Dirty Talk: A Bad Boy Romance (Bluefield Bad Boys Book 2)

by Tess Oliver

  “Dawz, it’s crazy out there. The girls walked in. I saw Andi. Go out there and make sure they’re all right.”

  “I saw Kellan round them up just before things got crazy. They’re fine. You, on the other hand, look like that giant chewed you up and spit you out.” He pushed open the door. We stepped inside of the cement room. Two metal benches, a table and some beat up lockers had earned it the title of locker room.

  Blood dripped onto my chest from my face. I wasn’t even sure of the source because everything hurt. “Nailed that sucker good.” My words sounded a little slurred as if I’d just gulped down a bottle of whiskey. A grin caused my entire face to ache. “Ah shit, guess he nailed me good too.” I pressed my fingers against one of the blood sources, a deep cut on my chin beneath my beard.

  A locker door slammed shut. Dawson carried over a tin box that Scott had kept handy for first aid. Dawson crouched down in front of me. His nose wrinkled up. “You look like shit.” He lifted his hand. “How many fingers, dude?”

  “Three. I hope.”

  “Yeah. What day is it?”

  “Fight day?” I asked, stalling for time.

  “Can you be a little more specific.”

  He handed me a wad of gauze. I pushed it against the geyser I’d been plugging up with my finger. I squinted down at him. “Did we work today?”

  “Shit, Tommy, maybe—”

  “No, wait, we did. Friday. It’s definitely Friday night.” There was a hasty knock on the door.

  Dawson looked up at me. “Couldn’t be that beast you fought. The knock sounded too sweet.” The door opened. That same flash of red, the red that’d caught and held my attention in the middle of the fight, splashed in the doorway.

  Andi stepped confidently into the room. “Oh my god, that’s all I can say. No, I take that back. Holy fucking hell, you guys are nuts. There. Now, that’s all I can say.” She marched over and yanked the tin box of supplies from Dawson’s hand. “Now get out. I need to concentrate and examine him, and I don’t need you lurking around being unhelpful.”

  “Fine, Miss Bossy. And I’m not unhelpful.” Dawson looked at me for confirmation.

  “He’s been a regular Florence—shit, what’s her name?”

  “You mean that lady from the insurance commercials?” Dawson asked.

  I laughed but stopped short when I remembered the pounding my ribs had taken. I waved my hand at Dawson. “She’s right. You’re not helpful. Besides, I want to be alone with my hot, bossy nurse.”

  “Yeah, real funny,” Dawson said, clearly deciding my comment was sarcasm.

  It really hadn’t been. Apparently, I’d been knocked around enough to make me say shit out loud that was normally just circulating in my head.

  “I’m leaving. See if you can stitch his mouth shut too.” Dawson stopped and lifted a brow at his sister. “What the hell are you wearing?”

  “Jeez, Dawson, you sound just like Dad. It’s called a dress. Now get out.”

  “Yeah, Dawz, get out. I need tending to.” I attempted a wink, just to irritate him, but it was too painful.

  Dawson got to the door just as Kellan poked his head inside. “Is he still alive?”

  “Hey, Kel, I pulled that tooth out,” I called to him.

  Kellan pushed into the room. “You sure as fuck did. That guy left here still trying to figure out how he ran his head into a train in the middle of a fight ring.” He walked over to give me a fist bump. “Damn, Huck, you look awful. Your beard is blood red.”

  “Yep. Got my personal doctor waiting on the sidelines.”

  “Yes, and this personal doctor is running out of patience.”

  “No, you’re not. Your patient is right here.” I swayed back and she grabbed my arm to steady me.

  “I meant patience not—” She waved her hand in frustration and herded Dawson and Kellan out the door. She slapped it shut behind them. Then she turned around and landed with her hands on hips pose. “Jeez, Tommy, am I ever going to be done taking care of you?”

  I considered the question for a long moment. “Sure hope not.”

  I was hurt and not thinking straight. Except for the pain and blood, the buzz in my head felt like a really good high that was wiping away any inhibitions. My normally tied tongue was flapping and not giving a damn what was coming out of my mouth. I dropped my gaze down along Andi’s body. Long, smooth and silky legs stretched out below a very short hem. “Damn, Sulli. That dress.”

