Page 2 of Must Love Alligators

She clearly didn’t want company.

So why the fuck was he watching her, rather than focusing on the friendly, curvy blonde in front of him?Why did he know that Bailey was now on page six of whatever that was but he didn’t even remember the blonde’s name?Had she told him her name?

He made himself smile down at her.“Darlin’”—Yeah, he’d learned quickly that dropping those g’s and adding a little drawl, even to his definitely-not-Louisiana accent, had an effect on women—“I’d love nothin’ more than to fully study every one of your dermatomes, up close and personal.”

The blonde wrinkled her nose.“What’s a dermatome?”

Okay, maybe not the sexiest of the terms he could have pulled out.Then again, most of the actual terms for body parts weren’t all that hot.Plus, what he did know had come from undergrad anatomy and biology.He started med school in about a month.Maybe he’d learn some better stuff there.

As the wordshomunculusandbrachialandcarotidtripped through his mind, he thought,then again, maybe not.

He ran a single finger up the girl’s arm to her shoulder and she gave a cute little shiver.“A dermatome is an area of skin that’s innervated by the cutaneous branches of…” He looked at her puzzled expression and shook his head.“Never mind.Maybe we should talk about something else.”

“Or maybe we should stop talking,” she suggested.

That was a good idea.He didn’t need to be thinking about all of this right now.Medical school was going to consume all of his time, thoughts, and energy soon enough.He glanced over at Mitch Landry, the guy who’d—for some reason—taken Chase under his wing these past several days.Mitch lived and worked along the bayou, helping out at Boys of the Bayou and, as far as Chase could tell, living a life that was full of beer, fishing, beautiful women, and a big, boisterous family.Chase wouldn’t lie—he kind of wanted to be Mitch.

Too bad Chase’s sister, Juliet, had made him want to be a doctor since he was about eight.He’d asked for a model brain for Christmas when he was ten and it had come with a full-color book.He’d been hooked and his path had been set.

Which was fortunate.Otherwise, he would have ended up in business with their father like their older brothers had and likely would have turned into a giant, selfish dickhead like they had, too.

Medicine was an acceptable alternative in their father’s eyes, so Chase had mostly been left alone about his decision.And, mostly, saved from becoming a dickhead.Though Juliet had needed to intervene a few times in that regard.Hence why he was in Autre, Louisiana, during the hottest part of the freaking year after his fraternity brothers had gone back home after their week trip to New Orleans.

Chase and his buddies had stolen an airboat from Boys of the Bayou and, not knowing the first thing about driving an airboat—or the fact that airboats didn’t have brakes—had crashed the damned thing into one of the tour company’s docks.So Juliet, being Juliet, had dragged him back to Autre with a pledge to rebuild the dock.With her help.Not that either of them knew a damned thing about building a dock.But Juliet Dawson never let a little thing like lack of knowledge or experience stop her.

Much to Chase’s amazement, and relief, the Landry family had actually been very cool with them both and instead of treating Chase like someone who’d stolen from them and wreaked havoc on their business, they’d welcomed him, taught him about building, and a hell of a lot more.They’d taught him Cajun culture, Louisiana history, and the true meaning of family and friendship.

The blonde moved closer, sliding her arms around Chase’s waist and pressing her breasts against his chest.Automatically Chase’s hands found her ass.She put her lips against his neck.“Let’s get out of here.”

Five of the best words a gorgeous woman could say to a man.

Stupidly, however, Chase’s gaze again went to Bailey Wilcox.

Why?Why, why, why?

He only knew who she was because a couple of nights ago a few of her co-workers were here, too.Mitch knew them because they routinely patrolled the bayou.They’d all had a beer together and talked for a while.

Except Bailey.She’d just sat there, listening, chewing on her bottom lip, and sipping her beer.There was nothing about her that should have caught his attention.She’d been in her work clothes that night, too.She was pretty enough.In a natural, low-maintenance, I’ve-never-even-heard-of-Sephora way.But she was quiet, maybe even shy, and hadn’t said a peep.

Then she’d spilled her beer down her front.

On purpose.

For some reason, Chase had been watching her that night, too.He had no idea what it was about her that drew him, but if he hadn’t been watching, he wouldn’t have seen the way her glass “accidentally” tipped over, sending beer into her lap.

It had been right after one of her co-workers, a guy named Heath, had said something about his last hunting trip.

She’d shot up from her chair, made some bumbling excuse and apology, and then disappeared.Chase had gone after her a few minutes later, to see if she was all right.Or something.He still wasn’t entirely clear on what he’d been intending.It was beer, and she was a grown woman.He didn’t think she actually needed his help.And what was he going to do?Head into the women’s restroom with a towel?

He’d caught up with her just as she was at the front door, leaving.When he’d asked if she was okay, she’d frowned as if she had no idea what he was talking about and as if she wasn’t sure who he was.

“I’m fine.”

“You sure?”But why wouldn’t she have been okay?It was beer, not acid or even hot coffee.And she was clearly on her way home.She had her car keys in hand and, if he wasn’t mistaken, was holding them in a way that could easily make them a weapon if needed.Against him.He’d taken a step back.

“I’m completely sure.”

“You spilled that beer on purpose,” he’d pointed out.For some reason.

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