The Flyer Read Online Free PDF Page A

yet.
    “That’s some kind of a record, isn’t it?” Tim whistled.
    Paul pushed the noisy pipes out of his mind and focused his attention on Dr. Stanwood’s ramrod-straight back. Disappointed that she’d covered her nightdress, he focused on the fact her jacket hugged the curve of her hips rather nicely. The flowing gown covered her to her ankles, but his imagination conjured any number of unsuitable images. Including the curves beneath the folds and his lips on the back of her exposed neck. “No, mate. Dale still wins that one. It took over a hundred to close him up at Beersheba.” Paul sat upright and hid a wince.
    “You’ll need to spend the night here.” Dr. Stanwood—Helen—turned around and dried her hands on a small white towel. “In your condition, I don’t trust you not to reopen the wound.”
    “I haven’t had that much to drink.”
    “I disagree. If you’ll give me a moment, I’ll prepare the sleeping room for you.”
    “Don’t go to any trouble on my account. If I had a quid for every night I’ve spent sleeping off a shout of piss in Doc’s parlor, I’d be a wealthy man, wouldn’t I? No, I’ll find my way just fine.” He winked, then chuckled when her cheeks turned a soft shade of pink. Like a wild bloom in the desert.
    “A shout of piss? That’s a lovely image.”
    “Sorry. I think you Yanks would call it a round of drinks, if memory serves.”
    She smiled. Paul’s stomach clenched. “You’ve met many Americans, have you?”
    “A few, back during the war. And there’s a woman who lives just up the road apiece. She’s from your part of the world.”
    Helen’s eyes widened hopefully for barely a second. “I’ll make up the bed for you, just the same. It’s my job, you see.” She quickly scrubbed the items she’d placed in the sink and proceeded to wash the basin, as well. When she finished, she disappeared.
    “She’s a right sassy one, isn’t she?” Tim asked, propping himself on the edge of the examination table. “Wouldn’t mind sharing a few minutes of her time. Not at all.”
    “Annie would skin you alive, then feed you to a pack of dingos, mate.”
    Tim sighed. “I reckon she would at that. Pity,” he chuckled.
    Paul had no such obligations, however, and Tim was right. The new doc was something.
    The object of his friend’s considerable attention came back into the examination room, nodded to Tim, and smiled. “Are you ready?”
    “Always,” Tim answered, approaching the table.
    “What about you, Mr. Campbell? Are you ready?”
    For any number of things, love
. “As ready as I’ll ever be. Tim, I was just thinking.”
    “Thinking about what?”
    Paul admired the soft rise and fall of Helen’s breasts, as though she were out of breath, or perhaps a bit affected. He grinned. “Don’t you reckon I should invite Helen to come dancing with me?”
    Tim shook his head, chuckling quietly. With apparent effort, he sobered and nodded. “Rack off, mate. I saw her first, didn’t I?”
    “Only because I was half-dead. She’s my doctor, you bastard.”
    “Go on, then. She’s just as likely to go dancing with me as she is your sorry, damaged arse.”
    “That’s enough, boys. I’m not going dancing with anyone. It’s rather late for any sort of dancing, and you have had quite enough celebrating, Mr. Campbell. I suggest you allow us to help you find your bed. If your shoulder pains you in the morning, I’ll supply you with laudanum, or you can return to your haunt and drink another barrel of beer.”
    “I’m simply being neighborly,” Paul replied, feigning offense. In truth, he liked the slight rise of color in her cheeks as she scolded him, like a patient teacher sending her favorite, unruly student to sit in the corner. Something told him she wasn’t really offended, either.
    Skittish, yes. But never offended.
    He narrowed his eyes, bringing her features into clearer focus. “You’re new in town, right? And I’m just the man to show you around.