Chapter 7

• Megan couldn’t really concentrate again and immediately the bell rang again, Megan nodded at the host in farewell and made her way out the door. She didn’t look over her shoulder, her guilt about skipping out on the carefully organized event overridden by the possibility of facing her half-brother.
• Coat check seemed to take an eternity, with the young attendant repeatedly misreading her ticket before finally locating her coat in the sea of black pea coats and trenches. Megan resisted the urge to snap at him, as she heard fast approaching footsteps behind her.
• “You’re not even going to say good-bye to me?” Oliver’s voice sounded behind her.
• “Save it, Oliver,” Megan replied tersely, turning to face him. “You just want to create drama by forcing me into some sorry reunion with my brother.”
• Oliver scoffed, a playful glint in his eye. “Why would I want to do that?”
• “I don’t know, maybe you’re an asshole,” Megan retorted, her frustration evident.
• “There’s no maybe about that, baby. I am an asshole,” Oliver admitted with a smirk. “But that doesn’t mean I wasn’t just trying to find an excuse to hang out with you a little longer.”
• The coat ’ttendant presented Megan’s coat with a bright smile, clearly pleased that he had finally located it in the messy pile. “Thank you,” Megan said, shoving a tip at him before quickly putting on her coat.
• She turned to leave, leaving Oliver standing there with his ticket in hand. “Can you at least wait for me?” he called after her.
• “Why? I don’t know what you hope to accomplish by spending time with me, but…” Megan trailed off, her frustration still simmering.
• Oliver held up his hands in mock surrender, and the coat attendant snatched the little white paper from his hand. “We were getting along fine, and now you think I have ulterior motives?”
• Megan faltered, swallowing thickly as she shoved the big black buttons of her coat into their corresponding slots. “Look Oliver, I’m sorry, but I’m not good company right now. That whole thing,” she nodded towards the door leading to the speed dating event, “I just can’t deal with any of it right now.”
• “Okay, I get it,” Oliver said, his tone understanding.
• “No, you don’t,” Megan replied, her frustration evident.
• “Yes, I do. I understand. Trust me.” Oliver cast an impatient look through the coat check window. “Kid, can you hurry up?”
• Megan snapped at him, “Don’t take it out on him. He’s probably making shit for money as it is.”
• “Okay, Mrs. High and Mighty. I wouldn’t be in such a goddamn rush if I didn’t suspect you’re going to make me go all follow that cab once you storm out of here!” Oliver retorted, his irritation apparent.
• Megan couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation. Her voice was too loud in the quiet lobby, but she couldn’t stop. Even the coat check boy snickered.
• “So can you please, please, wait for me so we can take a cab together and get out of here?” Oliver pleaded.
• “Oliver…” Megan started to refuse, but he was already retrieving his coat and moving closer to her. His encouraging smile and deep blue eyes were hard to resist.
• “Come on. We can get a drink. On me,” Oliver insisted.
• “Oliver, I’m tired. I’ve had enough for one night,” Megan protested.
• “We can go somewhere near you,” he suggested. “Or between your neighborhood and mine.”
• Megan’s desire to go to another bar was nil, but as Oliver slid his arm through hers and guided her to the door, she couldn’t bring herself to say no.
• *****
• It didn’t fit what Megan had come to equate with Oliver. It wasn’t sophisticated. There was no sex appeal. It was the kind of slightly cheesy Irish pub that Emily would have rocked up to on a Friday night after hitting two other places first. The kind of place David wouldn’t have even bothered to take her to because he’d have known better. It’s possible Oliver knew better and that he just didn’t care about her snobby sensibilities.
• Megan liked that.
• Oliver waved at the bartender and jerked his head at a table at the far end of the room. “Two Mad Elves if you’ve got any left.”
• “I got ‘em, bud. Tap or bottle?”
• “You know I love those bottles.”
• “You got it, Oliver.”
• Megan followed Oliver to one of the high tables in the corner. The place was practically empty except for two couples sitting at the bar, but it easily had capacity for a couple of hundred people. Judging from the two roped-off staircases on either side of the room, there was a lower level that could hold even more.
