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

Eve: Part 13

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Part 13

May 22, 2010. Sunday. 9:30 p.m.

Clint couldn’t focus on the oil pump in his hand. He’d have to replace this one, he knew that for sure, but anything else concerning Maisy’s old bike left him. It was Eve. Always Eve in his mind lately. Her taste, her scent, her laugh, her smile, her brilliant blue eyes…even that halo of straight blond hair that he’d grown fond of.

Thank goodness Dr. Hussein, Rudy’s replacement, will arrive later tonight, and Clint was scheduled for some much needed time off. He could load up his Harley, pack a duffel bag and head up to Table Rock Lake where Maisy and Randy owned a small cabin. Spend a couple of days on the lake...ride his motorcycle over to Eureka Springs where the hills and valleys were perfect for a day of cruising...maybe, even do a little fishing...

Headlights flashed through his open garage door, and he looked up, shielding his eyes from the blinding light. He recognized Eve's vehicle immediately. A midnight blue Ford Explorer with a fender-bender dent on the passenger's side. Then the object of his distraction emerged, long, tanned legs first and shimmering blond hair second, as she stood up and closed the driver's side door. Clint rose slowly from his crouch and watched her walk toward him. Still dressed in those blue shorts and that white, lacy top, she looked just as luscious and sexy as the first time he'd ever spotted her. But now, he knew the clothes were only a facade. She was no more of a man-hunting trollop than his Great Aunt Fanny.

The first thing he asked as she approached was, “Why do you dress like that?”

Eve stopped, looked down at her clothing and said, “What do you mean? I wore this earlier.”

Clint stepped over to her. “The tight pants, the high heels, the skimpy little shirts that bare your shoulders...” he clarified. “Why do you wear them?”

Eve actually smiled sweetly up at him. “And I thought men liked it when women dress this way.”

“I'm not complaining,” he said – at least, not now – and then said, “I'm just curious as to why you always dress this way.”

She shrugged, fiddled with her keys, and explained, “I was a waitress for almost ten years. My tips put me through business school, and the less I wore, the better the tips. I'm just used to it, I guess.”

“And now you own a restaurant?”

“Part own,” she said, “And manage. I only own about a quarter of the business, but my partner/boss runs a place up in Memphis, so this one is pretty much mine unless he comes down to check on things.”

“You must be doing well to go from a waitress to a manager,” he said, and didn't know why he was talking about her work. “But didn't you say you were a bartender?”

Eve looked at him...studied him. He began to get a funny feeling in his stomach. Like she knew his secrets. Like she could see into the depths of his soul and see every evil, awful thing he'd ever done. Finally, she said, “Bartender, waitress, cook...they're all pretty much connected in the restaurant business. And I've done them all. I still do, when the time calls for it.”

“So, back to my original question, you still dress for tips?”

She smiled, then laughed, and then shook her head at him, grinning beautifully. “No...I guess bad habits are hard to break,” she said automatically, and then her eyes went wide and she held her breath.