Baxter

Goddamn. I mean…Goddamn. Hottest ten minutes of my entire motherfuckin’ life, and that’s saying something serious. Immediately after orgasming, I wanted more. I wanted to strip her naked and make her come again. This time with my mouth, and then my cock. I wanted to lock us in that room and not leave until I’d had enough of her. Which…might be never.

She was still down there on her knees, staring at me intently, those wide green eyes innocent and horny all at once. Curious, too.

I reached down and grabbed her hand, taking her by the index finger. Brought the tip of that finger to the mess on my stomach. Hovered over it. She wiggled her hand out of my grip.

“I can do it,” she said, somewhat snappish.

I couldn’t help an amused grin; she had a fiercely independent streak a thousand miles wide hiding inside her. Hot as fuck, that was.

She hesitated, and then dipped her finger into the mess. I watched, my dick twitching, as she popped that finger into her mouth and licked the droplet of my come. Her eyes widened, and then she furrowed her brows.

“Not what I was expecting,” she said.

“No? Better or worse?”

She shrugged. “Neither. I don’t know what I was expecting, but that’s…” She was blushing yet again, the innocent little thing. She hesitated, hunting for what to say. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“Not that bad, huh?”

She tilted her chin up, her expression hardening, going firm and determined. “No, not that bad at all.” Her eyes sparkled and sparked, fierce. Eager. “In fact, I think I kind of liked it.”

And then she dipped her finger back in, and licked it off, removing her finger from her mouth with a pop, then flicked her tongue over her knuckles, the tiny pink tip of her tongue licking away the stray droplets that had trickled onto her hand.

Oh boy, as she said. Oh boy.

I unspooled a wad of toilet paper and crumpled it up, but before I could do anything else, she took it from me. “Let me,” she said.

I shrugged, and rested my hands on my thighs. “Be my guest.”

Gently, with such a sweetly hesitant touch, she cleaned me, folding the toilet paper over and over again, wiping at me until I was totally clean, then she bent to peer at my dick, realizing that as I’d softened, some come had dripped free; she wiped that too, and then I lifted up so she could toss the wad into the toilet, and I hit the flush lever.

“We should go shopping, now,” I said, standing up and offering my hands.

She grasped my hands and I pulled her to her feet. “We could stay here,” she suggested.

I brushed her cheek with my palm. “Eager for more, huh?”

She nodded, a study of innocence and sweetness, yet her eyes betrayed fire and desire. “Yes, I am, actually.”

I leaned in, kissed her, quickly and softly. “Plenty of time, babe. Let's get you some clothes.”

“And something else to eat?” she said, leaning against me to grab the doorknob. “I’m hungry.”

I couldn’t help sneaking a palmful of her ass as she leaned against me, and she went off-balance, giving me her weight for a moment, breathing softly in my ear.

“Orgasms make you hungry,” I murmured.

“Then no wonder I’m so ravenous,” she said, her voice warm and buzzing in my ear, close. “I’ve had three in the last…what? Ten, eleven hours? More than I’ve had in an entire month combined, I think.”

“So you masturbate, do you?” I asked.

She pushed off me, tugged open the door, peeked out to make sure the coast was clear, and waved me back into her room. I went, and she followed, closing the bedroom door behind us. Evangeline scooped up my clothes and handed them to me.

“We’re not talking about that,” she said. “Get dressed. I’m hungry now.”

I faked a snarky salute. “Yes ma’am. Getting dressed, pronto.” I eyed her. “Why aren’t we talking about whether or not you masturbate?”

She shrugged, slipping her feet into the borrowed flip-flops. “Because you’ll make it all…erotic, and then we’ll never leave, and I need food. And I really would like some different clothes. Not that I’m not grateful to Dru, but…I don’t feel like myself in this.”

“Maybe that’s not a bad thing,” I suggested as I dressed, knowing I had to tread carefully, here. “Maybe…maybe it’s time you explore different ways to feel like yourself.”

