been before she’d turned into a vomit comet. But they still had three more days of camping to get through, so the sooner she apologized the sooner they could get on with it. With any luck they could at least call a truce.

Megan trudged downstairs on her aching knee and hobbled into the B&B’s cheery café. Sunlight warmed the solarium, where Zander was sitting hunched over his laptop. His back was to her and Megan took a moment to appreciate the view. Why did he have to be so stupidly gorgeous? It made staying mad at him impossible—and wanting to drag him back to bed inevitable.

She shook her disturbing thoughts away and sucked up her pride, ready to apologize.

“Morning,” she said trying to hide her limp as she walked toward his table.

Zander blinked up at her, his mouth in a tight, unreadable line.

Megan sighed. He certainly wasn’t going to make this easy. “So I just wanted to apologize for last night. It wasn’t my proudest moment.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Ye seemed to be feelin’ mighty fine from what I recall,” Zander replied flatly.

“Yes, well I was upset. I had a little too much to drink and I didn’t handle it well.”

Zander huffed a laugh. “I’ll say.”

Megan clenched her fists. “Ya know, you were easier to talk to when we lived in separate countries.”

“Likewise.”

Megan growled and stomped out of the room in frustration only to stop halfway to the door. Zander had gotten her so wound up that she’d nearly forgotten what she came downstairs for. She turned around and marched back up to his table exhaling dramatically. “I came down here to say thank you for taking care of me last night and I’m sorry I puked on your shoes.”

His head snapped up. “What about my shoes?”

Shit! Maybe he hadn’t noticed them in his haste to get away from her. “Oh, um. Nothing. I’ll let you get back to your work. I’ll be upstairs whenever you’re ready to go.”

Megan ran back up to their room planning to clean Zander’s spew-speckled shoes or throw them out the window at the very least. She didn’t need to give him any more ammunition.

Zander

Zander’s guilt was getting the best of him. He slammed his laptop shut. He hadn’t been able to concentrate on work ever since Megan stomped out of the café. Why did he act like such an arse around her? Just because he didn’t have the stones to pursue her didn’t mean he had to treat her like an absolute wanker. But it seemed he couldn’t control his mouth whenever Megan was near. Stupidity just spewed freely in her presence.

He scrubbed his face, unable to shake the lost feeling that had settled over him. If he survived the rest of this trip it would be a miracle.

When Zander returned to their hotel room, he found Megan sitting on the bed, her pant leg rolled up to reveal an angry purple bruise covering her knee. He frowned deeply, his concern for her instantly overruling everything else.

“Megan,” he breathed striding toward her.

“It looks worse than it is,” she replied moving to push her pant leg back down.

“Stop,” Zander ordered, sitting down on the bed, his hand pushing hers away so he could examine the bruise.

“It’s really not that bad.”

“Let me see,” he demanded, pulling her leg into his lap.

Megan

Megan forced herself to swallow her groan of pleasure as Zander massaged the sore muscles around her knee. Her cheeks flushed with shame at her weakness for him. Even after the way he’d treated her, she was still putty in his hands.

He bent his head closer to hers as he inspected her injury. It was a test of her will not to kiss him.

“Are you an expert on knee injuries?” she finally asked as he poked and prodded around her kneecap.

“Ye could say I know a thing or two.”

“From soccer?”

“Football, but yes.”

“You had a knee injury, didn’t you?”

He nodded, continuing his examination.

“Is that the reason you don’t play anymore?”

“One of them.”

“Oh?” she asked, wanting to keep him talking. It was the only thing distracting her from the way his hands were making her feel. “Did you love it?”

“What?”

“Playing soccer?”

“Football. Yes, I did.”

“Do you miss playing?”

“Of course.”

“Why’d you give it up?”

He shrugged. “I wasn’t gonna make pro.”

“Couldn’t you still play for fun?”

He snorted like he thought it was the most ridiculous idea he’d ever heard.

“What? You have heard of fun, haven’t you?”

“Yes, but I wanted to play pro.”

Megan rolled her eyes. “Fine, you have more money than you know what to do with. Why don’t you just buy a team and put yourself on the roster?”

He looked up at her, bewilderment glowing in his sharp, emerald eyes. “Because that’s not the way the world works, Megan.”

“Why not?” she challenged, knowing full well she was being childish, but she was just so happy he was talking to her that she couldn’t resist.

“Because it’s not. It’s all fine and well to go about wishing and dreaming yer way through life, but just because ye say it’s so doesn’t mean it is. Ye can’t just go wishing things into existence.”

“Well you can’t get what you want if you’re too afraid to go after it,” she countered.

Zander shook his head and gently placed her leg back on the bed as he stood up. “Yer knee’s fine.”

“Thanks Dr. Doom, I sorta had that one figured out on my own,” she called after him as he walked into the bathroom and shut the door.