by Susan Stoker
“I know all about his amnesia.” Ruth smirked. “One of my coworkers is married to someone on post, who heard about it from one of the nurses at Darnall Army Medical Center. Truck doesn’t even remember you. If you were so tight, don’t you think he’d instinctively know and push me away? But he’s not—so you obviously aren’t as close as you thought you were. I’m taking my shot.”
“Look, Ruth, I know you think you’re smart and all, but you don’t know shit. Truck has amnesia. He doesn’t have Spidey senses or anything. That’s not how the brain works. But make no mistake. He’s mine. He’s always been mine. And he might not remember me, but that doesn’t change the fact that we’re still married. I’ll protect him from anything—or anyone—who tries to hurt him.”
“He didn’t seem upset to have me by his side earlier,” Ruth said with a smug smile. “Besides, you can still have him. I just want him for a night or two. I’ve never been with someone as big as him…if you get my gist.”
Mary saw red. She was done trying to be nice. Rayne wanted the bitch back? Fine.
“Truck is not a piece of meat to pass around. And if you were paying attention, you’d have noticed how he leaned away when you pressed your tits against him. His lip curled when you couldn’t take your eyes off his dick. You aren’t fooling him. Truck isn’t stupid. He knows that you don’t give one little shit about him as a person. All you care about is how big his dick is. If you really want to get fucked, you can go to any sex shop and buy a big dick.”
Mary took a breath and continued, “I’m here to tell you that Truck is the most amazing person I’ve ever met. He’d give the shirt off his back to anyone who needed it. He’s also the kind of man who would be polite to a pushy bitch who’s horning in on his bro time and isn’t getting the obvious hints he doesn’t want her. So, because you’re clueless, and a chick, and my friend Rayne is always telling me that there’s some unspoken girl code that says women need to look out for each other, I’ll let you know straight up—Truck doesn’t want you. He would rather play darts with his friends then go home to an empty bed and jack off than be anywhere near you. Was that clear enough?”
“You’re a bitch,” Ruth hissed.
“Thank you,” Mary responded. “But that doesn’t change the fact that Truck doesn’t want you. He’ll never want you, no matter how much you throw yourself at him. Go home while you still have some dignity left.”
Instead of answering, Ruth pressed her lips together and took a step toward Mary. She swung her arm back to slug her.
Mary grinned in anticipation and shifted her weight, readying herself for a fight. It had been a long time since she’d gotten to take a bitch down a peg or two.
But before Ruth could follow through with her swing, her wrist was grabbed and her arm twisted behind her back.
Her boobs almost popped out of the shirt she was wearing with the movement, but somehow she stayed decent as Blade spun her around and pressed her face to the wall of the hallway.
Mary turned—and saw that Beatle, Coach, Ghost, and Truck were all standing at the end of the narrow hallway, staring at them.
She swallowed hard. Shit. There were times she didn’t mind letting others see how much of a bitch she could be, but now really wasn’t one of them.
“How much did you all hear?” Mary whispered to Blade as he easily held the struggling Ruth against the wall.
“Truck isn’t a piece of meat,” Blade told her with a smirk on his face.
Mary relaxed a little bit. So they hadn’t heard the part when they’d talked about his amnesia or when she’d called him her husband.
Lifting her chin, refusing to be ashamed of what they’d heard, especially since every word was the truth, she turned toward the others as confidently as if she had smackdowns in the hallways of bars every night of the week. She walked right up to Truck and held out her hand.
“Hi. I’m Mary.”
Truck didn’t hesitate. He grinned down at her and took her hand in his own. Instead of shaking it though, he brought it up to his mouth and kissed the back. “I’m Truck. But you obviously know that.”
“I do. Wanna buy me a drink?”
His grin got bigger, and he didn’t let go of her hand.
“I’m not sure—” Ghost began.
But Mary didn’t let him finish. She turned and glared at him. “You’re my friend, Ghost—but butt out.”
“Mary, you can’t just—” he tried again.
“Seriously,” Mary interrupted. “I got this. You’re just going to have to trust me. I’m not going to do anything to hurt Truck. Hear me? I may not have made the greatest decisions in the past, but I have nothing but his best interest at heart.”