She gazed at me steadily. “You may be right. But at the very least, I need underwear,” she said, reaching for the door, “I feel so strange not wearing any.”

I hissed. “Dammit, Eva, you can’t say shit like that to me.”

She paused, frowning, genuinely puzzled. “Why not? What did I say?”

“You, not wearin’ any panties? Gets my head running down dirty paths, babe.” I sidled up to her, her back pressed against the door, one hand behind her back on the doorknob. Snuck my fingers inside the elastic of the sweatpants. “Like how I could just…”

I held her gaze as I slid my fingers down, down, feeling the soft thatch of her trimmed but not sculpted or shaved pubic hair—which I found hot as fuck, for reasons I wasn’t sure of.

“Just what, Baxter?” she prompted, staring back at me intently, almost daring me.

“Just slide my fingers inside you, whenever I wanted, and feel this…this tight, hot, wet little pussy of yours.”

She gasped as I suited actions to words, sinking my middle finger inside her tight-as-a-drum channel. “Whenever you wanted, huh?”

“Whenever, wherever.” Grinned hungrily at her. “I could sit beside you while we’re eating, and I could just…do…this.” I fingered her clit, got her writhing. “Drive you crazy. Knowing you’re not wearin’ any damn panties makes my horny-ass brain go haywire.”

She thunked her head against the door and whined in her throat, pressing herself against my touch. “Baxter, god, how can you get me like this so fast?”

“Because you’re eager and you’re horny. You want it.” I leaned in close as I touched her, knowing it would take only a moment or two more. I wanted to watch and smell and feel her come apart again—needing it like I needed to breathe, actually. “You like it when I touch your pussy. You want it so bad, don’t you?”

She closed her eyes and writhed her hips. “Mmmm-hmmm.”

“Say it, Eva. Let me hear you say you want me to touch your pussy until you come.”

“This again?” she asked, opening her eyes to glare defiantly at me. “Fine. I want it, Baxter. I want to feel you touch my…my pussy. I want you to make me come.”

God, the dirty words on her tongue, dropping from her lips…they seemed so much dirtier, so much more erotic. I talked this way all the time, but with Eva, it felt…new, and hotter than it had ever been.

And then, within seconds, she was gasping against my neck, her breath hot, and then her teeth sank into the skin on the side of my neck and she was clinging to my shoulders, riding my finger for dear life, trying desperately to stifle her screams and moans of ecstasy.

“Damn, baby, you come fast,” I murmured.

“Is that…bad?” she asked, gasping.

“Fuck no,” I said. “It’s good. It means you like it. You like being touched. You’re ready to go, and it don’t take much to get you there.” I eyed her as I withdrew my touch. “You ever come more than once in a row?”

She eyed me in incredulity. “That’s actually a thing? I thought it was just a myth.”

I shook my head, choosing my words with care, this time around. “It’s real. You come so fast, I’m guessing you could have multiple O’s pretty easily.”

“God, that would be…” She shuddered, eyes closing, shoulders lifting in a shiver. “That would be so intense, I’m not sure how I’d be able to handle it.”

I opened the door, leaning close to whisper in her ear. “That could be a little experiment between us, then—to see how many times I can make you come.”

She just blinked up at me. “I think I would enjoy being the subject of that experiment, Baxter.”

“Yes, Eva, I think you will.”

* * *

Shopping was fuckin’ fun, actually. She would try on outfits and strut out wearing them, to get my approval. I approved everything, though, which only irritated her, discarding this shirt or that skirt as not fitting right or not the best pattern, or…so many different reasons. Yet somehow, as we left each store, she ended up with half the shit they had on the racks, despite discarding so many pieces. And we went to a dozen stores, all the clothing shops in Ketchikan. We’d climb into the Silverado my brothers and I shared, and we’d listen to country, a compromise between her taste for pop and my taste for heavy metal. Actually, I liked country, but I’d never admit it to anyone. We listened to music and the windows were down, and it was a gloriously gorgeous day, the sun shining brightly in a cloudless blue sky. The back seat of the truck was full of bags already, and she said she had a few items left she wanted to get. She had her phone out and a GPS app open, Googling which stores she wanted to go to and directing me to them. Now, she clearly had selected a store in mind, and was figuring out the directions to it.

