Around the World in 80 Men Series: Books 11-20 (109 page)

*****

“A
burger, with bacon... and cheese.. and fries. Oh! Can I get some
pie too? I don't care what kind.” Morgan handed her menu over
to the bartender, then took a sip of her wine. She had no idea what
kind it was, and she didn't care for it much at all, but it was all
they had in the sweeter wine category. “Still beats whiskey.”
She shook her head at the reminder of what her bottle held up in her
room, and took another sip of her glass.

“Hey!
Did I ask for.... pie?” She watched the man nod, then smile.
“Flirt.” Morgan giggled at the young man who definitely
was not flirting, and saying that he was had made her laugh even
more. “Of course you're not flirting, you probably like the
tall... stringy... boney.... ice cold type...right?” He was
already out of ear shot when she asked, but the drunk Morgan assumed
that she was correct.

Getting
drunk to forget her feelings about a lying Scot was easier said than
done. The getting drunk part was simple enough, but forgetting, that
was another story. She needed a little help with that part, and she
knew just the person who could do it. Morgan pulled her phone from
her pocket, and tapped Angel's handsome face.

“Angel!”
All heads turned in her direction when she yelled into the phone.
She put her hand over her mouth, and tried her indoor voice. “It's
not working. I'm drunk, but he's still...,” she put her palm
to her forehead, “in my freaking head. I wish you were here”
She leaned forward, and dropped her head to the bar, resting her
forehead against the cool surface of the counter.

“Boo...
you just need to go to bed. You can think about Braveheart in the
AM!” Morgan laughed into the smooth wood, and told him that
Braveheart would still be there when she woke up, so she needed to
forget about him right then. She also mentioned that it was only six
o'clock, so going to bed right then wasn't an option. The whiskey
that still coursed through her body would beg to differ. “Sticky,
I have to take G Puff to the airport, but I'll call ya when I drop
his heinous off.” Morgan giggled into the bar.

“Highness,
Angel. His Highness.”

“No
baby, he's heinous. Kisses and shit, I gotta go.”

Angel
hung up and left Morgan to her thoughts once again. “Well, that
was of noooo help.” She looked to a man sitting a few seats
down from her, “all he did was tell me to go to bed!”
The
man quickly looked away, hoping to avoid conversing with the loud
girl, but she wasn't going to be ignored. She got up from her chair
and sat right next to him. “Maybe,” she traced a circle
on the bar in front of her with her finger, “you can...ah,
fuck. Never mind. Nobody is going to help me forget about him!”

She
thought she might be able to seduce the stranger, take him back to
her room and he could help her forget about Finlay, but then the last
bit of common sense reared its head and she realized that was a very
bad idea. Morgan got up from that chair and went back to the one she
was originally sitting in and took a large gulp of her wine. “I'm
so hungry.” Her forehead went back to the surface of the bar,
then she raised it again when she realized she really would fall
asleep if she kept her head there any longer.

“Holy
shit, that looks good!” A few minutes later, her food arrived.
The burger, just how she'd wanted it, and a piece of “any kind”
of pie, which turned out to be cherry.

“Aye,
it's good,” the bartender told her, then disappeared again
behind the double doors.

“Why
doesn't anyone want to talk to me?” Morgan huffed loudly, then
pulled her plates closer. She was even more hungry than she thought
as she scarfed down the burger in record time, which seemed to be a
thing she did when she was drunk. Or it involved amazing muffins.
Either way, her burger and pie were gone in a matter of minutes.
“Can...I get that bottle?” she asked, pointing to the
wine she'd been drinking. Thankfully, it was a different man than the
one she'd purchased the whiskey from earlier, so she didn't have to
be questioned again. “Thank you....flirt.” She flashed
the man a large smile, then took her bottle and began the journey
back up to the room.

“Okay,
steps, work with me here.” Her voice echoed in the small
hallway as she tried to catch her balance on the stairs. Instead of
continuing onward through, she stopped on the floor between one and
two and sat down with her bottle. “Bottoms up, bitch!”
She toasted herself, then lifted it in the air, drinking it right
from the bottle. A few drinks later, she was ready to tackle the rest
of the steps. “Up,” she told her right leg, holding onto
the wall for support. “I can do this.” Her determination
turned into a fit of giggles which delayed the process of getting to
her room even longer. “It's just steps!”

A
few more steps up, a few more giggles and she finally made it to her
floor. “Now, what room...” She began walking down the
left side,then turned around, remembering her room was the other way.
At least she thought so. “Two-eighteen...?” Morgan
stopped in front of one of the rooms. “I think...” her
hand reached into her back pocket, but her key wasn't there. “Shit!”
She tried her other pocket, then the first one again. “Key,
where are you?” Again, she tried both pockets. As if it would
help her current situation, she lifted the bottle of wine again and
took another large gulp. “Shit, shit, shit.”

She
set the bottle in front of her door, then slowly made her way back to
the stairwell, staggering the whole way. “Hey!” Morgan
waved down the same cleaning woman who she'd talked to earlier. “Have
you...uhm...my key? Did you see it?” She rubbed her back
pockets again, hoping that time, she'd find it. The woman smiled,
then shook her head, but told her she could do down to the front desk
for another one.

“Okay,
guess I'll do that...” Morgan sighed, then pushed open the
stairwell door. “Where are you. Here, key. Come on.”

“Ye
looking fer this?” That voice, it couldn't be. Oh, it most
certainly was. The big Scot, the only Scot in all of Scotland that
she didn't want to talk to turned the corner of the stairwell,
holding her key between his fingers.