  She shook her head trying to act annoyed, but a blush darkened her cheeks. “So, is that a yea or a nay on the dress? Can’t tell.” She began cleaning the cut on my chin.

  “Definitely a yea. And it’s giving me all kinds of fucking ideas. Ideas that are just as bad as they are good, if you catch my drift.”

  She laughed. “Actually, I don’t, but that’s all right. You seem a little punch drunk, so I’ll have to forgive everything you say tonight.”

  Her touch was confident and gentle and healing. I always felt better the second she was near.

  “Wish I had a razor to shave off some of this beard. I won’t be able to bandage it properly.”

  She placed the bloody gauze on the bench next to me. “I’d better check your pupils.” She positioned herself directly in front of me. The breath froze solid in my chest as I gazed at the round swell of her breasts, rising and falling just above the low neckline of her dress. The throbbing in my head became the blood pulsing through my veins as I thought about lifting that skimpy red dress up above her panties and taking her right there against the wall of the locker room.

  Andi leaned down and stared into my eyes. She lifted her hand to push my hair from my face. I caught her by the wrist. She took a quick breath and stared wide-eyed at me. I brought her hand to my mouth and kissed her wrist, never pulling my gaze from hers.

  Reluctantly, I released her hand. “I might be punch drunk, but there’s one thing that always stays solid in my head and my heart.”

  Her breasts rose and fell faster. “What’s that?” she asked breathlessly.

  “It’s you, Sulli.”

  Chapter 15

  Andi

  I concentrated on my task. There was no reason to over-think what Tommy had said. He was hurting and from the bruising on his face, he’d taken more than a few hits to the head. I’d been lucky enough to only witness a few seconds of the fight, a terrifying few moments, but I was thankful for missing most of it.

  My own reaction to what he’d said was more of a puzzle. I’d felt the weight of it in my chest as if my true feelings had been buried deep inside, and his words had nearly set them free. I quickly tamped down my emotions. Tommy was impossible to tame and nothing but heartbreak and trouble. The last thing I needed. The stress of the evening and fight with Gary had obviously left me vulnerable.

  I’d pictured myself fleeing the party and Gary like Cinderella in a fairy tale, but a long ride home in a graffiti scarred, sweaty smelling bus had cleared my head of the martinis. I hadn’t been Cinderella at all. I’d stomped angrily out like the teenager Gary had compared me to. It would be hard facing him at work. It seemed that our relationship was coming to a natural and predictable end. I was all right with that. I would miss him but not in the way I’d miss a true love, a soul mate. A handsome, successful doctor was a pretty good score on the boyfriend spectrum, but it was a shallow reason to stay with someone. My mom and sisters would be far more heartbroken than me.

  Tommy sat as silent as stone, staring at my face and not uttering one word, as I tended to his cuts and bruises. I put on my best nurse expression as I finished cleaning the cut on his chin. “These first aid supplies are not exactly sufficient for a place with backroom fighting. I think you’re going to have a scar.” I spoke faster than usual, more to ease the heated silence between us than anything. I leaned back. “I suppose it won’t hinder your success with the women though. There’s still enough of the handsome Tommy left to make up for an unsightly scar. In fact, knowing most women, and being one myself, the
scar will probably only add to your sex appeal.”

  A short laugh shook his broad shoulders. “You think I’ve got sex appeal, Sulli?” It seemed, he too, had decided to ignore his earlier confession. It was entirely possible he wouldn’t remember it, or the entire night, for that matter.

  “I guess you’ve got a smidgen of sex appeal, in a rough, gritty kind of way.”

  “Did you just say smidgen? Shit, that’s cute. I’m not surprised. You always did cute without even trying.”

  “Cute? I was kind of hoping I’d grown out of cute.” I reached forward with a piece of gauze soaked with antibacterial cream and rubbed it along a cut on his ear.

