C7 The ONE

“Some people never change. You were petty and immature then… I can see you haven’t changed at all.” His eyes lowered to take in the outline of my body. And holy crap if I didn’t feel his gaze like a searing touch to my skin. “Nope. Nothing has changed.” He shrugged dismissively.

“Hey! That’s unfair.”

“Calling it like I see it. Victoria’s Secret can only do so much—”

“So can socks!” I shouted.

He stopped again. “Hmm… I guess the tables have turned. I don’t need any help in that department… and it looks like you can’t find enough help.” He yanked the handle and crossed the street, weaving around a bus and darting up the curb.

“Wait!” I called out as another bus passed me. His retreating back made me fume as I glanced to the cars approaching and rushed across the street, wincing as the horns honked. I ran as fast as my stupid bag would let me and caught up.

“I think we got started on the wrong foot,” I offered, panting and out of breath. Damn. Yoga wasn’t exactly cardio.

“No. I saved your luggage. As I see it, you owe me,” he replied, his brogue totally distracting me.

That and his eyes.

Shit, I had to get it through my head that this was Kirby.

Nemesis.

Bane of my existence.

The very reason I celebrated October fifteenth—the day he left for Scotland to live with his mom!

“Fine. I owe you. I’m big enough to admit that. What do I owe you?” I did air quotes with two fingers of my one hand as the rest were wrapped tightly around what was left of my topless coffee cup.

“I can’t think of anything I’d want from you, so it’s an IOU right now.” He shook his head as he approached a car in the airport garage. It was a black Mercedes SUV.

“Nice.”

“Unlike you.” He opened the trunk and effortlessly lifted my suitcase in. Pulling the carry-on handle from my hand, he all but tossed that into the back as well. “Wheel broke? That’s what you get for buying shit luggage.”

“Missed that,” I answered, heavy on the sarcasm.

“Get in.” He went to the left side of the car and opened the door. Naturally, I went to the right. “Like hell am I letting you drive my car, Merry.”

“Merry? Really? Are we twelve?” I asked. I hated that nickname! Which of course, he knew all too well. I glanced to the car and felt humiliation wash over me. Yeah, it was Europe. I wasn’t on the passenger side; I was on the driver side.

“Sorry,” I mumbled and walked around and paused. Kirby was holding the door open for me. “Are you being nice or will you try to shut it on my foot?” I asked, my eyes narrowing.

“Just because you’re American doesn’t mean I have to act like I am too.” He gestured impatiently to the open door.

Sliding in, I whispered, ”Thanks.”

But just to be careful, I tucked my foot in quickly.

He settled into the driver seat and started the SUV. The engine thrummed with power as he whipped out of the parking spot and accelerated through the garage.

“Uh, in a race, NASCAR?” I asked, holding on the seat.

“Impatient to be rid of you? Yes.” He pulled up to the meter and paid the fare.

“Lovely.”

He pulled onto the road and I relaxed slightly. “So why did you even agree to this? I mean, last I knew, you and Roxi weren’t even actually related or acknowledging one another.”

“Yeah, well that changed last Christmas when my dad re-married her mom.”

“Again?”

“Yeah. History repeats itself and all that.”

“So, you’re her stepbrother again.”

“Yeah. Lucky me. Which in and of itself isn’t enough of a reason for me to do her any sort of favor, but let’s just say that I always pay my debts, and this is the last one I owed her.”

“For what?”

A scowl creased his forehead. “What is this? The Spanish inquisition? I’m sure as hell not telling you. Roxi isn’t as bad as she was years ago. It’s been good to have her as family again. My dad’s matured a bit more, and I think Miranda is in a better place too.”

“Miranda…” I shook my head. Roxi’s mom was both a wonder and a terror. “She could never quite get over your dad. Loved that brogue.” I shook my head as I smiled.

“Yeah. I think they’re happy. For the moment.” He shrugged, and the scowl eased from his expression. “So how did you get roped into this?”

“I... don’t know. Which is the usual answer for when Roxi involves me with anything.”

“Yeah. I get that.”

We rode in silence for a few minutes. But that silence was eating at my already shot nerves. “So what have you been up to? What do you do now?”

“I own a few businesses, pubs mostly. It works for me.”

“And I’ve gotta ask, since Roxi is involved and all, you do actually know she expects me to… uh, date you… right?”

“Yeah.” He gripped the steering wheel making the leather squeak slightly.

“Yeah,” I echoed. “This is not going to work. I’ll skew the results because I’m emotionally involved—”

“Emotionally involved? It’s the brogue, lass.” He wagged his eyebrows at me. “That and my tight arse.”

“Emotionally involved as in I have a predisposition to dislike you… strongly,” I corrected, narrowing my eyes.

“Yer loss.” He accented the words so thickly I almost missed them.

“I’ll have her re-arrange the schedule so that I meet the millionaire guy first. That will give her time to find a suitable replacement.”

“Listen to you… all professional and using big words. I’m not surprised. You always had the brains of the two of you.”

“Meaning that Roxi has the beauty? Yeah. That’s true,” I admitted with a soft sigh.

“In some ways, yeah… but Roxi is the driven, eat you alive or thrive type. You’ve always been a bit more perceptive.”

“Was… that a compliment?” I asked, slightly shocked.

“Don’t let it get to your head.”

“I’ll try... so much praise is making my ego inflate.”

“I’ll be sure to take you down a notch or two.”

“Lucky me.”

I pulled out my phone and sent off an e-mail to Roxi, telling her about the change in plans. A few seconds later, I got a text with a phone number.

No apologies.

Nothing.

“If she wasn’t my best friend I’d…” I huffed out a breath, trying to think of something.

“You never were the cutthroat one.” He chuckled. “Of that we have something in common.”

“No apology, no ‘hey guys sorry I totally blindsided you.’ Nada.” I whistled.

“Typical.”