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You're leaving? Already?

Was it something I said? [he mutters to Paul. Then he runs after her...]

Wait up....you need a ride home?

At the corner? No way. I take a girl home, I take her home. How much did I drink? Not much...maybe four or five beers...hardly wet my tongue...come on...my Ute's over there...

Taxi? What for? It's not like I've been drinking...hop in, love...let's be shootin' through, eh?

[he drops her off at the inn. As she turns to go he calls her back]

Hey, love. Daffodil? Sorry, Daisy...no... Snowdrop? Christ, whatever bloody flower it is...you want to go riding tomorrow?

[Egan stands there watching her storm off]

I bloody love the way she talks...she's so gorgeous...Great legs...Wonder if O'Gallagher knows her right name?

[he lopes off without looking too bothered by Tulip's rejection...]

Continued from Steve's thread...


TulipFlower wrote: *Standing at the end of a cliff later. I like how the wind feels and I like the smell of the sea. Despite my vertigo I sit down close to the edge and try to calm down. But then suddenly I notice this nasty sliding sound...*


Egan can recognize a woman in trouble, so he hasn't let Tulip out of his sight. Not that he's not a bit irritated, mind you. After all, what exactly has he done except tease her about her name? He knows her name ... now. Woman just can't take a tease? She needs to loosen up.

Wait. What is she doing?

That's way too close to the edge of the cliff ...

And with that realization, Egan's at a dead run. He makes it there just in time to grasp the gravity of the situation as Tulip sinks down and sits in exactly the wrong place.

He reaches out and clasps a strong hand around her wrist just before Tulip slips out of his reach. He tugs her up with all his strength and as he gets her back over the lip of the cliff, he wraps his other arm around her waist and rolls with her well away from the edge.

Adrenalin courses through his body. He pulls Tulip to her feet; he's still gripping in on her wrist as he looks in her wide eyes. "What're you thinking, woman? You got a death wish, then?"

Tulip puts her hands out and grabs into his jacket front, her hands twisting into the fabric as she clutches to him. She opens her mouth but says nothing. Her hair is blown in every direction in the wind.

Egan cups her face in his hands. "Tulip? You in there, girl? Say something ... c'mon, beautiful. You're okay ... You're safe ... Tell me where you're staying and I'll see you home, how's that sound?"

Egan sinks down to one knee so he's about level with this girl. "What do you mean you're not safe?" he asks gently, his hand reaching out of its own volition to stroke her hair where it curls down her back. "Is there someone you're afraid of, Tulip?"

She's shivering now in the dank cold of another fog-bound night in Big Sur. It's a chill that gets into your bones if you're not used to the wetness of it. Egan slithers out of his heavy jacket and wraps it gently around Tulip's shoulders. With hands on her elbows, he helps her climb to her feet. Every protective instinct in his body comes roaring to the front -- first of all, he's just saved her life; then she's telling him she's not safe so she's obviously scared of someone; and now this final thing ... that as he guides her back toward the Inn's parking lot, he feels her lean her head into his shoulder.

"If there's someone you're scared of, Tulip, and you don't want to go back to wherever you're staying, I'd be glad to give you a safe place to stay tonight. You could come to my place -- it's nothing fancy but no one could get to you there -- I'd make sure of that."

Night closes around them after they turn off the main highway, heading for the house Egan shares with East on the ranch they own and work. Fog makes the headlights reflect and glow; Egan drives slowly, unwilling to do anything that may unnerve Tulip, who sits next to him in the cab. She's close enough that she slides against his thigh whenever the truck takes the turns wide. He is aware that her teeth are no longer chattering; the heater in this truck doing its job nicely. She gazes around, peering into the night. He takes this as a good sign -- that she's curious.

He stops the truck thne gets out to unlock the gate that keeps their spread secure from strangers. When he returns, he strains to see Tulip's outline beyond the glare of the headlights. Opening the door to climb back in, he looks up and sees her staring at him. He has the unmistakable feeling of being lost -- she knocks him off balance the way she looks at him so openly. Her lips ... he drops his eyes from her lips to keep himself in line. After all, he's offered her a safe haven -- she'd not feel too safe if he jumped on her, would she? But as his eyes drop, he can't help but notice the heavy outline of her breasts under her damp, clingy shirt. Egan swallows hard and hoists himself up into the driver's seat.

Once they're through the gate and he's latched it back securely, it's only a few more minutes winding around the hilly terrain until they come to the house. It's a bit fancier, bigger than anything he's owned before. He and East are proud of it. It's a large, cabin-like home with a wide veranda where they have chairs and even a hammock. Inside, it's two stories -- bedrooms up top, everything else on the main floor. He and East may be bachelors but they keep the place spotless. Both were raised to cherish the home -- and to care for what you've earned.

Egan opens Tulip's door and helps her down. He notes the way she's cradling one of her wrists still. He knows it's the one he wrenched as he pulled her away from the cliff and saved her life. Still -- a man hates to have hurt a woman, doesn't he?

Inside, he pauses awkwardly in the living room, watching Tulip look around, wondering what comes next.

"I'll just put the kettle on. Hot tea, with some whiskey -- think we could both do with some." Egan scoots out of the living room and escapes to the kitchen. While the water heats, he sneaks a peak at Tulip and finds himself charmed by the way she's examining the living room, that serious, curious way she has of gazing at objects. Her fingers graze across the spines of his books on the shelves. He sees her wince and rub her wrist.

Striding back into the liviing room, Egan announces softly, "Water'll be ready in a few tics. Let me see your wrist, Tulip ... maybe some first aid's called for, you think?"

He puts a hand out; Tulip lays her wrist across his palm. He strokes the skin. So soft. So fragile. It almost makes the breath catch in his throat. Women have such tiny bones. There's a bruise already forming. Nothing's broken, though.

Without thinking, he takes her good hand and leads her into the kitchen, where he seats her at the table. He fills a dishrag with ice and places it gently over the wrist. He's about to say something, anything - but then he looks in her eyes again and grows silent.

Egan's rescued by the whistle of the tea kettle. A few minutes later, he's placing mugs of hot tea on the table and a fifth of whiskey. He pours a healthy dollop of whiskey in each mug, stirs them with a spoon.

They sit sipping their tea and he wonders how she came to be here, in Big Sur. And why she had to have such pretty eyes.

"You don't pay any mind to my floors, Tulip. They've seen much worse. But I should've already got you a towel for your hair and your, um, clothes." Egan hops up to get her a towel from the hall closet. He hesitates as he's handing it to her; what he really wants is to be the one applying the towel to her body, to feel the response she'd have to him doing that to her. But he knows she's here seeking shelter, not to get pawed by some drover out to take advantage of her.

He grabs the mop from the pantry door and wipes it across the dampness that's dripped from her. He tries not to watch as she towel dries her hair. But she catches him at it. He shrugs. Her eyes glance at her empty cup and he takes the hint. Egan grabs a bottle from the cupboard and fills both mugs with bourbon. He drains his. His eyes crinkle in amusement when she also drains hers. He refills both cups. Again, they both drain them.

Egan looks at her, shaking his head. She gazes at him, placid. "You got a wooden leg, woman? Never would think a tiny thing like you'd be able to handle your drink like that. Well, think I'd better stop while I'm ahead. And before I get ideas you'd not be wanting me to have about you, think I'd best show you to a guest room for the night."