• “I come here a lot,” Oliver said as he sat on one of the stools and patted the one next to her. “It’s a few steps above a dive bar, but the staff is nice, they make strong drinks, and there’s generally a good crowd dancing downstairs on the weekend.”
• “Is this a… Irish pub?” Megan asked.
• "No.”
• “I see.” Megan shrugged off her jacket and sat next to Oliver. They were so close that their legs brushed beneath the table. She tried very hard to act normal when he rested a hand on her thigh. “What, may I ask, is a Mad Elf?”
• “Only one of the best beers of the season,” Oliver said, rubbing Megan’s thigh, squeezing, and pulling away. “There’s over 10 percent alcohol per bottle. And sorry if you prefer tap, but I don’t have faith in the cleanliness of bars and their equipment. I’ve seen reality shows about this shit. I know things.”
• Megan leaned against the wall and tilted her head against it. “You’re prissier than I expected.”
• “What did you expect? We didn’t interact much when you were with David.”
• “I’m not sure. You were pretty mysterious, and you never had much interest in talking to me.”
• “That’s not true at all.” Oliver drummed his fingers against the table. “I’d noticed you were obviously going out of your way to attend gatherings just to please him, but he’d wander off after you guys arrived. It wasn’t my business, though, so I didn’t approach you.”
• “Until New Year’s Eve.”
• “Yes. I was shocked that you’d come by yourself. It intrigued me. Also, we were the only two single people at the fucking party. I’d planned on kissing you from the moment I saw you looking brooding and sexy by the window.” Oliver said.
• Megan wanted to know how she had intrigued him, but asking seemed too much like fishing for compliments.
• “Getting back to your original question—I pegged you for the bad boy type. Reckless and potentially spoiled with a life full of adventures and hot sex,” Megan said.
• Oliver grinned.
• “Well, you’re not totally off the mark. I’m a computer nerd who enjoys sex and traveling,” he replied.
• Megan admitted, “I noticed after skimming through your Instagram. I liked your pictures of Fiji.” She also liked that he hadn’t been in most of them. Instead of only an array of selfies, he’d posted a ton of gorgeous landscape shots.
• “Looking into me?” Oliver asked.
• “A little,” Megan replied. “You’re not the only one who’s intrigued.”
• Oliver’s grin widened. “I’m flattered despite you thinking I’m prissy. Although, I saw the way you turned up your nose as soon as we approached the door, so you might have a bit of priss in you as well.”
• “It’s just not my scene.”
• “Well, your scene hasn’t worked out for you so well, sweetheart.”
• “Thank you very much for that reminder.”
• The bartender put two bottles in front of them, flashed Oliver a knowing grin, and walked off without a word. Megan didn’t want to overanalyze what the exchanged look meant, so she picked up the bottle. The label had a literal dancing elf on it. She smiled wanly and took a sip.
• “Verdict?” Oliver asked.
• Megan swallowed, licked her lips, and took another sip. There were hints of citrus and spices that she couldn’t place, but the combination was pleasant.
• “Surprisingly sweet and delicious.”
• “I knew you would like it.”
• Oliver tilted the neck of his own bottle back and watched Megan as he gulped. She waited for him to begin grilling her about Aiden or her abrupt departure from the speed-dating event, but he didn’t.
• He stayed quiet as they drank, ordered two more beers when they were done with the first, and began rubbing Megan’s shoulder once the alcohol roared through her bloodstream and her posture sagged.
• It was tempting for Megan to look around to ensure no one was witnessing his very public displays of affection, but she didn’t. His fingers kneading the knots in her shoulders and the back of her neck felt good. With enough time, the right oil, and her stretched out naked beneath him, Oliver’s massage technique would probably turn her into a boneless puddle.
• “How do you know I like to be massaged?” Megan asked.
• “David mentioned it once. He said it was the only thing that unwinds you.”
• “Ah.”
• “I told him he must not be fucking you good enough if you don’t unwind after sex.”