Page 23 of Under My Skin

Chapter Twenty-Three

LUCY

When I ordered my second mule, I felt fine. If anything, I was questioning the strength of the drink, but it tasted great, so I ordered another one. I look down at the copper mug on the high-top table in front of me, only half empty at this point. Or half full? I’d like to think it’s half full.

Turns out I may just have a delayed response to liquor.

I don’t drink much, but I’m usually not this much of a lightweight.

Allison and I used to have our wine nights, but those were typically in the apartment, and they were few and far between.

I might have a glass of red with dinner or a beer with takeout, but vodka? Not so much.

I’m not drunk, but I’m buzzed. I’m giddy, and it’s making me question if I should finish this one. On one hand, it’s doing a great job at making me lighter about the whole parent situation. Bravo, Little Blue Mule That Could. On the other hand, I need to be responsible. I need to stay focused.

“What do you think, Luce?”

My head snaps up to find Everett’s warm eyes on me. I swear, they’re like molasses. Or honey? Definitely a dark honey. Why does he have to look like that and have those eyes? I don’t stand a chance .

“About what?” I sit up straight and try to put on my best sober face.

His lips lift in amusement, and I know I’m busted. “Do you think Troy should get another chance to lock up on his own?”

“The shop?” I ask, still not sure why this is a topic of conversation.

Everett’s eyes crinkle as he lets out a breath of laughter. “Yeah, the shop.”

I look over at Troy to find him grinning at me like a toddler who wants a piece of candy. “Of course,” I answer easily. Gesturing toward him, I add, “Look at that face.”

Everett groans and drops his head, but when he looks up again, he’s still smiling. “All right,” he says to Troy. “I’ll give you another shot, but if I walk into that shop with anything other than tattoo equipment waiting for me, you’re done.”

Toni leans back with her arms crossed. “This should be good.”

Troy tosses back the rest of his beer. “I won’t let you down.” He lifts his glass and looks around the table. “Another round?”

“I’m down,” Simon finishes his beer, too.

“I’m heading out, but you can keep my tab open. Just close out before you leave.” Everett gets to his feet.

“Can I come with you?” I blurt.

All eyes turn to me, and my cheeks warm.

“What? It’s not like I’m going to let this lunatic drive me anywhere else tonight.” I gesture toward my brother and the two empty glasses in front of him as opposed to the one in front of Everett. I haven’t seen him drink anything since we first got here.

Everett rubs the back of his neck. “Uh, sure.” His eyes jump to Simon like he’s not sure if this is okay.

Simon’s brows furrow as he looks at me. “You want to leave now? I can just take you home later.”

Troy chimes in. “I have my car, too. If you don’t want to be someone’s backpack.”

As tempting as it is to ride home in a car, I don’t know Troy. The thought of being alone with him has the hairs on the back of my neck standing up even though he seems like a nice enough guy.

“That’s okay. I’m tired. It’s been a long day.” Not to mention the thought of wrapping my arms around Everett again has my entire body tingling.

Simon’s eyes jump between Everett and me, but eventually he just shrugs. “Suit yourself. I’ll see you when I get back.”

Getting up from my stool, I point a finger at him and give him a leveling look. “Drive safe.” My eyes dart to the empty glasses in front of him again, and I add, “Order a pretzel or something.”

His eyes widen. “Oh, yeah. I need to get that girl’s number.”

He cranes his neck to get a good view of the bar, and I wave a hand in front of his face. “Did you hear me? Order food.”

Simon swats me away, still trying to get a good look at the girl who took his order hours ago. “Yeah, yeah. I will.”

Everett pulls his jacket over his shoulders, and I sigh before giving up on my brother and saying goodbye to everyone.

“You’re sure about riding on the back of a bike?” Troy asks, and a flicker of annoyance flashes in Everett’s eyes.

“Quit trying to cage her, Troy. She’ll be fine.” Everett mutters.

My eyes linger on Everett, but only for a moment before turning back to Troy and echoing Everett’s last words with a reassuring smile. “I’ll be fine.”

Everett heads for the exit, and I pick up my pace to catch up with him. “What did you mean? Cage me?”

“The car,” he answers without looking at me. “It’s like a cage.”

I nod even though I still don’t fully understand. As I follow him through the crowded bar, I tug on the sleeve of my sweater, the guilt of asking for a ride tickling the back of my mind. “I’m sorry,” I say, even though I’m not sure why the words spill out of me.

Everett slows so we can walk side by side. Glancing at me, he cocks an eyebrow. “For? ”

“Inviting myself to ride home with you?” I ask, assuming this is another small burden for him.

A faint smile pulls at the corner of his mouth. “Don’t be. I take it as a compliment.”

Something eases inside me. Maybe the air between us isn’t awkward. Maybe it was just the vodka trying to pull one over on me.

Everett pushes the door open, and the crisp night air chills me through the tiny holes of my sweater. My arms instinctively cross, and I hug myself as we walk to where his dark bike waits for us.

As soon as we reach it, he shrugs off his jacket and hands it to me. “Here.”

I shake my head. “No way. I’ll be fine.”

