Chapter Five

Chapter Five

The morning seemed bright and cheery. Of course, that might have been in part to the whole understanding that my breakfast heaven waited for me as soon as I could be presentable.

When I finished dressing, my phone chirped telling me I had a text message.

Thank you for last night. Looking forward to seeing you soon. Rowland.

Be still my beating heart.

A guy that didn’t wait to call? Okay, so maybe it was just a text, but he was scoring big points.

Quickly I typed back.

Me: Thanks. See you Wednesday.

I wore my smile to breakfast, and tried to figure out how to spend the day. The same waiter as yesterday was serving me so I asked him for advice.

“I’d complete any sightseeing before this evening. There’s a football game that is quite important and the crazies will be out.” He nodded sagely as he filled my coffee mug.

Could I take him home with me?

“Crazies?” I asked, realizing what he said.

“Yes, miss. The crazies. Those who are obsessed with football. There will be masses of them in the streets this evening before and after the game, dressed up and making a ruckus.” He shook his head, but I could see he held back a grin of amusement.

“Like tailgating at football game?”

“American football? Yes, I would imagine it would be similar.”

“Oh, I can handle that. Where can I watch the game? If I’m in Scotland, I want the whole experience.”

“If you really want the… experience…” He hesitated on the word. “Then I’d suggest the Beer and Skittles Bar.”

“Pardon?” Beer and Skittles? I was pretty sure we were speaking a totally different cultural language. At least the skittles part.

“Yes. It’s lesser known to the tourists, but a nice place. If you didn’t know it was there, you’d pass it right by. The Missus and I like it there. Decent food, large screens and if the weather’s nice, you can take your meal outdoors. Not bad.”

“Sounds perfect. I’ll ask the front desk for directions.”

“It’s not too far, you can easily walk.” With a smile, he strode away, checking on other guests.

My phone went off and I glanced to the screen.

Roxi: How was millionaire?

I replied.

Me: I might… MIGHT forgive you for a few things. He was pretty nice.

The little bubble popped up and I waited.

Roxi: Nice as in you have a great personality but… or nice as in take me to your place?

I blushed.

Me: You’ll never know.

Her reply was instant.

Roxi: Go girl! I told you that you might meet the one! He’s nice AND rich! Go Mere, GO!

Quickly, I responded.

Me: I said nice. Not that I was going to give him a key to my room.

And with that, I remembered that Kirby still had a key to my room. Damn the man. I needed to get that back. There was no telling what he’d try to pull with that kind of unlimited access. I glared at my phone.

Me: Still haven’t forgiven you for throwing me under the bus with Kirby.

I could imagine her shaking her head.

Roxi: You’re fine. Seriously, you’re both adults. Between you and him bitching about this, if I didn’t know better I’d think you were in elementary school and hiding away a secret fascination for one another. Enough already!

I bit my lip.

Me: I’m seeing millionaire on Wednesday.

She answered quickly.

Roxi: Great! I want details, and don’t make me have to ask you for them! Unless of course you’re at his place and need some space…

I growled.

Me: Whatever. As if I’d tell you. You’re still on my shit list.

Roxi: You love me.

Shaking my head, I typed back.

Me: That’s your only saving grace right now.

After I said goodbye, I made my way to the front desk and asked when the game took place so I wouldn’t miss it. I had several hours to kill, so I explored the nearby Prince Mall.

When it was almost time for the game, I headed back to the hotel and double-checked my directions.

The last thing I needed was to be lost.

In a foreign country.

At night.

With the crazies about.

Armed with my route, I made my way out from the hotel and walked toward King’s Row. The Beer and Skittles Bar wasn’t far, but it did take me a good fifteen minutes of a walk to get there. My breakfast waiter was right; if I didn’t know it was there, I would have walked right by it.

Before I pushed open the door I heard the yells and cheers from the game. Apparently, I had missed the first part. I picked one of the few spots at the bar, ordered a hard cider, and scanned the menu. Several large screens dotted the wall, and the pub was packed with cheering and yelling fans, depending on the call at the moment. Even though I wasn’t a big soccer fan, it was easy to get caught up in the excitement of it all.

“Go Scotland!” People cheered loudly, sometimes randomly as they watched the screens with rapt awe. Football — soccer — was practically worshiped, and I found myself more mesmerized by the fans than the game itself. After ordering a hot dog, I bit into the kosher beef and scanned the crowd. It seemed to grow by the minute, but as promised, there was no ‘touristy’ feel; rather, it seemed like the bar where everyone knew one another.

Some men at the far right of the bar were growing louder and louder with every period of the game. By the final one, they were singing the Scottish anthem as they watched. Of course, that Scotland was winning against Whales — their arch rival — only added to their exuberance.

I turned my attention to the screen and watched as Scotland kicked and scored the winning goal. The bar went wild.

And I mean wild.

People cheered! Ale flew and the Scottish national anthem was sung loudly, off tune, and with a gusto only the drunk can accomplish.

After paying my tab, I grabbed my purse and walked toward the exit, but a familiar voice stopped me.