“I'd
rather get a new one!” She quickly raced down the steps, nearly
falling when her feet hit the landing. She gathered herself,
straightened out her see-through sweater and without making eye
contact with Finlay, she started on the stairs toward the first
floor. After two steps though, she turned around and went back to
the landing. “No, actually, I'll take
that
,”
she reached for her key, but he pulled it away. Morgan stomped her
foot, then crossed her arms in front of her. “Give me my key.”

“Listen
ta me, lass,” Finlay held the key high above his head so she
couldn't reach it.

“You
know what, Finny-Fin, neverfuckinmind!” She turned again, not
wanting to fight with the man for something that was hers to begin
with, but Finlay wasn't letting her off the hook that easy. He
reached her before she could take one step down the stairs and
wrapped his large arm around her waist, then lifted her right off the
ground. “You....put me down Finlay Campbell! Right now!”

“No,
you're going ta listen to me first.” He carried her with ease
right back up to the second floor, despite her flailing. When he got
to her room, which wasn't the one with the bottle of wine in front of
it, he slid her key in the lock, still holding her over his shoulder.
Once he had the room unlocked, he kicked it open with his boot,
walked in, kicked the door back shut, then carried Morgan to the bed
and flipped her to her back onto the springy mattress.

“I
don't want to hear a thing you're saying!” Morgan laid her head
down on the bed, then brought the pillow around her ears, hoping to
drown out any excuses the man had to give her.

Finlay
started a pot of coffee, and went to the bathroom to start a warm
bath. He needed her a little more sober if he expected her to
understand him, and remember. “Bloody hell, where's the
fookin' bubbles she likes?” He spoke to the empty bathroom
then was interrupted by a loud thump. He ran into the main room and
looked at the bed, and his drunk companion wasn't there. “Morgan!”
He ran to the side of the bed and found her curled into a tight
ball, her face completely covered by her hair. “Are ye
alright?” The big Scot lifted her back on the bed, then
laughed when she nodded and took a lazy swing at his arm.

“What
do you care... you have... that... that... Bob n'skank at your
house.” She rolled to her side, and closed her eyes.

“Get
up with ye, I need to get yer clothes off.” Morgan laughed and
brought her hands up to her neck, then gripped her sweater with all
of her might.

“Oh
no, those days are over. Go take Skeletor's clothes off.” She
swatted his hand away, and he thought about undressing her anyway,
but he didn't want her anymore upset than she already was. He stood
straight again, and smiled down at her.

“Awrite
then, there's a bath waiting for ye. Go relax, and we'll talk when
yer done, aye?” Morgan shook her head at first, but her drunk
side wanted to soak in a tub, and her sensible side wanted to be
anywhere that Finlay wasn't. It took several moments, but she
finally agreed.

“Fine.
But I want you to leave.” Finlay nodded as she walked to the
bathroom. Morgan shut the bathroom door, and he walked quietly in
that direction and listened for her to get in. He had to stop
himself from laughing out loud when he heard her swearing at her own
clothes, but was happy to hear the water splash slightly, and a moan
of relief from her.

Finlay
took his phone out again, and sent a quick message to Burke. He
waited two minutes, then opened the door quietly to let his caretaker
into the room. Very quietly, he told the man what he wanted. “Take
her things to the car, then get yourself some dinner if ye want.
We'll be doon in twenty minutes.” Burke nodded, and started to
zip the zebra print bag before Finlay stopped him. He needed an
outfit for the drunkard, so he grabbed a tee shirt that was on top,
and pink sweats from the side. He didn't bother with underclothes,
but he did grab her tennis shoes. When he was done, Burke grabbed
all that he could, which was only two bags, and left. Finlay
gathered the rest of her things, and handed them off to Burke when he
returned.

Finlay
checked the room one last time for anything that had been unpacked,
but he'd gathered everything. He stood outside the bathroom door,
and took a deep breath, then opened it.

“Ah,
lass.” Morgan had curled up on her side, in the tub, and had
fallen asleep. That wasn't exactly what he'd expected, but awake or
not, he was taking her home

Chapter
Three

Morgan
barely stirred when Finlay lifted her from the water. She
instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck while he carried her
to the bed, and tried to get under the blanket while the man walked a
few feet away to get her clothes. He didn't take the time to dry her
off, so the struggle to put her clothes on, while lying down, with
wet skin, had him nearly out of breath before he was done. Not to
mention, seeing her wet naked body on the bed, he'd used up just
about all of his self control before taking a deep breath and
slipping her feet into her white sneakers.

He
picked her up again, and started for the door when he realized what
shirt he'd actually put on her. It was one of two tee shirts that
she and Angel had bought together. As a joke, she made a shirt for
him that read, 'Sticky's Bitch.' He, in return, had one made for her
that read, 'I fuck for money.' It would have been a little over the
top, but not coming from her best friend. They wore their shirts
that night, and laughed at one another for hours.

Finlay
knew exactly who had bought the shirt for her, and he shook his head
as he maneuvered out of his suit jacket, then draped it over her.
Her coat was something else that he'd forgotten to grab out of her
bags.

He
carried her, and the clothes that she'd taken off in the bathroom,
down to the warm car awaiting them. Burke helped them in, then
smiled as the Campbell pulled her close and tucked his jacket around
her body. He was happy to see his boss with the sweet girl again,
and even more happy that the witch back at the house was in for quite
a surprise. He also smiled at her medusa curls that had taken on a
life of their own, springing out in every direction as she nuzzled
into Finlay's chest.