Eve: Drink Of Me (F&L Story #2)

Eve: Part 9

Part 9

What the hell was that about?  He’d come to pick up a schedule for next week, saw Eve pushing her brother out of his room with a sly grin on her face, and before he knew it, he asked her to go for a ride, and nearly kissed her.

Eve Sanborn was a blond bartender in promiscuous clothing.  And none of those things had ever appealed to him before.

Had he only known her three days?  It felt like three months.  In the short amount of time, he’d run the gauntlet of emotions around her and still couldn’t shake her loose from his system.  Something about her intrigued him.  Something made him do – and say – things that he just didn’t want to do.  Like asking her to go cruise with him later.  The short drive yesterday morning was still fresh in his memory, and the way his body reacted to her straddled behind him sent a jolt of pure electricity through his veins.

And he knew exactly what that felt like.  He’d drunk himself to oblivion so many times, that at one point the numbness nearly killed him.  Waking to a defibrillator strapped to his chest wasn’t a pleasant experience.  Not to mention vomiting all over the medic and ambulance.

If that was what Eve did to him, he’d pass.  He should have backed out the second her blue eyes flickered with indecision, but hell…her lips parted just a tiny bit at that moment, and he forgot all about his near-death experience.

He’d have to kiss her tonight.  He’d have to.  Then he’d know whether to pursue something more intimate.  Otherwise, his bank account can’t withstand more than one hobby.  And that Indian bike, though needed more work than Maisy originally claimed, would only take so long to restore.  After that…

After that, he could only pray that baby brother, Carey, was well enough to finally go home.  However, Clint’s gut told him that Eve’s sibling can’t handle much more of the increased treatments.  Following the one extra dosage of radiation, Carey seemed more weakened than he should have been.  He may not be able to handle much more.

Clint didn’t know which would be worse.  To loose Carey?  Or to see the anguish and mourning in Eve’s eyes?

*****

Eve really wasn’t dressed to ride on the back of a motorcycle.  Her denim miniskirt would ride up her thighs if she tried to straddle behind the massive bulk of Dr. LeBoeuf, but sitting side-saddle wasn’t safe.  In the end, she returned a smiling Carey and a blushing Sage back to their rooms and stole a set of scrubs from a nurse’s locker.  She walked slowly out of the front entrance with ten minutes to spare and waited for the sound of Clint’s hog to announce his arrival.

After almost fifteen minutes, she wondered if he changed his mind.  But then he gunned the engine as he whipped his Fat Bob into the drop-off circle, and she teetered on her heels as her mind told her to run, but her body refused to obey.

Clint eyed her outfit and chuckled.  “What are you wearing?”

She glanced down at her black spiked heels sticking out of the hem of the scrub bottoms and sighed.  “Not much of a fashion statement, is it?  But I couldn't ride in the clothes I was wearing.”