C6 The ONE

Five minutes later I was sipping on my coffee with milk — not cream — and heading to the luggage carousel. After riding an escalator up, I waited by the carousel and sipped my coffee. Soon I was pulling off my large black suitcase with the turtle strap. I rolled it to the side, and went to grab my carry-on that I’d left by the carousel.

Heaven forbid I set my coffee down.

After retrieving the carry-on, I half dragged it toward my other suitcase.

Just as a lady stopped beside it, pulled up the handle… and walked away with it.

“Wait!” I called, now fully dragging my carry on behind me as I rushed after the silver-haired woman. ”That’s mine!” I shouted, she turned, frowned at me, and gave me the finger.

“Why you—” The rogue wheel of my carry-on hit a hole in the tile, causing the bag to rock wildly, twisting the handle and causing me to stumble. Coffee sloshed from my cup as the lid popped off and landed beside my now soaked, once white, Teds.

“Shit.” I stomped.

I glanced up, blowing my bangs out of my face just in time to see a dark-haired man approach the woman who had stolen my suitcase. They were too far away for me to hear their words. But he pointed to me then lifted the nametag towards her.

The woman gestured wildly, but stalked off, leaving him with the suitcase.

I waited. Did he think it was his too? Or had he seen the whole thing and actually helped me out?

He pulled the handle up and started toward me. Several people walked in front of him, and I couldn’t see his face. I craned my neck, but others kept walking and blocking my view. As he came closer, I caught a glimpse that made my heart stutter to an almost halt.

He seemed familiar, but that could be because he looked like a stunt double for Gerard Butler. Strong shoulders flexed through his white shirt. Blue eyes met mine. Dark chestnut hair curled slightly, matching the week’s growth of a beard that accented a strong jawline.

Hello, Scotland.

My trip just improved one hundred percent.

Yet as he got closer… something seemed even more familiar. I couldn’t put my finger on it… but it was almost as distracting as the grin he flashed me as he approached.

“I believe this is yours,” he spoke in a thick brogue.

My knees turned to butter… and he was a raging fire. Needless to say, I was melting more and more with every moment he trained those baby blues on me.

“Th-thank you.” I accepted the handle.

“Ah, American, eh?” he asked. “You wouldn’t be Roxi’s friend?” He tucked his hands in his pockets.

“Roxi?” I asked, and for the first time since starting this whole forsaken idea with her… I was actually thanking her. I mean, God bless my best friend. God bless Scotland, God bless EVERYONE. “Actually yeah. I’m Roxi’s business associate, Meredith.” I held out a hand, thankful I had not abandoned the standards and fixed my makeup.

He froze.

“Meredith?” he asked, his tone almost alarmed. He glanced to the suitcase and back to me, as if putting the name with the face.

“Yeah… Meredith Blane.”

“You’ve gotta be shitting me.” He took a step back. “I’m going to kill her.” He ran his hand through his hair, tousling it more.

“I’m sorry, but have we met?” I asked, my own hackles rising. I mean, what was wrong with me?

“Oh, yeah. We’ve met.” He turned to me and shook his head. “Bloody hell this is a disaster. Merry, your friend just signed you over to the devil.”

“In a foreign country with Satan… awesome. Can you please just tell me what’s going on?

He shook his head, let out a long sigh, and grabbed the handle of my suitcase. “My stepsister is going to owe me a debt so large she’ll never pay it off.”

“Stepsister?” I stopped, my head spinning.

No.

No, No, No! Roxi wouldn’t do that to me.

She’d promised — okay, maybe we were in eighth grade when she promised, but still…

“Kirby?” I watched as he paused, the muscles in his shoulders tensed, and he turned and looked over his shoulder.

“No one, and I mean no one calls me that anymore.”

“No way,” I whispered. There was no way that… Kirby… Roxi’s stepbrother from her mother’s marriage number three was the Greek god in front of me.

“If I had known that, then I wouldn’t have—”

“Yeah, I bet that right now you’re putting a few things together in that pretty little head of yours.” He jerked the handle of the suitcase and started toward the parking lot.

“A few,” I retorted, staring at his back as my carry-on wobbled behind me.

“For the record. No. I haven’t forgiven you,” he spoke with an exasperated tone.

And there was nothing like being with someone from your junior high years that made you revert back to your immaturity.

“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t take it back even if I could.”

He stopped so abruptly I almost ran into his back.

His solid, warm back.

I had to stop this! It was Kirby for heaven’s sakes! The guy Roxi and I had pranked… well it was a bit more than a prank.