When we got there, I quirked an eyebrow at her. “Lingerie, huh?”

She shrugged. “I need underwear.” A defiant stare met my gaze, when she looked at me. “And Hanes aren’t really my thing. So yes, lingerie.”

“Nothin’ wrong with Hanes,” I said, “but there also ain’t nothin’ wrong with some nice lingerie.”

She climbed out of the truck, and then glanced back at me when I made no move to get out and go in with her. “Aren’t you coming in?”

“You gonna let me watch?” I said with a smirk.

“Watch? No, I don’t think so. That wouldn’t be appropriate out in public.”

“I figured I’d just make you and everyone else in there uncomfortable if I went in,” I admitted.

She hesitated a bit more. “Just come in with me. Into the store,” she clarified with an eye roll, as I started to open my mouth to make a comment, “not the changing room.”

I closed the windows, shut off the truck, and followed her in. I stood near her as she discussed what she wanted with the saleslady, and then I followed her around as she perused the shelves. The saleslady came back with a handful of garments, all lacy and slinky and sexy.

As Eva moved toward the changing rooms, I remarked, “I didn’t take you for the lacy lingerie type, honestly.”

“I know. Most people probably wouldn’t.” She glanced back at me, lifting up the handful of bras and panties. “I started wearing this stuff when I was a teenager, because it was one of the few things I could choose for myself and no one was ever the wiser. Everything else was always very tightly controlled by my parents. Underwear? That I could choose for myself, at least. So I chose this kind of thing as an act of rebellion, and because underwear like this makes me feel…I don’t know. Sexy. Like, if I’m wearing this stuff, just for me, I feel like I’m still someone a man would want, if he knew I was wearing it.”

“Meaning you feel like no man would want you, otherwise?”

“Not really. Just that all the guys I’ve met are only interested in sex, politics, and money, and how they can get those three things out of me, rather than being interested in me for me.”

“Can I just take this opportunity to remind you that while I am interested in sex, that’s not all I’m interested in? And that I have zero interest in money or politics?”

She smirked at me. “I do appreciate the reminder, but I’m not in any danger of forgetting that you’re in no way like any other man I’ve ever met.” Her gaze raked over me. “In more than one regard.”

I laughed, and jerked a thumb at the changing rooms. “Go try that shit on so we can go eat.”

She took a step away, and then paused, turned back to me, and held out her hand. “Let me see your cell phone.”

Without hesitating, I slid it out of my pocket, unlocked it, and handed it to her. “Here ya go.”

“Thanks. I’ll give it back when I’m done.”

“Done? With what?”

She shrugged a shoulder and turned away, her hair flipping in my face. “You’ll see.”

I’d said I was an open book, but I was a permanently single guy, and thus had a rather elaborate spank-bank stash of photos, videos, and websites in various places on my phone. I wasn’t going to pretend like it wasn’t mine if she happened to find it somehow, but it could also lead to a weird conversation, since I wasn’t sure what she thought about porn. I figured she’d be horrified if she saw it, but seeing as I was wrong about the kind of underwear she liked, I could be wrong about that. A guy could hope, you know?

She was gone for a good ten minutes, and then emerged with the garments, strode directly to the cash register, paid for everything with a swipe of a card, and led the way out to the truck. I got in, started it up, and headed out.

“Where to?” I asked.

She shrugged. “The B and B real quick? We can drop off all the bags and I can change.”

“You still using my phone?”

She smirked at me. “Yep.” And that was all she said.

“Okayyyyy.” I shrugged. “You’re being awful mysterious all of a sudden.”

She eyed me sidelong. “You got something on your phone you’re worried about me seeing, Baxter?”

Uh-oh. She’d found something. I shrugged, nonchalant, even though I was feeling a little…nervous. “I don’t have anything to hide, no. Nothing I’m ashamed of.”

