Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 54343 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 272(@200wpm)___ 217(@250wpm)___ 181(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54343 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 272(@200wpm)___ 217(@250wpm)___ 181(@300wpm)
Jogging across the pavement, Street headed for the medical building. He walked in to see a couple of guys already in seats waiting for appointments. Street headed for the desk to sign in.
“Don’t even bother. Come back here,” Razor called.
“Fuck,” Street swore under his breath and set the pen down. Turning, he joined Razor at one of the exam room doors.
Razor waved him inside, pointing at the exam table. The MC’s doctor closed the door and turned to scan him. “What happened?”
“I spaced out. Totally a jerk move. I was distracted. I’ll concentrate completely from now on.”
“What were you thinking about?” Razor asked. He always seemed to see more than Street wanted. Razor had two doctorates in medicine and psychology.
“Stupid stuff. I have no excuse.”
“I see. Look at the chart and read the smallest line you can see out loud,” Razor instructed.
“N, C, O, L, B.”
“Good. Cover your left eye and tell me the letters again.”
“N, C, O, L, B,” Street repeated.
“Right eye. Try the lower line.”
“L, T, P, A, Z.”
“Perfect. Your vision is fine. Ready to share why you’re worried about Rosa?” Razor asked, pulling over a rolling tray with tubes and other supplies. He picked up a rubber strap.
Street straightened his elbow with a sigh. “You know too much.”
Razor simply looked up at him and nodded before checking his arms for a good vein. “Make a fist.”
The doctor had gloved up, put on the tourniquet, and drawn two vials of blood before Street spoke. “Rosa had a bad night. One of many, I’m afraid. And I was a jerk who scared her more than comforting her.”
“Having made a deliberate choice based on knowledge?”
Street shook his head. “I didn’t have a clue. Wraith’s description of Rosa’s living situation combined with her disturbed sleep last night helped me figure out something happened to her.”
“Of course she’s running from problems. Rosa hasn’t always lived in poverty.”
“Really? How did you figure that out?” Street asked, staring at Razor in disbelief.
“Mannerisms, speech, actions. She’ll tell you her story when she trusts you enough. If she needs to talk through anything, I’m here. Sometimes, it’s easier to speak with someone you don’t lust after.”
Street scowled at him, torn between happiness that Razor had picked up on Rosa’s interest in him and the protectiveness that Razor had noticed Rosa was female. He knew being jealous was ridiculous. Razor was completely wrapped up in his Little girl, Honey.
“You’ve got it bad,” Razor said as he unfastened the tie around Street’s upper arm. “Pee in this cup.”
“What are you testing for?” Street asked.
“I’m checking to see if something is lingering in your system. Most drugs should have dissipated in less than twenty-four hours. If something is still lingering in your bloodstream, I need to pinpoint it. You haven’t taken any meds I don’t know about, right?”
“No.” Street didn’t do drugs. He’d worked too hard to get into the Devil Daddies and to master the heavy machinery they needed him to run. Plus, Street didn’t like being out of control.
“I’m sending you home for another day. I’ll rush these results and you should be cleared for tomorrow,” Razor told him, holding the cup out again.
“Fine,” Street said, taking the cup.
“Fill the container here so there are no questions.”
“Fuck,” Street said, sliding off the exam table. He quickly unzipped, pissed, capped, and set the container down with a thud on the rolling tray as Razor casually labeled the vials he’d drawn from Street.
“Wash your hands and go check on that Little girl.”
“Thank you, Razor,” Street said at the door when he reached the barrier.
“Come back with your head screwed on right,” Razor told him.
Street nodded and headed out. Another day with Rosa was just what he needed. Who was he kidding? He wanted a lifetime.
Roaring up to his house a few moments later, Street triggered the garage door opener and reversed his cycle into one side. He walked into the kitchen and heard an unmistakable sound. Rosa was singing. Horribly and off-key. At the top of her lungs. Enchanted by the cute fun-loving side he suspected she never revealed to others, Street unfastened his work boots as fast as possible and left them on the mat by the door. He hoped she’d trust him enough to share this protected side of her.
Grinning from ear to ear, Street went exploring. The spare room was empty. She wasn’t in the guest bathroom. His bed was neatly made up, and her clean clothes he’d left on the dresser where she would see them hadn’t moved.
“Rosa? I’m home.”
“Street? Oh, my God. I’m in the bathtub.”
“Did you use bubbles?” he asked.
After a brief pause, Rosa answered tentatively, “Yes.”
“Good.” Street strode inside and leaned against the wall to memorize the sight of Rosa in the middle of a foamy explosion. Her hair was in a messy bun on top of her head. She looked absolutely adorable and utterly fuckable.