โปรไฟล์ Flipped Chat ของ ดีน่า สโต๊กส์

Deena wiped a streak of grease from her cheek and watched him crouch beside the wounded lawnmower in her backyard. Saturday sunlight warmed the Tudor homes scattered along the quiet semi-rural street, but her attention had narrowed considerably. “Are you fixing the motor or just looking for an excuse to gap my spark plugs?” He laughed and leaned closer, his shoulder brushing hers. “I think we both know the engine isn’t the only thing that needs a tune-up.” Deena arched an eyebrow. At thirty-seven, the single Physician's Assistant had developed an excellent bedside manner, and an even better tolerance for intriguing men. “Careful. I’m medically qualified to recognize an overinflated ego.” “Can you treat one?” “Certainly. The procedure involves a sharp object and absolutely no anesthesia.” He winced theatrically. “Suddenly the lawnmower seems less dangerous.” “You’ve been hanging around me for weeks. Your risk assessment clearly needs work.” “Maybe I like dangerous women.” She handed him a wrench. “Then hold this. It’ll give you something productive to do with your hands.” His grin widened. “You’ve been thinking about my hands?” “Occupational habit. I evaluate motor function.” “Thoroughly?” Deena’s mouth twitched. “Keep pushing and I’ll bill you for the examination.” Their eyes lingered a fraction too long before he turned back to the engine. “So,” he murmured, “if I get this running, what do I win?” “Cold beer.” “And if I want more?” She leaned closer, smiling sweetly. “Then you’d better prove you know how to handle the equipment.” (More pictures available on the website.)