I just didn’t want to alienate her this soon, since I really liked her. Like, not just because she had great tits, an incredible ass, and had given me the best handjob of my entire life—which, by the way, included every blowjob I’ve ever gotten. I genuinely liked her, as a person, aside from the raging inferno that was my sexual attraction to her. If she was anti-porn and had stumbled across some of my saved sites or the photos girls I’d hooked up with had sent me, it’d be over before it even got started.

She just gave me that odd little smirk again. “Okay, if you say so.”

I eyed her suspiciously as I drove us to the B and B. “Eva, babe, you got somethin’ to say, say it. You had my phone, and I’m a dude. A perpetually single dude with a high-rev libido, I might add. I ain’t ashamed of anything on there. It is what it is.”

She just laughed. “Baxter, relax. Trust me a little, okay?”

I let out a breath, because whatever she was up to, she didn’t seem pissed, so…fine, whatever. Let her have her fun.

We reached the Kingsley’s in a matter of minutes, and I helped her carry all the bags into her room. When all of her shopping was on her bed, she turned on me. “Okay, buster. Out. I need to try things on and change. I won’t take too long.”

I shrugged. “Like I said, I’m in no hurry. I can wait in the truck.”

“Okay. I’ll be out soon…ish.”

I paused halfway out the door. “You still need my phone?”

She nodded. “Yep.”

I shook my head and chuckled. “Okay then, little miss secretive.” I told her my passcode, because like I said, I got nothin’ to hide, and then I headed out to the truck and started it up, immediately switching the radio back to heavy metal.

Apparently to Eva, “soon…ish” and “won’t take too long” meant upward of thirty minutes. Which, without my phone as a distraction, seemed a lot longer than it might have otherwise.

When she did emerge, she was dressed to fuckin’ kill. A knee-length maroon skirt slit up the sides and a tight, V-neck, short sleeve, silver shirt in some shimmery material that hugged and emphasized her tits, which were lifted high by a bra with just enough cleavage showing to make my dick sit up and take notice, a pair of strappy silver gladiator sandals, and a small silver clutch purse.

She slid into the truck, smiling shyly at me.

“Damn, girl. We goin’ somewhere fancy I don’t know about?” I asked. “Because for real, you look…fuckin’ incredible.”

She ducked her head, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Thank you. This is just how I dress. I’m not really a jeans and T-shirt sort of girl.”

I shook my head. “Well you sure as hell won’t hear me complaining, because I mean damn…you look fine.”

“It’s just a skirt and blouse. Nothing special.”

I touched her chin and then brushed my thumb over her cheek, something I couldn’t seem to resist doing, especially because when I did it, she tended to subtly nuzzle into the touch, which made something in my chest flutter and something in my stomach flip-flop. “Sweetheart, you’re missing my point. It ain’t the clothes, it’s the woman in the clothes, and the way you look wearing them. You’ve got a way of making even just a skirt and blouse look like a million bucks.”

She grinned at me. “Only a million? Don’t short change me, now, Baxter.”

I laughed. “Fine. A billion. A trillion.” More seriously, then. “How about…you look absolutely priceless. Without peer.”

“Thank you, Baxter,” she said, primly. “Now…food?”

I laughed yet again, something I seemed to do a lot around her. “I love that you think with your stomach as much as I do.”

And so we found ourselves sitting on the same side of a booth at my favorite burger joint, waiting for our burgers. Mine, of course, was a triple-patty number, no bun, with cheese, bacon, avocado, and a fried egg on top, sweet potato fries on the side. When it came, Evangeline eyed me, and then the burger, with incredulity.

“Wow, that’s…a lot of food,” she noted.

I nodded, digging in. “Yeah, well, you have noticed I ain’t exactly Tiny Tim, here. I work out a lot, and need a lot of food to sustain my caloric output.”

She tapped the fried egg and bacon topping the monster burger. “Isn’t that a lot of cholesterol?”

