My Oktoberfest Escapade

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  My Oktoberfest Escapade

  Also by Jewel Quinlan

  DEDICATION

  My Oktoberfest Escapade

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of a copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by fines and federal imprisonment.

  Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in, or encourage, the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  My Oktoberfest Escapade

  Copyright © 2019 by Jewel Quinlan

  Cover art by Dar Albert, Wicked Smart Designs

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work, in whole or in part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Jewel Quinlan http://jewelquinlan.com

  Also by Jewel Quinlan

  Rock Star Ex

  Stealing Cupid’s Bow

  Surrender Sweet Succubus

  Extreme Heat

  Eternal Oath

  She’s Got It All

  The Cougar Journals Series

  Man Candy

  Boy Toy

  Holiday Hottie

  When Cougar Dates Manwhore

  Electric Desert Nights Series

  Entranced

  Kandi

  The Drop

  Reverie Resort Vacation Series

  What I Would Give to See You Again

  Genie’s Awakening

  DEDICATION

  For Germany, my happy place. Thanks for all the good times.

  My Oktoberfest Escapade

  By

  Jewel Quinlan

  Chapter One

  “Oh my God, he’s going to be hurting tomorrow.” Dana stared wide-eyed at one of the Italians at our table and tucked a cluster of her glossy dark curls behind one ear.

  The guy was chugging his third mug of beer in the last ten minutes and, instead of stopping him, his friends chanted and goaded him on. Another of their crew had already passed out. That guy was propped upright against the back of the bench. But his head lolled to the side, and drool dripped from his parted lips.

  I shook my head at the spectacle. “They’re absolutely crazy.”

  Dana and I had scraped together money we’d earned at our part-time jobs over the course of our sophomore and now junior years in college, and we’d been looking forward to this trip for a while. It was the first time either of us had been to Europe. And Oktoberfest turned out to be even better than we’d imagined. This was our second day at the festival, and today we were drinking beer in the Augustiner tent.

  Upon arrival, we’d discovered that inside the beer tents you had to be sitting at one of the long picnic-style tables in order to be served. Unlike in the US, the tables were not exclusively yours. If there were open seats, they were filled with people whether you knew them or not. Yesterday we’d sat with a variety of people over the course of the day. And, like the people around us, we’d stood on the bench at our table singing along to the songs the brass band played. The men in today’s band were dressed, as usual, in lederhosen and their female singer wore a dirndl, the traditional clothing of Bavaria from a time long past. They played on a raised platform in the center, the rich sounds and tempo of the tuba, trumpet, accordion, guitar, and flute combining to create a lively rustic atmosphere.

  Aside from Germans, there had been Scandinavians, Brits, Spaniards, Irish, Scots, and more. Most of whom had either been fluent or spoke a better-than-basic level of English, in addition to their native tongue. I felt kind of dumb now for only knowing one language. Why hadn’t I continued with French after high school? Regardless, it was tons of fun talking to them, hearing their accents, and having my eyes opened to their perspectives on the world. Being here brought to mind the German exchange student I’d had a crush on in high school, and I wondered what he was up to now.

  The Italians we sat with now didn’t speak a single word of English. But, true to the stereotypes about their nationality, they were good with hand gestures.

  “Do you think that guy’s going to be okay?” I glanced again at the one who had passed out. He twitched unnaturally as if in response to a dream.

  Dana’s soulful dark brown eyes filled with concern. “I wonder if he needs to go to the hospital.”

  I agreed with her, then felt bad for not being the one to summon help for him. But if his friends weren’t concerned, why should I be? Didn’t they carry more responsibility for his welfare than I did? I don’t even know how to call an ambulance in this country, I reminded myself, and that made me feel better.

  As if in response to our stares, the guy stirred. He heavily blinked his eyes open and lifted his head. Then he straightened and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. When his friends noticed his movement, a couple of them slapped him on the back, and he rose to his feet in response. He swayed where he stood, gazing blearily around, then reached for the half-empty mug of beer in front of him and took a swig.

  Dana and I looked at each other in shock and started laughing.

  “Oh my god!” I said. “That’s hardcore.”

  Twenty minutes later their group left and Dana and I were alone at the table. Their rapid departure probably had more than a little to do with the fact that some of them were looking distinctly green. Our solitude lasted about two seconds before the waitress showed up with a group of men following her. She wore a dirndl, as all the waitresses did, and carried ten Maβ, the one-liter heavy-duty glass mugs, clutched in her fists. I was impressed every time I saw one pass by with such a load. The heavy glasses and the beer in them had to weigh a ton. How in the world did they do it?

  The new group of guys squeezed in around us and we became a full table again. The newcomers were also dressed in the traditional Bavarian outfits; short or long lederhosen embroidered with gold thread, hunter green jackets, and matching hats. I had to admit that the leather pants and shorts looked good on men. The leather molded itself well to the thick muscles of their thighs and buttocks. Somehow this type of garment on guys just looked downright...manly, way better than denim.