“Leave them alone,” Coach told Ghost. “After the way she just stuck up for him, I’d say he owes her at least one drink.”
Ghost frowned and ran a hand through his hair, but finally nodded. “Okay, but we’re gonna be watching.”
Mary rolled her eyes. “Thanks, Dad. I’m sure Truck appreciates you guys protecting him from big bad me.”
Truck chuckled—and the sound went straight between her legs. It seemed like forever since she’d heard it, and when he shifted their hands until their fingers were intertwined and their palms were smushed together, she couldn’t think about anything but how good he felt.
“Come on, Mary,” Truck said. “We’ll let my dads play more darts while you and I get acquainted…or re-acquainted, as the case obviously is.”
Mary nodded, then turned to glare at Ruth, who now looked appropriately cowed. A little too late, but whatever. “Don’t come at me again, Ruth. Ever. I’m a lot tougher than I look. And I won’t hesitate to defend myself.” And with that, Mary turned back to Truck and said, “I’m parched.”
Without another word, Truck led them out of the small hallway where they’d been attracting quite a bit of interest to a spot at the far end of the bar. Mary caught Rayne’s thumbs-up and the smiles of the other women at their table, and she relaxed. Ghost might not think she was doing the right thing, but her friends did. And that felt good.
How could something that felt so right be wrong? She wasn’t going to blab that they were married, and she would definitely tread carefully, but Truck was tougher than his friends thought.
Truck waited until the spunky woman was settled on the barstool before scooting the one next to her a little closer and sitting. The bartender immediately came over and Mary ordered a beer. She then ordered a water for him, in a martini glass, with extra olives.
Surprised, Truck merely stared at her.
She shrugged at seeing his confused look. “You always said that when in a bar and not drinking, it was better to make it look like you were, simply to get people to leave you alone and not get on your case about it. This is what you usually order.”
Truck nodded. Yeah, he did say that. Of course, he didn’t remember telling the spitfire sitting next to him, but there was the whole missing-the-last-three-years-of-his-life thing. Instead of getting mired in self-pity, he was curious. Curious as to how well he knew Mary.
He was attracted to her, but it was more than her looks. He’d seen her head into the hallway and immediately recognized her as the woman from the steak place earlier that week. When he’d heard raised voices, he’d gotten concerned, and he and the others had made their way to check on her. If someone had been assaulting her, they’d have regretted it.
But instead of Mary being assaulted, she was verbally haranguing the skank who’d been hitting on him—and her words were a surprise. Not only because she was so staunchly defending him, which felt good, but because it was more than obvious she knew him. Very well.
Standing there listening to Mary give Ruth a verbal beat down, and not give one fuck that she was being a bitch as she did it, stirred something deep inside Truck. He’d spent much of his childhood letting people get away with rude remarks about his size. Even after he’d grown into his body and had been able to defend himself, he typically kept silen
t. After he’d been injured, the rude comments started up again, although this time mostly behind his back rather than to his face.
Even when his parents had been incredibly harsh to him when they’d come to visit him in the hospital, he’d bitten back the bitter words that were on the tip of his tongue.
It was just who he was. He’d never be the kind of man who would stand up for himself, for the simple reason that he knew he’d never change another person’s mind. But listening to this woman—Mary—say exactly what was on her mind was amazing.
Truck realized at that moment what had been lacking in most of his relationships in the past. The women weren’t strong enough to stand up to him. Or his friends. Or anyone, really. He intimidated most people. But apparently not Miss Mary. He felt excited that he’d known her before. He had an in to get to know her all over again.
“Thank you,” he told her. “You obviously know me pretty well.”
“I do.”
Truck grinned at her.
“Why are you smiling?” she asked.
“Because I’m fucking thrilled someone is being honest with me.”
“They mean well,” Mary told him.
“I know. But it’s still annoying. I’m not an idiot. I might not remember the last three years, but I’m assuming I didn’t live in a bubble. It’s extremely weird to have people smile at you and not know if they’re just being polite, or if you’re supposed to know them. I went to the grocery store the other day and the check-out lady smiled at me, and then engaged me in a ten-minute conversation. I still have no idea if she was just super friendly or if I know her from before.”