I laughed. “Nutrition is actually a vastly misunderstood thing. Forget about BMI, forget about cholesterol, forget everything everybody told you about fat being bad. Eat good, nutritious, whole foods. Burn all that fuckin’ processed, fake, chemical-laced, bleached white flour bullshit carb garbage, and get rid of any kind of sugar or sugar-substitute or sugar-derivative. That’s the shit that’ll kill ya.”

She was staring at me. “Wow. You sound…passionate about this.”

I shrugged. “Yeah, well, I’ve been an athlete my whole life. My body is my art, my profession, and my weapon. I want it to be in tip-top shape at all times, so I gotta put the right fuel into it. So yeah, I’m passionate about it. I don’t see how everyone isn’t, honestly. It’s your fuckin’ body, the thing you fuckin’ live in, the only one you’re gonna get, ever. How can you not take care of it? Yeah, donuts and bear claws and slushies and Twinkies, all that shit tastes good, but that shit is fuckin’ killin’ you, bro. Candy bars, soda, all that shit? It’s fuckin’ poison. Legit, poison. Might as well just mainline fuckin’ drain cleaner as ingest that nasty-ass chemical bullshit.”

“You use the F-word more than anyone I’ve ever met, you know that?” she asked, laughing. “But I take your point.” She nudged the glass of diet cola in front of her. “So I shouldn’t drink this?”

“Fuck is the most versatile word in the English language, and my favorite curse word.” I lifted a shoulder. “And I mean, I sure as shit wouldn’t drink that, even if it was the last beverage on earth. But you do you, babe. Ain’t my place to tell you or anyone else what do with their bodies or their lives.”

She slid the cola away and reached for the glass of water the waitress had set down when we’d arrived. “So what do you drink, if you don’t drink soda?”

“Coffee, green tea, whiskey, beer, and water. Sometimes wine, but only dry red.”

“Why?”

“White’s full of sugar, that’s why.”

“Oh.” She sounded forlorn, and I guessed she was sweet white kind of girl.

I laughed. “Babe, I’m not tryin’ to tell you what to do or what to eat. You wanna know what I think, I’ll tell you. But don’t feel like you have to change just because of what I think.”

“I kind of want to change, though, and I am interested in what you have to say about this, since you’re clearly very good at being healthy. I work out, do yoga, and run. I like being healthy, and I try to avoid junk food, but I do indulge sometimes.” She finished her burger and started on the fries. “Bread is hard to give up. And so is my pinot grigio.”

I nodded. “Dude, I get it. I was addicted to Mt. Dew in high school, and in college I ate like shit until my coach got on my ass about my belly. I went through withdrawals from that shit, I swear. Garlic bread and mozzarella sticks and loaded potato skins? That shit was my jam, man. I’ve always tended toward beer and whiskey so that part wasn’t hard, but soda took a minute.”

The conversation moved to our favorite movies as I finished eating and we sipped on coffee. I found it surprisingly easy to just talk to her. She was, obviously, wicked smart, but she was also very erudite, current on pop-culture and news, and had a wry, dry sense of humor that kept me constantly laughing and always guessing, never knowing what would come out of her mouth.

I was about to the pay the bill when a big, tattooed body slid into the booth opposite us.

I tensed. “Moss, what up, bro?”

I slid closer to Evangeline and wrapped my arm around her; felt her to be as tense as I was. Picking up on my tension, probably.

“I need to move up your fight,” Moss said, without preamble.

I gave him the full-on death glare. “Dude, seriously? This is not the fuckin’ place for that conversation, man. You know that. You have my phone number, fuckin’ use it.”

Moss was a massive man. Six-six and three hundred pounds easily, tattooed from fingertip to shoulders and all over his chest and neck, with a shaved head and a thick blond beard down to his chest, ears pierced from the lobes all the way up to the tips, fingers decorated with gold rings and platinum necklaces around his neck.