“We’ve done it lads! Scotland!” A loud roar startled me and I turned, watching as none other than Kirby vaulted on top of the bar and led the crowd in a song.

O Flouer o Scotland,

Whan will we see,

Yer like again,

That focht and dee'd for,

Yer wee bit Hill an Glenn,

An stuid agin him,

Prood Edward's Airmie,

An sent him hamewart,

Tae think again.

Seriously? He was probably drunk but maybe that would work in my favor. I needed my room key. Marching back, I walked up the bar and raised an eyebrow.

“I need to speak with you.” I tried to be civil, I mean, we were in pubic and all.

“I dinna want to speak with ye.” He one-arm dismounted from the bar and slapped a man on the back.

“I need my room key,” I yelled so he could hear me above the roar of the bar crowd. Have you ever noticed that when you’re in a crowd and you yell… it’s always at the time when everything else gets quiet so everyone hears what you’ve said?

Yeah. That was what happened.

“Room key? No.” He shrugged and walked off.

“Whoo!” The man he slapped on the back whistled and, in return, punched Kirby in the shoulder. “That’s a lad! Beddin’ the American!”

“No… no there was no bedding,” I felt the need to interject.

The man’s gaze grew confused, and I could see the glazed look in his eyes. Far too many beers from what I could see.

Kirby glanced to me, an evil gleam in his eye. Then he gave me a sly grin and pulled out his wallet. Finding the key, he kissed it and held it up. The bar erupted in cheers. “She was a tight lass… and a wicked one — let me tell you.”

Seriously, was this actually happening?

“No! No, there was no… nothing!” I shouted above the roar of approval.

“Ach, lass dinna be shy.” He shook his head. “The best kinda love is the love of a highlander.”

The crowd erupted in cheers once more.

Shoot. Me. Now.

“Kirby!” I shouted.

The crowd continued to roar.

“KIRBY!” I shouted louder, just at the moment where the room had a quiet pause.

“Kirby?” A man to his left wore a confused expression.

Kirby narrowed his eyes at me. Then turned to his friend. “I dinna understand this American woman. She insisted on calling me that name… but I dinna care as long as she—”

“Kirk!” I shouted, effectively ending whatever he was going to say. His expression was triumphant as he sauntered toward me. “Ach lass, dinna you worry. Church will make you pay for your many sins.” He pulled me in close against his hard body and damned if my own didn’t respond like a match to the flame.

Ignoring the way my every nerve ending seemed to catch fire while he held me in his arms, I pushed away. “Key. Now.” I held out my hand.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“YES!” I pushed at him.

“Bad idea.” He wrapped me in his arms almost forcibly, then reached up and ran his fingers through my hair, pulling it and kissing the nape of my neck, searing it with his heat, his scent. Powerless to push away, I tried to ignore the way darts of desire stormed my system.

“This, Merry, is what you will never...” He kissed my neck, sending shivers down my spine and causing goose bumps to erupt all over. “Ever.” He rubbed his stubble of beard against the sensitive spot just below my right ear and inhaled deeply, making my feverish skin grow cold. “Ever have.” Then as quickly as he had drawn me in, he pushed me away.

“Ever.” With a wink he gave me his back and walked toward his friend, slapping the other man’s outstretched hand.

Stunned and far too aroused to even create a coherent thought, I stared. His back bunched with every step, and as much as I hated him… I wanted him.

Then as quickly as my brain shut off, it flipped back on. “I see…” I pretended to be hurt deeply, blinking as if holding back tears. “But you were the only one willing to fulfill my fantasy.”

He turned, eyes narrowing with suspicion.

The crowd grew quiet, anticipation thick in the room.

“I mean, to be bold enough for me to paint you with glitter… there’s few men who would prance around in that pink gown.” I sniffed and with real effort, worked up an honest to goodness, tear. “You were the one… Kirby. You were my unicorn.“ I held a hand to my face and hiccupped.

He blinked as if totally shocked.

The crowd was silent, as if deciding whether to be offended or proud.

“I see how it goes…” I nodded shakily, wrapping my arms around myself. “but I’ll never be the same without your…” I paused, waiting till everyone was looking at me. “…glitter.” I sniffed. “I still can’t believe you called it that.” I gave a gentle laugh, as if reliving a memory.

And it worked like a charm. His friends started to glance from me, to him, them back.

For effect, I whispered, “Unicorn.”

“Dinna believe her!” Kirby bumped shoulders with his friend, but it was too late. His friend smiled in response, but his gaze darted between me and Kirby then back.

“Kirby… my unicorn with the pink cape,” I spoke softly, knowing that the people around would hear and spread the word. Acting dejected, I walked away slowly, pausing at the door to give a last forlorn glance back, and then left.

“And that’s how it’s done.” I dusted my hands off and walked toward my hotel.

We weren’t in junior high anymore. Kirby was playing with a big girl now, and he was going to get burned if he thought he could get away with anything.

Yet, as I walked home, I remembered the way he kissed my neck, and the way my body responded.

And I wondered if I wasn’t the one playing with fire.

And the one who was, in the end, going to end up burned.