Pants on Fire (8 page)

“I wasn’t thinking about it,” Megan grumbled.

“Why can’t you love him?”

“My mother asked me that same question.”

Alicia finished her sandwich, washed it down with half a glass of wine and picked up her paints again. “I’ll paint, you talk.”

Megan sighed. “We don’t know anything about each other. I don’t know where he works, all I know is that he’s involved with business, and apparently hotels. I don’t know where he lives. I don’t know anything about his family. He doesn’t know what I do for a living.”

“What do you know about him?”

“He uses these stupid pick-up lines and I just laugh at them. I should slap him but I can’t help laughing at them. He likes art and history and hiking. And sex, he really likes sex. He likes turkey club sandwiches and white wine and what’s the point of any of this?”

“You said you knew nothing about him, but that sounds like an awful lot of somethings. And he probably knows just as much, or more since you talk so much, about you. You’re focusing on the unimportant unknowns instead of the all-important already knowns.”

“And if he wants me to marry him? I can’t marry a man without knowing where he lives or where he works!” Megan filled her glass again and took another large sip.

“We’re not talking marriage, Meagan, we’re talking love.”

“They’re the same thing in my book. When you love someone you marry them. Guys don’t seem to want that anymore.”

“Do you want to get married?”

“Of course I do. Someday, when I find the right guy, I want to get married. And have kids. God, I don’t even know if he wants kids! I can’t marry a man who doesn’t want kids.”

“You should have thought of that before you started using this casual fling thing to deal with Bryce’s betrayal.”

“Stop making so much sense, Alicia.” Megan sighed. “What the hell am I supposed to do?”

“Go talk to him. Ask him what he has in mind; find out those all important details you’re so hung up on. And tell him the truth about who you are and what you do. Get it all out in the open and then make up your mind. Are you going to keep in touch with him after these two weeks are over, or not? Because he deserves to know.”

“Fine. I will. But not tonight. I’m still feeling too embarrassed that I actually eavesdropped on his phone call.”

“Yeah, that was a pretty stupid thing to do.”

“You’re not supposed to agree with me on that one.”

Alicia shrugged. “So, what are you going to do for the rest of the evening?”

“Drink to your success and sleep it off on your couch because I’m not going back to face my mother.”

Since eating in his room would only make him think again he went down to the restaurant then across to the bar to watch the game and get suitably drunk.

Unlike his first night in Kingsbridge he didn’t stop at four beers. He skipped right over the beers and ordered scotch, the full bottle, and a glass with no ice, and set about trying to forget everything, except maybe his room number.

The scotch went down smooth and soon Tyler was drunk enough that he didn’t mind when the music changed from mellow-background to club mix. He poured himself another and downed it before looking over to see who had filled the stool at his elbow.

“Fancy meeting you here, again,” said the blonde. Her low cut, skin tight outfit was pink today and her lipstick matched. She was smiling big and leaning forward far enough that he didn’t have to strain his neck to see down her dress. “Looks like a lot of scotch for one man.”

“Tell that to my father,” Tyler said. “On the other hand, don’t bother. He’s dead.” He poured another.

“Aw, I’m sorry to hear that.” She rubbed his leg with her foot. “Wanna talk about it?”

“Why? Been dead two years.”

“Wanna talk about why you’re in here alone with a bottle of scotch?”

He stared into her big blue eyes to see sympathy as well as lust. “I’ve had more than enough casual affairs for one vacation,” he said.

“Who said anything about sex?” she rubbed the back of his hand. “Let’s just get drunk together and see where the night takes us.”

He looked at her and then the bottle of scotch. She was right, it was too much scotch for him to finish on his own, at least if he wanted to walk away from the bar on his own. He waved the bar tender over. “Another glass.”

“With ice,” she added. When it arrived Tyler poured and they clinked glasses. “To getting drunk.”

“Amen.”

Morning found Megan asleep on Alicia’s couch with an empty bottle of wine lying on the floor. The painting Alicia had been working on was finished. The sky, which had been giving Alicia so much trouble, was now filled with ominous thunder clouds. Alicia staggered down the hall from her bedroom and into the kitchen.

Megan woke to a cramped neck and the smell of fresh coffee brewing. She came to the kitchen table and sat. “I must look like shit.”

“Only a little,” Alicia said. “You can’t go see him looking like that.”

“I can’t go home looking like this or my mom will assume the worst.”

“You can wash up here but you’re on your own for clothes.”

“The clothes should be fine. I didn’t spill any wine on them.” She took the cup of offered coffee with a grateful smile. “So, in the face of your great success, what’s your next endeavour?”

“Oh, we were so busy getting drunk last night that I didn’t tell you. The owner of the hotel chain that bought my paintings was so pleased with them that he called me, personally, and commissioned a bunch more.”

“Really?” Megan’s eyes were wide.

“That’s not the best part. He’s flying me to one of his hotels on the west coast so I can photograph the ocean and other scenery and do a series of paintings from them.”

“What? All expenses paid?”

“Yeah, well, sort of. As long as I eat at the hotel he’ll pay for it. And it’s only for a weekend. But I’ve always dreamed of seeing the ocean.”

“Alicia, this is fantastic! When do you leave?”