He lifted an eyebrow at me. “I been textin’ you for an hour. You ain’t replied, and I was walkin’ past when I saw you, so I figured I’d deliver the message in person.” His gaze went to Evangeline, raking her over several times, blatantly ogling. “And Basher, my man, you gotta introduce me to this fine-ass honey you got with you. Flavor of the week, amiright?”

“My phone died, forgot about that. Sorry.” I tugged Evangeline closer. “And no, I don’t have to introduce you to shit, Moss.”

“Come on, bro. You can’t keep a honey that tight all to yourself.” He was leaning forward over the table, sliding his hands toward Evangeline’s, making eyes at her. “Ditch this gorilla, babe. Come with me, I’ll show you a real good time.”

I leveled a glare at Moss that even he couldn’t ignore. “Moss, listen to me. You got the fight connections and I respect that. We make each other money—I make you a shitload of money. But do not mistake me for your buddy, okay? I will fuck your shit up in ten seconds flat if you don’t back the fuck off, right the fuck now. Feel me…bro? You know I don’t play, so don’t try me.”

Moss stared me down, but he was the first to look away, leaning back in the booth and raising his hands palms out. “A’ight, a’ight. No harm, no foul. But I got you here; you gotta give me an answer. Can you fight tonight? The big money boys want to see you and Juarez ASAP.”

“I thought it was Nagle? Since when is it Juarez?”

“Nagle lost to Rooster last night, got legit fucked up, so he’s stuck in the hospital gettin’ his forearm screwed back together. Juarez got tapped to fill in.”

I sighed. “Nagle shoulda known better than to let Rooster get his paws on him. That big ugly fuck likes to break shit.” I grimaced. “I gotta figure out my schedule before I can commit. I’ll get back to you.”

Moss shook his head, his beard waggling side to side. “Nah, bro. I gotta make the call in the next ten minutes.”

I groaned. “You’re killin’ me, Smalls.” I nodded my head sideways at Evangeline. “I’m busy, get me?”

Moss laughed, a deep belly laugh. “Bring the honey, then. I’ll keep her safe,” he said, winking at her.

“Yeah, sure. Dream on, Bullwinkle. I wouldn’t trust you with a pet rock, Moss.”

“You wound me, Basher. For real. I might cry.”

I glanced at Evangeline. “You could hang back with the girls, maybe?”

She shrugged, her expression carefully neutral. “Don’t take me into account when making your plans, Baxter.”

I sighed, not liking that answer, but knowing I had no choice. There was well over ten grand riding on this fight, and I would be getting a thirty percent cut of that. Plus, me versus Juarez would be a big draw, as we were both flashy, entertaining fighters, and I knew Juarez wouldn’t fuck around, but also wouldn’t go for serious injury, unlike some assholes.

I nodded, tapping the tabletop with my knuckles. “Fine. But I get fifteen percent of the on-site pool.”

“Five,” Moss countered.

“Fuck you, you stupid cow. Twelve.”

“Fuck you back, you ignorant slut. Ten.”

I held out my hand. “Original thirty percent, plus ten percent of the on-site pool.”

Moss shook my hand. “Deal. I’ll call you later with the location.”

And then he was gone, ambling out the door, hands in the hip pockets of his sagging black jeans.

I blew out a breath and slumped down in the booth. “Shit. Shit.” I glanced at Evangeline. “I’m sorry about that. About him, and the whole scene. That’s not normally how things get set up.”

“So you’re fighting? Tonight?”

I nodded. “Looks like it. There’s a lot of money on this fight, even more now that there’s been a last-minute lineup change.”

She was carefully still. “You do what you have to do. Don’t worry about me.”

I sat up and pivoted in the booth to face her. “I really am sorry about Moss hitting on you like that.”

She waved a hand. “That’s of no consequence.”

“Then what is? You seem upset. We met while I was fighting, remember?”

She shrugged. “I just…don’t know where I fit in this. What is this?”

“You don’t know what what is?”

Another shrug. “We messed around last night and then again this morning, which means what we’re doing isn’t a one-night stand. So then…what is it?”

I sighed. “Does it need a label?”