“Luce.”

“You’re wearing short sleeves!” I gesture toward him. “I’m not taking your jacket.” If anything, I think the cold might help sober me up, but I’m not about to tell him that.

“And if you’re cold now, what do you think will happen with the wind when we’re driving on the main road?”

My eyes narrow. “And if we crash, what do you think will happen to your arms when they’re dragged against the main road?”

Amusement flashes in his features. “Well, I’m going to try very hard not to do that.”

I hold his stare, not backing down.

Everett steps toward me until I’m forced to look up at him. “Look, I appreciate the concern. It’s flattering, really.” He opens the jacket and puts it around my shoulders. “But I’m not asking.”

The scent of leather meshes with the woodsy smell of him, and it’s enough to make my knees go weak. Add the way he’s holding my stare, and I might as well collapse right here in my vodka-induced state.

“Fine.” I shrug my arms through the sleeves. “Happy now?” I ask, with my arms outstretched. His jacket is huge on me, the sleeves going past my wrists .

A warm, deep chuckle leaves him. “Very.” Getting on his bike, he pulls his helmet over his head and starts the engine.

Damn, he looks good. My eyes wander over the intricately inked lines on his arms, taking in every curve of lean muscle along the way.

He beckons me to come forward, and my heart pounds in my chest.

I didn’t think I could be more terrified to get on a motorcycle than I was this morning. I was practically hyperventilating. But the thought of riding the roads late at night, in the dark, while I have a decent amount of vodka in my system, definitely takes the cake.

“What are you doing?” Everett asks, his head tilting.

I’m bouncing on my toes slightly and shaking out my arms like Rocky about to go into the ring.

I still my feet, but my arms still have some nerves they’re trying to shake out. “Trying to build up some courage, I think.”

Everett laughs again, and it does something to ease the adrenaline running through my veins. “Would you come here? You look ridiculous.”

I have no doubt he’s right. Taking a steadying breath, I force my feet forward. When I reach him, I jolt as he grasps one of my hands hidden beneath the sleeve of his jacket.

“You’re going to be fine,” he says absently as he works on cuffing my sleeve. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

His head tilts upward like he’s looking at me for confirmation, so I nod.

Moving to the other arm, he does the same thing. “We aren’t far from the apartment, and I promise to take things slow.”

I’m not sure if it’s the vodka or the phrasing of those last words, but this suddenly feels a lot more intimate than it did this morning.

Heat warms low in my stomach at the thought of what else he might be able to take slowly.

It’s been so long since I’ve felt this much of a physical reaction from someone that I almost don’t recognize what it is, but Everett Meyers is definitely turning me on.

The realization spikes new panic. I was attracted to him, that much is obvious.

But the sudden urge I have to act on that attraction is both terrifying and tempting in equal parts.

He helps with my helmet and then points to where I’m supposed to put my foot, so I mimic what we did this morning. Gripping his shoulder for support, I hoist myself up and over the bike. The warm rumble of the engine beneath me brings back the familiar edge of fear, and I try to breathe through it.

Turning in his seat, Everett helps put his spare helmet over my head. He makes sure it’s snug, and I give him a thumbs up once it’s on well enough.

He faces forward, and I wrap my arms around his waist. This morning, his jacket created a thicker barrier between my hands and his stomach, but with nothing but a black shirt between my fingers and his skin, I’m keenly aware of the muscular frame that lies beneath.

Everett revs the bike a few times, and I hold on a little tighter at the rush of sound. He makes riding this thing seem effortless with how seamlessly he pulls out of the parking lot and merges onto the main road.

After a few minutes of driving, we’re far enough away from the busy traffic, and I can finally relax a little. I no longer feel like every car we pass is going to surely cause my untimely demise—mostly because there aren’t many cars around at this point.

The light in front of us turns from green to yellow, and Everett slows the bike to a stop.

He probably could have made it. If I were driving my car, I would have gone for it.

But the fact that he didn’t has my heart fluttering in ways it shouldn’t.

My arms loosen around him, but only a little.

Only enough for my fingers to lightly graze over the material of his T-shirt, reminding me of the abs that lie beneath.

Heart pounding in my chest, I let my fingers roam, following the path of my own mildly-drunken temptation lower.

And a little lower.

And lower still .

His body is completely still, and I wonder if he can feel the pounding of my heart beating against his back.

He lets me explore, but when I reach the waistband of his jeans, Everett’s head falls forward.

He stays like that for a moment, and I wonder if he’s looking at my hands.

I wonder if he likes seeing me touch him.

Hesitantly, I move my hands to his upper thighs, but he covers them with his before moving them back to his stomach. The light turns green, and I expect him to let go, but he doesn’t. Keeping one gloved hand over both of mine, he kicks the bike into gear and pulls through the light.

Heat flushes my cheeks, my chest, my core.

I can’t believe I just did that. I can’t believe I was so reckless.

My thoughts threaten to spiral, but the only thing keeping me grounded is Everett’s hand resting on mine.

It’s probably to make sure I behave for the rest of the ride home, but his thumb gently brushing back and forth over the top of mine makes it easier to breathe.