“In a few weeks. Now, go get cleaned up. You’ve got a big day.”

Megan gulped her coffee. “Don’t remind me.”

By the time she got to the hotel it was after nine so she poked her head into the restaurant and let her eyes sweep over the early risers. Tyler was not among them so she went to the desk. A young woman Megan didn’t recognize was sitting there. “Excuse me, Tyler, room 412, he didn’t check out, did he?”

The woman frowned. “I’m sorry, we don’t generally give out that information.”

“I know, my father worked this desk for years. It’s just,” she sighed. “We had a fight yesterday and I don’t want to go up and embarrass myself if he’s left.”

That earned her a sympathetic, almost pitying smile and the woman clicked a few keys on the keyboard. “He’s checked in. Reservation for tonight and tomorrow night yet.”

“Thank-you.” She went up and knocked softly on the door. There was no answer. She stood in the hallway debating whether she should go down and sit in the lobby for an hour or if she should knock louder.
Once more,
she thought and knocked.

She could hear a muffled voice and she leaned against the door. “Where the hell did my pants go?” Tyler muttered. A moment later the door opened a crack.

“Megan.”

“Hi. You told me to come back.”

“I wasn’t expecting you this early.” He wore pants and nothing else and Megan felt her heart begin to beat a little faster.

She licked her lower lip and shrugged. “I can come back later, if you want. I just – I was at a friend’s house last night and she had to get going early this morning and I didn’t want to go home right away.” She sighed. “I’ll come back later.”

“If you walk away I’ll just chase you.”

Now her heart was thundering. “As fun as that sounds I don’t think the other guests would appreciate us tearing up and down the hallway.”

“Up and down? Just how far do you think you’d get?”

Hope filled her eyes. “Not far?”

“Damn right. Get in here so I can show you how much I missed you.”

Once in the room she found herself trapped between him and the door. And he was leaning on the door so there was no way she could open it. “I guess …”

He cut her short with a kiss and it surprised her in its softness. He pulled away slowly and rested his forehead against hers.

“You taste like stale alcohol,” she whispered.

He started to chuckle, slow at first, in the back of his throat, but when she started laughing too he lost all control and soon the two of them were leaned against the door trying to catch their breath. “I missed you.” He pulled all the way away. “Can I go have a shower? I got drunk last night and a shower might stop this ache in my head.”

“Go ahead. I’ll wait. Should I order you some breakfast.”

He grimaced.

“Bad idea?”

“Very bad. I’ll be quick.”

As soon as he was gone she picked up the phone and ordered a large stack of toast. By the time he had showered, shaved, and brushed his teeth it was waiting on the dresser for him. He stared at the toast and then at her.

She shrugged. “So I don’t listen very well. I’ll help you eat it.”

“It’s a deal, even without the bathrobes.”

“Listen, Tyler, I’m really sorry about yesterday.”

“It’s fine. I replayed the whole thing over in my mind and it sounded pretty bad.”

She finished her toast. “It’s funny that you went out and got drunk last night since that’s basically what I did.”

“We should have gotten drunk together. Might have been safer.”

“I was at a friend’s house, the one who paints, we were celebrating her success.”

“I was alone in the bar trying to convince that same busty blonde that while I might be willing to share a bottle of scotch with her, I was not willing to share my bed with her. She took a lot of convincing.”

“Did no one come rescue you?”

“The only other people I saw in the bar were her friends and they were too busy doing whatever it is the barely legal crowd does these days to care that their friend wouldn’t take a hint.”

“How did you get away?”

“I went to the bathroom. When I came out she was over giggling with a friend so I slipped out. I left her at least four glasses of scotch, too.” He shrugged. “If that was the cost of freedom, I got off cheap.”

“You could have just slept with her.”

“Nice try Megan, I’m not walking into that one.” He took her hand in his. “I know I said I wouldn’t do this, but I do love you, Megan.”

“Tyler, we don’t know each other very well yet.”

“Ask away,” he said without thinking.

“Fine, you work for a hotel, right?”

“A chain of hotels, but yes.”

“Doing what, exactly.”

He hesitated. “This and that.” He shrugged. “It’s corporate America; you do as you’re told.”

“Tyler, that’s not really an answer.”

He sighed. “Fine. Every woman I’ve ever dated found my stories and anecdotes about my job boring so I don’t like to talk about what I do.”

“My father worked for this hotel for decades and he ‘bored’ us every day with stories about his work.”

“Fine, let’s just say that I do boring things for a boring hotel and one day I will sit and bore you with all my boring stories.”

She laughed. “All right, point taken. Which hotel?”

“Oh. The Mathers Hotels and Resorts chain.”

“Wow, those are nice hotels.”

“Yeah, they’re pretty impressive. What about you? What do you do?”

“I work in television,” she said. “On a children’s show.”

“That must be interesting.”

She shrugged. “It’s not unlike corporate America. I do as I’m told. What was your worst date?”

“Oh, I had this one woman break up with me because I refused to take her shopping. She threw a huge fit in the middle of a classy restaurant. I still can’t go back there. What about you?”

“I am not talking about that.”

“You asked.”

Defeated she said, “Fine, let’s just say that some men are hounds and that I’ll never accept blind date suggestions from that friend again.”