“Yeah, kind of. So I know what to expect.”

“You need a label? Then call it… a tryst. Or a hookup. Hell, I don’t know, Eva. This ain’t like any other hookup I’ve had. Those are…cheap. Quick and easy, nothin’ really to ’em but some sex and fun.” I caught her gaze and held it. “You’re not cheap, nor are you easy. This ain’t just somethin’ quick. I don’t know how to label this, and maybe I don’t want to try, you know? Let it be something different.”

“I am easy, though…and cheap. If I’m doing something like this.” She finally met my gaze, her expression apologetic. “I don’t mean to insult you, it’s just…”

“Hey, I’m not insulted. I’m all for cheap and easy sex, and frequently. My life hasn’t really needed anything more. I was always focused on school and playing ball, and had no time or interest in anything serious. Don’t mean I don’t think there can be something more or something meaningful, if I wanted to look. I just wasn’t interested.” I touched her hand, covering hers with mine. “You’re trying something new. That doesn’t make this—or you—cheap or easy. Don’t fall into that trap of self-judgment, Eva.”

She shrugged. “Okay, so maybe that’s true. But I still don’t know what to expect, or where I fit.”

“You can expect me to treat you right. I ain’t gonna ghost on you, or decide I’m done once I get what I want. As for where you fit? You decide that, Eva. Like I said, you can hang at the apartment, or sit down in the family booth and pound some booze with the crew.”

She blinked at me. “The family booth?”

I nodded. “Yeah. At Badd’s, we have the booth closest to the kitchen and service bar that’s permanently reserved for us brothers and their women. There are always at least one or two people in the booth, reading, studying, or just hanging out and drinking. You got a permanent place in that booth whenever you want, regardless of what you may or may not expect from me. You can hang there, and you’ll have good company. My brothers and the girls will treat you right. I think you discovered that last night. We may not have a lot of money and we may be crude sometimes, but if there’s one thing we know, it’s hospitality, okay?”

She tried a somewhat wobbly smile at me. “Your family is amazing.”

“I don’t get what happened with you, just now, though. What was it about Moss’s visit that has you tripping?”

She shrugged. “I guess he just…reminded me that I don’t fit into your life. He scares me.”

I snorted. “Moss? He’s a big ol’ pussy. He organizes the fights because he doesn’t have the balls to be in ’em. Lotta talk, not a lotta bite.”

“He’s still scary.”

“I guess I can see that.” I winked at her. “But when your older brother is a man like Zane, it becomes kinda hard for anyone else to seem scary.”

She laughed. “You make a good point.” She sobered, and met my eyes with a strangely serious expression. “I don’t know why I’m so worried about fitting into your life. Though, I suppose it’s not like that’s what this is, anyway.” A long, weighted pause. “Right?”

I shrugged, not liking the way that sounded, or my own viscerally emotional reaction to her words. “I mean, you got Yale, right?”

“Right. So whatever this is, it has an expiration date. Which is best for us both.” She was looking at me intently.

I really didn’t like the way my heart was hammering, as if protesting the truth in her words. “Right,” I agreed, working hard to sound casual. “It’s got a built-in expiration date. And until then, we can just enjoy whatever this is. Label, no label.”

“Part of me does wish I could just hide out here forever, though,” Evangeline said, after a moment of silence. “It would make avoiding Father and Thomas so much easier.”

“Do you think they’re looking for you?”

She nodded. “Oh, without a doubt. Father probably has an entire team of private investigators hunting me down as we speak.”

“Even though you took off on your own, of your own free will?”

She nodded. “In my family, one does not simply vanish without a word. It’s just not done. It’s bad enough that I’m not interested in politics, but to run away like this? It’s the height of embarrassment for my parents.”

I shook my head. “I do not get that shit at all.” I eye her. “Why did you run away?”