  “You did, Sulli. But the cute still shows itself once in awhile. And I still like it just the way I used to when you’d be lecturing us guys for skateboarding down gnarly hills without helmets.” His warm breath tickled the side of my face as he spoke. “You were cute but tough. You cared. I liked that best of all. Like now.” He was rambling a bit, but it was nice to have his usual hard exterior disappear for awhile. The guy underneath always knew just what to say.

  I lowered the gauze and smiled weakly as I placed the supplies back in the tin. “Some habits are hard to break.” I closed up the first aid box. “That’s all I can do with the measly supplies and primitive surroundings.” I looked at him. “Tommy, I think it wouldn’t hurt for you to go to urgent care and have a real doctor check you out. My skills are limited, as I’ve been told tonight.”

  “What? Now what asshole would say a thing like that?”

  “Turns out that two Cosmopolitans was all I needed to loosen up my tongue. I gave a group of doctors a lecture about bedside manners, and my boy—” I cleared my throat. “The man I’ve been dating didn’t take too kindly to it. Might just have called it quits with Dr. Douchebag tonight.”

  “Good. He doesn’t deserve you. And as far as bedside manners go, you’re a fucking expert.” Unexpectedly he wrapped his arm around me and pulled me closer between his legs. We were close enough for a kiss. My mind went right to the idea of what it might feel like to be kissed by the notorious Tommy Sawyer. Something told me it wouldn’t disappoint.

  I had no idea where his hand ended and my dress began. Heat melted the fabric against my skin. A shiver went through me, a shiver that assured me I wanted that kiss more than I’d first realized.

  Tommy’s eyes darkened as he stared at me from below a dark curtain of lashes. His face was bandaged, but he still looked extraordinarily handsome, almost more so because the bandages added that dangerous, unpredictable quality that made him so darn appealing. Then it flashed through my mind, the vision of Tommy sweeping me into his arms and taking me right there on the bench in the middle of the dismal locker room.

  “Andi,” his voice was gravelly and deep, “I think—”

  The door swung open. He dropped his hold instantly.

  “Scott has your money. Kellan and I think you should take us all out for steaks.” Dawson walked up next to us, seemingly unaware that a heated and rather confusing moment had just passed between Tommy and me.

  “After all, without our support, we might just be mopping you up off the fight mat right now,” Dawson continued, unabated by the tense silence between us.

  Tommy finally pulled his gaze from mine. “Your support? Fuck. Whatever.” He looked at me again. “Feeling like a steak, Sulli? My treat, apparently.”

  The earlier sensual tension was gone. Dawson had obliterated it with his presence. He was my brother and Tommy’s best friend and just another good, strong reason why the notion of Tommy and me together was ridiculous.

  “You really should see a doctor.”

  “Nah, I’m fine. Dawz will keep an eye on me. If he sees me acting funny, he can take me to urgent care.”

  “If that’s supposed to make me feel at ease, I assure you, it doesn’t. But you guys go eat your steaks. I’ve had a long night. I’m taking myself and my little red dress home. With any luck, Dad will be sleeping already, so I won’t have to endure a lecture about my questionable wardrobe.”

  Chapter 16

  Andi

  Her hand was small, a little girl’s hand that was probably just this morning, pulling a dress on a doll, or maybe, as the dirt under her little nails might indicate, tossing a football to her friend. For now, her hand was still warm. At some point during the frantic chaos as the trauma team tried desperately to restore her vitals, she’d reached out for something. Most likely the terrified, distraught mother pacing the trauma waiting room. I’d put my hand in hers, and she curled her little fingers around mine as if she was anchoring herself to this world.

  Whatever she’d been doing this morning was no longer important. One bad turn around a busy corner on her bicycle and her thoughts of dolls or footballs or all the fun things little girls thought about were gone.

  Doctor Young, a wonderful doctor, a woman with three children of her own, worked feverishly at trying to breathe life back into her little patient. The frenzy had died down in the room. It had been twenty minutes since the line went straight on the heart monitor. We all knew she was gone. The doctor knew too, but she refused to stop. A bleak feeling of regret overtook me as I thought about how I’d chided the doctors standing in that circle at the party.

