"And the other two?"
"Two and Nine."
Tawny whistled. "That's a wide spread."
"My parents don't let anything like that stop them,” Luke said, then added, "but what about you? You have any siblings back in--wherever you're from?"
"Nope. Just me,” she said, trying not to sound sad about it. Fact was, though, she’d always envied people with big families. She’d spent many a day playing tea party with only her teddy bears for company. When she got married, she was going to have a whole load of kids if she could. Just the thought of all the noise and bustle of it made her heart swell.
"And where is it that you're from, exactly? I hear an accent but I can’t place it.”
It was a little funny considering that his own slow drawl fairly dripped Loo-siana, and Tawny tilted her lips in a half smile. "I'm from everywhere, kind of."
He picked up a rock and absently smoothed his thumb over its surface, that boyish grin of his melting her insides. “Is this the part where some crazy sci-fi shit happens and you tell me you're an alien?"
"No, this is the part where I confess my deep dark past as a military brat and you think I’m even more of a weirdo.”
Luke nodded. "Ah. Yeah, I can see that."
"What's that supposed to mean?" she shot back with a gasp.
"Nothing. You just…I’m good at hearing accents and couldn’t identify yours. Take it easy, Doc.”
She went to correct him again and changed her mind. What was the point?
“Sorry, I’m a little sensitive about the whole military brat thing,” she admitted softly.
“If it makes you feel any better, I think it’s cool. All that travel, seeing the world. We’ve all got different perspectives, you know?”
She nodded and scraped at a blade of grass with her thumbnail. “True.”
“Here’s to different strokes,” he said, holding up his mostly empty cup.
She clacked hers against his and polished off the last of her quickly warming beer.
“So what’s the verdict on the bike?” she asked.
“It’s still running, so I’m gonna call that a win.” He chuckled and shook his head but she flushed as she noted his gaze zeroing in on her mouth. She wondered if there was still a hint of that peachy lip gloss Suzette had made her wear and resisted the urge to fluff her hair.
He set his empty cup on the ground and tugged a silver flask from his pocket. “Whiskey?”
She shook her head. “No thanks.”
He poured himself a small shot and tossed it back with a grunt.
“You should probably go easy too, with the head injury,” she warned, knowing she sounded like a den mother but unable to stop herself.
“Don’t worry, darlin’. I’m only going to have the one. Rex is supposed to drive home but I saw he was knocking them back by the bonfire so I’m pretty sure I’ll wind up behind the wheel by the time we are ready to head home in a few hours.”
Okay, so at least he wasn’t totally reckless. That was good. But the shiver rolling up the back of her neck at the fact that he’d called her darlin’? That was the part that had her ready to run again.
“I’m hot as hell. Want to go for a swim with me, Doc?”
She wet her lips and took a glance behind her to see if she could see any of the others.
What had her father always told her about being alone with strange guys? To watch her back.
But so far, Luke had been nothing but a gentleman…and she did have on shorts and a tank top. It wasn’t like she had to go in naked or something.
Suzette’s words from earlier in the day rang through her head.
They’d done it. They’d graduated college and, very soon, she was going to be spending the rest of her life adulting. Surely one little swim and a night of fun couldn’t hurt…
“Okay. Sure.”
Chapter 4
“Sweet mother of god.”
Damn. Had she just said that out loud?
It had all been fine. The semi-awkward walk to the edge of the lake. The nervous chatter spewing from her mouth as they both bent to take off their shoes. Even the shrill giggle she let out as he gripped the hem of her shirt. She was a little tipsy, after all, and it was a hot summer night. Surely all that could be forgiven, if not easily forgotten.
What she’d likely never live down was her gasped prayer as he tugged the t-shirt over his head.
Sweet mother of god? Is that what savvy, no-longer-college-students said when confronted with a naked male torso? She was pretty sure not. And what made it worse was the fact that she was a nursing student. She’d seen more than her fair share of torsos during clinicals.