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She’d heard terrific music, had vivid, crazy dreams, and great sex…and she was not going back to the cottage until the music stopped…despite having bare feet and no money. Looking around, she grinned…she fit right in with the hippie crowd.

Chapter Thirteen

David cursed as he shoved through the group of people blocking the entrance to the large tent Holly had hired for them behind the stage. Finally, with much elbowing and muttering, he got past the crowd and entered the dim space. The sweet smell of dope met him and he frowned. Bear was sitting on a camp chair and Slim was asleep on the ground behind him.

“Did you bring my guitar down off stage?”

Bear inclined his head to the back of the tent. David walked over and reached for his guitar, which was resting on his kit bag.

“Thanks. Where’s Holly?” He frowned at Bear and gestured to the joint between the drummer’s fingers. “You know how I feel about that when we’re performing.”

Bear pointed to the corner of the tent. Holly was curled up on a blanket with her eyes closed. “Don’t worry. Chill out, she’s fine.”

David put his guitar to one side and dug in his bag for a clean black T-shirt. “I’m taking Megan home.”

“I thought you already had. Couldn’t you find her? You’ve been gone for hours.”

David pulled the shirt over his head. He was already regretting what had happened now that he was away from her. He turned away and spoke gruffly. “Yeah, took a while to find her.”

Bear put the joint up to his mouth and inhaled deeply.

“Get rid of that. We’re back on stage in a couple of hours.” David lifted up the flap of the tent. “And look after Holly.”

“Who put you in charge, man?” Bear waved the glowing tip at him.

“No one. But after what happened to our last publicist, someone here has to be smart or everything will go to shit. You want to make some money or what?”

“All right, all right.” Bear pushed the joint into the ground. “I need to get some sleep, anyway, if we’re doing a few sets later.”

“I’ll be back well before the first one. We can’t stuff this up. There’s too much riding on this festival. We’ve got to make up for what that fucking journalist wrote. I’ve a good mind to sue the paper.”

Slim sat up and rubbed his eyes. “I’ll watch out for Holly. Don’t worry she’s not into the hard stuff. Just a bit of weed. You go and do whatever it is you have to do.” The tall, lanky guitarist pushed himself up from the ground in one lithe movement and followed David out of the tent. “So it was her?”

David nodded and stared across the field in the direction of their two cottages. “It was. I don’t know how the hell she did it, but I have to get her back before she realises and freaks out.”

“Or before you lose her,” Slim said.

“I can’t afford to lose her. Who knows where she’d end up? I shouldn’t have left her but she fell asleep.” David knew he’d said too much already, and he grabbed Slim’s shoulder. “Thanks, mate. I know I can rely on you.” He gave him a wave and headed back along the towpath to the river.

His first priority was to get Megan back through the time gate and convince her she’d been at the current Glastonbury Festival and she had dreamed the rest…or something.

Including the hot sex. That had been one huge mistake.

I shouldn’t have touched her. But I couldn’t help myself.

His chest was heavy with regret. It was easy to be sorry after the event. He’d sworn he would never get involved with a woman again.

He didn’t do relationships, period. The way he lived his life, it was too hard.

Casual sex, yes. Heavy emotional stuff, no. But a connection had been forged between them the minute he’d tripped over her. It wasn’t just her beauty that attracted him. Her face was transparent and she carried a sadness that tugged at his heart. A familiar feeling of wanting to protect overwhelmed him and he swore softly.

Christ, will I never learn?

Especially not with someone who was living next door to him, for fuck’s sake. Someone who obviously had problems of her own. And someone who’d followed him through the stones. He rubbed his hand across his jaw, the stubble grazing his fingertips. He had to try to get her back to the cottage without her realising what had happened, and then he would cut all contact with her.

Once he’d gotten her back safely through the time gate, he’d come back here and stay here until the festival was over, and she went back to Australia. He knew it was the coward’s way out, but there was no way he was putting himself in temptation’s way again.

He groaned. He’d had no control over his response once she’d put her hands on him. For a moment he was tempted to leave, forget the festival, and go back to his island.