  They nodded at us politely in greeting, and we nodded back.

  The one next to me reached his hand out to introduce himself. He was tall and had sky-blue eyes. Blond hair peeked out from beneath his hat.

  “English?” I asked, as I grasped his hand. His strong fingers enveloped mine, and my skin tingled from the contact. There was something familiar about him. Had I seen him yesterday?

  “Yes, I speak English,” he said. “Where are you from?” The words, though accented, flowed from him with ease.

  “Florida.” Man, he’s hot. He had full, succulent lips that screamed sensual pleasure.

  He turned to point at each of his friends and name them. “That’s Markus, Tim, and Benedikt—”

  A thunderbolt of memory and astonishment streaked across my brain. “Lars? Is that you?”

  Chapter Two

  He stopped short and looked at me with surprise. “How do you know my name?”

  I pressed a hand to
my chest. “It’s me, Arianna, from Stratford High School.”

  He brightened, and I could see in his eyes that he remembered. I was swept immediately into a giant hug, and my feet left the bench.

  “Arianna!” Our bodies pressed together, and his breath came warm in my ear. “I can’t believe it’s really you.” He kissed me on the cheek before setting me back on my feet, and the warmth of a blush crept over my face. God, he smelled good. He wore one of those mellow musky colognes that made you feel as though the earth itself were wrapping around you.

  Lars grinned at me then turned and spoke to his friends in rapid German. I guessed he was explaining how we knew each other.

  “You know that guy?” Dana asked me.

  “Yeah. He was an exchange student at my high school.” The same one I was just thinking about two seconds ago.

  “Wow. Was he as hot then as he is now?”

  “No. Yes. I mean, he was hot as a teenager, but he’s even hotter now.” In high school he had been lean and gangly. But now, four years later, that framework was filled in with layers of muscle. His chest and shoulders were broader and his arms thicker than my faint memories. The youthful roundness that had softened the planes of his face was gone, which was why I hadn’t recognized him right away. His jaw had more definition, as did his cheeks. Hints of light-brown stubble shadowed his features, further demonstrating that he wasn’t a boy anymore.

  “Did you guys date back then?” Dana asked me.

  I shook my head. “He was friends with my brother. But sometimes we all hung out together.” My brother was a year older than me, and I remembered feeling shy every time he brought the sexy foreigner around. There had been a couple of times Lars had come over when my brother was late getting home from his part-time job. So we’d hung out and chatted, just the two of us. For me, those had been sweet electricity-filled moments where I’d had his full attention. He had seemed to enjoy our time together as well. But nothing had ever happened, even though there’d been moments where I thought it would, electricity-filled ones where I’d blushed all the way to the roots of my hair.

  Lars had been at our high school for only six months, but I still remembered the day he came to our house to say goodbye. The longing looks he and I had exchanged were etched in my memory. He’d kissed me on the cheek when he said goodbye. And for months, every time I thought of it, the skin there heated with memory. It was silly, but in that half second of contact, the simmering attraction had spiked into full bloom when his lips touched my face. In that instant my entire body had become acutely aware of him. Not the teenage crush type feelings, but something rawer from deep in my core. I thought I had seen the same sort of jolt in his eyes, but there’d been no chance to talk about it. And the next day, he was gone.

  Lars and his friends lifted their beers from the table and raised them in a toast. He glanced over at Dana and me and invited us to do the same. We happily joined in, and I even said, “Prost!” as the guys did. It was the German word for cheers.

  I went to take a sip from my mug, but Lars stopped me with a hand on my arm. “You have to touch it to the table first or it’s bad luck.” I hadn’t noticed that custom yesterday, but we hadn’t sat with any Germans then.

  “Oh, okay.” I did as all the boys were doing and touched the bottom of my glass to the table. Dan joined in, too.

  “And when you drink you have to make eye contact,” Lars said. Using two fingers he pointed at his own eyes then mine.

  “Got it.” As I drank, I maintained eye contact with Lars. The blue I remembered from high school had taken on more depth. There were facets to it now, like a diamond, and I had a hard time looking away. I could have stared at him for hours on end. He was just that damn good-looking.

  The tent was loud from the music of the band, the voices of people singing along, and the random chatter of multiple languages. It was so loud Lars had to stand close in order to converse with me, which I didn’t mind at all. He was on the ground and I stood on the bench but, even with that, I wasn’t much above his eye level, which meant he had to be over six feet tall.

  “So how did you end up here?” he asked.

  I glanced to the side to make sure Dana was doing okay. She was already flirting with Lars’s friends, who were all pretty attractive as well, though not as cute as Lars.