  I was the first to lose a sob and others followed. It wasn’t protocol. It wasn’t even usual, but delicate Trini looked so small and frail lying on the hospital bed, her long curly lashes shadowing her now sallow cheeks. Her mother’s cries shattered the somber silence in the room.

  Dr. Garcia, the second doctor in the room, placed a firm hand on Dr. Young’s shoulder as she leaned down over the girl for one more breath. “You need to call it, Gina,” he said quietly.

  I hadn’t realized how tightly I was still gripping her hand until I uncurled my fingers. The hand that had reached out for support, to keep a hold on this life, now felt soft and rubbery. No more grip. No more dolls. No more footballs or holding hands with her first crush, or cuddling a puppy or a newborn baby. One moment in time had gone completely wrong and she was taken from this world and her mom. It was almost harder to think of the poor woman down the hall.

  I got up and left the room, taking a cowardly route away from the waiting room where the mom waited. My face and tears would have given it away, the horrible news that awaited her. It was another part of a doctor’s job that made them courageous. It made them stalwart and when I thought about it, it gave them every reason not to become too cozy and chummy with patients. They needed to be built of steel. I was feeling even more ashamed about my lecture. They were now words that I would have given anything to take back.

  I hadn’t seen or talked to Gary since the party. Our shifts had not crossed paths. As relieved as I’d felt about it, now I had the urge to call him and apologize. It had been a long, rough day, and I needed to talk. He was, generally, a good listener, and he understood about the trials of working in the emergency room.

  I headed into the locker room and went straight to the restroom to wash my face. The cool water helped. I walked to my locker and reached inside for my phone. There was a text from Tommy. He rarely ever texted or called. My heart raced ahead, thinking something might have gone wrong at the mine.

  Bracing myself for possible bad news, I rubbed my thumb to open the text.

  “Chin looks and feels better and I’m sitting here on my break in the middle of a cloud of float dust thinking about that damn red dress.”

  I smiled and stared down at the text. Tommy was no longer loopy from being hit, and he was absolutely flirting with me. It sent an unexpected thrill through me. It wasn’t awkward or unwanted. It made me want to flirt right back. What could a little harmless sexting do between two old friends? Besides, after my terrible morning, I was in need of a little diversion.

  The text was two hours old. I was sure he was back on the rails, filling coal cars, but I decided to leave him with a counter flirt.

  “It’s not the red dress but what’s beneath th
e dress that matters. #racyhotpanties.” I’d never sent a text like that to anyone. Somehow, sending it to Tommy had made it that much more taboo and that much more fun.

  I startled when my phone rang in my hand. For a second, my mind raced with what I might say to Tommy and how I would possibly speak without melting into a giggling school girl. The call was from Gary. The steamy blush on my cheeks dissipated and reality returned.

  “Hello,” I said rather meekly, not completely sure he’d forgiven me. “I was just about to call you,” I added. “I need to apologize for the other night. I had no right to criticize your friends.” I decided just to blurt it all out at once, to get it over with.

  A long pause was followed by an arrogant sounding sigh, which immediately got my hackles up. “Just so long as you know that you were completely wrong.”

  “I don’t know if I was completely wrong. But there was an incident today. I watched Dr. Young work hard to save a little girl.” My voice wavered as the entire tragic scene came back to me. “We lost the little girl. For a moment, I was convinced Dr. Young was just going to breakdown and climb onto the bed next to the little girl.” I sniffled into the phone. It wasn’t an overt show of emotion. It was more of a release. The job came with so much stress that a little release was needed now and then to keep from going mad.

  “Andi, you need to pull yourself together. Where are you?” I hated the crisp, cold way he was talking to me.

  “Why? I’m in the locker room. I just needed a few minutes to regroup. And I wanted to let you know that I was sorry about the party. What were you calling about?”

  He paused again.

  “Gary?”

  “I just think maybe this isn’t working out. I put your things in a box. I’ll set them on my front stoop if you want to pick them up sometime.”

  I stared at the wall across the way. Strangely enough, I began reading the steps to take when someone was choking. It was a sign I’d read before, but, suddenly, it struck me as a funny sign for the locker room. The cafeteria would have been a better place.