Page 73 of Without a Doubt

“Catherine, what I have told you about having Eva as a drinking buddy?” Glen shakes his head.

“Not to make her my drinking buddy, but no one else was here.” She shrugs and leans into Parker, who arrived a few minutes earlier.

“I really like him,” I whisper loudly to Emerson, who looks like he's trying to figure me out.

“Who?” he asks with a touch of suspicion.

“Parker. He's good for her. I missed you.”

“Drink, Eva,” Catherine says, pushing another shot over to me.

I lift it to my lips as Emerson says, “Hasn't she had enough for tonight?”

“We made a bet and I lost,” I explain. “She said I wouldn't be able to keep my hands off you when you showed up. I had to wait five minutes, I think, but I forgot when I saw you.” I shrug, resting my head on his shoulder.

Conversation picks up as the guys start talking about some game being shown on the TVs hung around the bar. I watch them interact with one another. Catherine and Parker are in their own world, but every now and then, something one of the guys will say drags him into the conversation. Emerson laughs, but not as much as he seems to do when he's with me.

I must be funnier.

Emerson has his hand on my lower back, his thumb occasionally moving back and forth. Such an innocent touch and he's probably not even paying attention to me, but it's turning me on. I slip my hand underneath his shirt and splay it over his stomach, which tenses immediately.

His head dips as he whispers, “What are you doing, Eva?”

I don't answer right away. My fingers trail a path up his chest and then back down, tracing an imaginary line right over the top of his jeans. He grabs my hand and removes it from underneath his shirt.

Before he can chastise me, which I'm sure he is about to do, I manage to whisper, “Is Sweet Irene a virgin?” God, I want him so much. I use my free hand to reach around and squeeze his butt. His eyes widen, nearly popping out of his head, and I start giggling uncontrollably. “Let's pop her cherry, Emerson. Please? Pretty please with a popped cherry on top?” My laughter draws the attention of those at our table.

“Okay, we're leaving.”

“Yes!”

“You need to pay for your drinks, Eva,” Catherine interjects.

“Oh, right.” I search through my purse, accidentally knocking it off the table in the process. “Damn it. Sorry.” Emerson picks it up for me, as well as the few things that fell out. “Thank you,” I mumble.

“I'll do it,” he says softly, like he needs to coax me or something. He calls the waitress over for the bill, shakes his head at what I managed to rack up before he could get here, and slips my card into the slot. By the time we're about ready to leave, I don't feel so good. My neck and head are burning up, so hot I wouldn't be surprised if I'm sweating, and my stomach feels funny. “You okay?” Emerson's face is suddenly in front of me and he looks concerned. It's so sweet.

I nod, even though I don't feel okay. He wraps an arm around my waist, holds onto my purse which makes me want to say a very long “aw,” and we walk outside.

“We took a cab,” I tell him.

“I know.”

“How?”

“Catherine told me a second ago.”

“Oh.” I should pay more attention. Emerson unlocks his truck and opens the door for me, tossing my purse inside with no concern over what may be inside. I glance at the seat I'm supposed to sit in. Did his truck get taller? It seems tall. I hear Emerson chuckle before his hands find my waist and he lifts me into the truck. Suddenly, I'm dizzy. Before I can warn him and as he's about to step away, I throw up. On Emerson. He glances down at himself, while I cover my mouth, absolutely horrified. “Oh my God. You're going to break up with me now, aren't you? I'm so sorry.”

He doesn't answer me. He simply sighs before closing my door, walking around, and get

ting into his truck. I apologize over and over. How many times can I embarrass myself in front of him? From running into his truck to blurting out I'm on my period to shoving him off to the bed to throwing up on him. When will it end?

“Eva, stop,” he interrupts as he parks at his apartment complex. “It's fine.”

It isn't. “But I took you away from hanging out with your friends and now you're taking care of me while I thank you by throwing up on you.”

Emerson gets out of the truck and comes over to me. He helps me down, looking at me for a moment before saying, “I don't mind taking care of you. I rather be the one who takes care of you than someone else.” He interlocks our hands, grabs my purse for me, and leads us inside. He deposits me on the couch. “I'm going to change and take a shower.” He kisses my temple and then he's gone.

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