“They expect things of me,” she answered. “They pay for Yale. They bought my car. They would have bought me a condo near the school if I hadn’t insisted on staying on campus, which was a whole big fight by itself. I should already be married to Thomas, according to them. There’s no reason for me to even really need a degree in anything, when my breeding and pedigree is all about being a trophy wife for the great and mighty Thomas Haverton. He’s planning to run for Senate soon, and it will look best, optics-wise, if he’s married. My place, according to them, is at his side. Making him look good. Organizing his parties, having his perfect little children, decorating his perfect house in Georgetown—and I’m the decoration, by the way.” A shrug. “I’m here because I just couldn’t handle their expectations any longer. I needed a break. I had to…I just had to get away for a while, and hopefully figure out what to do next with my life.”

She sighed bitterly. “They have my whole life arranged—it’s all been arranged for years. He has the house already picked out. He’s just waiting on me to come to my senses and finally agree to marry him. And my parents are putting ever more pressure on me to agree, no matter what I tell them. Next thing I know, they’ll be using Yale as leverage.”

“That’s bullshit.”

She nodded. “Yes, it is. But that’s my life.” She smiled at me, then. “That’s why I’m here: I needed an escape from it all.”

I thought about everything she’d said. “And I’m the escape, huh?”

She ducked her head, nodding. “Yes. I suppose that would be true.” She met my eyes, yet again looking sorrowful and apologetic. “I’m using you, aren’t I? God, that’s horrible. I’m a horrible person.”

I laughed. “Eva, babe. You’re overthinking it. I don’t mind being used. Not by you, not like this. I’m in this eyes-open, okay? You don’t belong here, and I don’t belong in Boston, or wherever the fuck Yale is. Like you said, this thing has a built-in expiration date. So quit vilifying yourself, yeah? You have my permission to use me, and then when you decide you’re ready to go back to your life, you can wash your hands of me.”

“Yale is in New Haven, Connecticut,” she murmured, and then she stared at me, emotions I couldn’t make sense of crossing her features too quickly to read. “I won’t wash my hands of you, Baxter. I will cherish this time I have with you.”

That caused something to pang, deep inside me; I didn’t dare look at it too closely. “Eva, babe—”

She gave me bright, happy smile. A little too bright, a little too happy, maybe. “Well…we’ve shopped and eaten. Now what do you want to do?”

“Aside from you, six different ways by midnight?”

She shuddered, goose bumps pebbling her skin. “Why does it have to be aside from that?”

I shrugged. “I dunno. Maybe it doesn’t have to be.”

Her eyes, locked on mine, were openly and blatantly curious. Heated. Daring me. Challenging. “No, maybe it doesn’t.” She nibbled on her lower lip. “But…why only six ways? Why stop there?”

I grinned, and slid my hand onto her knee, teasing up under her skirt. “That was just an expression. I’m sure I can think of a lot more than just six.”

“A lot more?”

“A lot more.”

“Because you mentioned a little…scientific inquiry, earlier.” She placed her hand on mine, and urged my touch higher, the daring, darling girl.

“Ah, yes. The experiment. For science, of course.”

“For science, of course.” She hesitated a moment. “Um, but I have one question.”

“What’s that honey?”

“The B and B, while nice, doesn’t exactly abound in privacy. And I’m assuming you probably live with your brothers…”

“I do,” I affirmed.

“So…is there somewhere private we can go?” She licked her lips nervously. “Our little scientific inquiry might be best carried out in private, if you know what I mean.”

I leaned close, whispered in her ear. “Meaning, you want somewhere you can scream, huh, Eva?”

She gulped as I traced the gusset of her underwear, under the table. “Yes, precisely.”

“Precisely?”

She nodded. “Precisely.”

I withdrew my touch and stood up, extended my hand to help her out of the booth, murmuring in her ear as I tossed enough cash on the table to cover our meal plus a generous tip. “I think I know just the place, actually.”

“Lead the way, then,” Evangeline said, and I didn’t miss the fact that she was fairly buzzing with excitement.

Damn. The girl was eager.

The thought that floated through my head, then, scared the actual bejeezus out of me:

How am I supposed to give this chick up, when she decides to leave?