  “We’re on vacation. We went to Italy for a couple of days before coming here. We’re headed to France next. After that we go home.” We hadn’t been able to afford more than this one precious week. Now that I was here, I couldn’t bear the thought of having to leave. I think I fell in love with Europe the second I glimpsed it from the plane.

  “When do you leave Munich?” he asked me.

  “Tomorrow. Our train leaves in the morning at nine.” I took another long swallow from my mug and the chilly liquid helped to sooth the fire of attraction smoldering in my belly. Standing so close to him allowed me the pleasure of leisurely examining every feature of his face, from his full lips to his chiseled cheeks and onward to the darker curls of blond hair skimming his neck, which I was dying to stroke with my fingers.

  I’d stared at his profile so many times on Facebook. I assumed that my brother was connected to Lars on there, but I wasn’t sure. Years ago, my brother had refused to friend me because he didn’t want me “spying” on him. He’d even gone as far as blocking me. If he kept in touch with Lars other than that, I had no idea. Probably not. Guys made that whole “out of sight, out of mind” thing true. I had come close several times to just pressing the stupid Friend button. I had known Lars, why not just do it myself? But I was too painfully shy back then to risk the pain of rejection, as minor as it was. And, after talking it over with my friends, we unanimously decided it would have been a lame move. If Lars had wanted to keep in contact with me, we reasoned, he would have friended me himself or taken down my email address so we could write to each other. But neither of those things had happened. So I’d let it go and tried to forget him.

  I should have been over him after all this time. But no, I wasn’t. The attraction came rushing back full force. Even now, I was debating over faking a fall just so I could grasp those strong shoulders of his, but I didn’t. I also knew I had an idiotic smile plastered on my face. But who cared? There wasn’t much I could do to stop it. Everyone here was drunk and acting stupid, no reason for me to be any different. Besides, just like before, I would never see him again after today.

  “What have you seen of the city?” Lars asked.

  “Not much,” I admitted. “We arrived late the day before yesterday and had dinner at Hofbräuhaus. We slept in and then came to Oktoberfest around eleven and ended up spending the whole day here. It was so much fun we decided to come back instead of seeing the sights.”

  “Were you in this tent yesterday?”

  I shook my head, frowning as I tried to remember which one we’d been in. “Can’t remember the name. Something with an S.”

  “Schottenhamel?”

  “Yes! That’s the one.”

  “Did you get a chance to go on some of the rides? Or try the food from the vendors outside? It’s very different from the US.”

  I remembered tantalizing aromas in the air on our way in and out of Theresienwiese, the festival grounds where Oktoberfest was held. But yesterday Dana and I had been on a mission to get into one of the crowded tents because it had been chilly and drizzling. We’d passed some outdoor beer gardens on the way there and neither of us had felt like standing outside in the fall weather away from the excitement. “No, we haven’t had time to do that.”

  “Oh, well you have to—” He was suddenly distracted by the band’s shift to another tune. As one, he and his friends cheered then sang along to the German tune. After sharing a grin with his friends, Lars turned back to me, wrapped an arm around my waist, and, still singing, pulled me close. He had a nice deep singing voice that welled from his gut. It was like chocolate to my ears—if they could eat, that is. I laid my arm around his shoulders and
together we swayed back and forth to the tempo of the music. That’s when I realized his friends and many of the people in the crowd were doing the same, arms interlocked or wrapped around each other.

  He glanced at me. “This is called schunkeln,” he said.

  “You mean the swaying back and forth together?” I asked.

  He grinned. “Yes. Exactly.”

  It was funny how much I enjoyed something so simple. It was just plain fun to be here. Everyone was participating with the antics of the band and the atmosphere was warm and joyful. Being tucked into Lars’s side perfected the moment. Even when the music changed and everyone else stopped schunkeln-ing we remained clasped together. I was totally fine with that. Even through his green wool coat, I detected firm muscles and didn’t really feel like pulling away. Lars snuck his long warm fingers under my coat and rested them on my side just above my waist, the pressure and heat of them almost burning a hole through my T-shirt. I couldn’t have been happier. If ever there was a moment I wanted to freeze in time, this was it.

  “How is your brother?”

  Talk about a buzz kill. “Good. He’s graduating from college this year with a degree in business. He’s not going to believe it when I tell him I ran into you.”

  Lars’s fingers stroked my side in a minute gesture that made me want arch against him. “Make sure to tell him I said hello.”

  “I will.” Was it the beer, or was Lars acting interested in me? Wouldn’t an uninterested guy have let go of me by now?

  “And you? Are you at university, too?”

  I nodded. “I’m in California, at UCLA, studying marketing.”

  His eyes lit up. “How do you like it there?”

  God those lips. He was so close I would just have to tilt my head and lean in... “At first it was hard to be so far away from home, but now I really love it. The weather is great and so is the school.” Focus, Arianna, he’s just an old friend.