“That sucks,” Mary said.
“Yup. So thank you.”
“You’re welcome. But you should know, I’m not exactly going to tell you your entire three-year history tonight. We’ll work into it.”
“Good. That means you’ll have to see me again. And again. Don’t want to overload my poor brain and have it explode.”
Mary laughed. “Smooth, Trucker. Smooth.”
“Trucker?”
She blushed, and Truck thought it was the cutest fucking thing he’d ever seen. He had a feeling she didn’t blush much.
“Yeah, uh…it’s what I call you when you exasperate me. Or when I’m upset with you. Or when I just want to rile you up.”
It was Truck’s turn to laugh. “I take it you call me Trucker a lot then, huh?”
She shrugged. “Often enough.”
“I think I like it.”
Mary rolled her eyes. “Figures that you don’t remember the nickname, but the first time you hear it, you act just like you have every other time I’ve tried to annoy you by using it.”
“What’s your last name?” Truck asked, suddenly wanting to know everything about the fascinating woman in front of him.
For some reason, she looked away from him, then answered, “Weston.”
“Mary Weston. I like it,” he told her.
“Thanks.”
“Tell me more,” he demanded.
“Like what?”
“I don’t know…everything. You probably know all there is to know about me, and I don’t know anything about you.”
“I don’t know all that much about you,” Mary mumbled and picked at the label on her beer bottle.
Without thought, Truck reached out and lifted her chin so she had to look at him. The second his finger touched her skin, he felt a jolt of…something. Her skin was soft, and he wanted to palm her cheek in his large hand but he refrained. Barely. “Why?”
She shrugged. “Our relationship has been…complicated.”
“Were we dating?”
“Sort of.”
Truck didn’t like the ambiguous answer, but forged onward. This was more information than he’d gotten from his friends in the last week, and he didn’t want to make her clam up. He was desperate to hear more about his missing three years. “So…complicated?”
She gave him a half grin. “Yeah. Very.”
“Okay, so we get to know each other now. We can start new. A blank slate, so to speak.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Why?”
She was a prickly thing. Truck liked it. “Because. I want to get to know you…again. You said things were complicated, so let’s make them uncomplicated.”
“I’m not going to sleep with you,” Mary said a little defensively.
Again, her honesty was refreshing. “Good, because I don’t want a one-night stand,” he shot back. “Look. I get that this is weird for you. But it’s even stranger for me. I have no idea what ‘complicated’ means. Were we in an open relationship where we could both sleep with others? Do we like ménages? Maybe we’re married and you’ve got our twelve kids stashed away somewhere. I just don’t know.”
He noticed the way Mary paled, but continued, “But I do know that I’m drawn to you. I don’t need protecting, never have, but hearing you stand up for me back there,” he motioned to the restroom hallway with his head, “both aroused and fascinated me. It also made me yearn to get to know you. You’re literally the first person who’s admitted we had some kind of relationship before I lost my memory. I’m flying blind here, and you’re going to have to tell me if ‘complicated’ can be overcome, or if starting over with me from scratch is too much for you.”
“It’s not too much for me,” Mary said immediately.
Truck breathed out a sigh of relief. “So, we’ll start fresh. I’ll be as open as I can with you, more open than I obviously was before, and I can get to know you all over again as well. I’m not promising anything other than friendship for now. I’m attracted to you, Mary, I won’t lie about that, but until I either remember or someone tells me everything about my life that I’m missing from the last three years, I can’t commit to anything serious or long term.”
“I can live with that,” Mary said. “But you should know…I like you too. We may have been complicated, but that doesn’t mean that I didn’t care a great deal for you. I wasn’t always the best at showing you, for lots of reasons, but I’m going to try harder this time. I can’t exactly turn off my feelings because you don’t remember.”
They stared at each other for a long moment. Truck was more impressed with her now than he was before. It couldn’t have been easy for her to admit that.
“I can live with that,” he echoed.
Just then, someone jostled Mary from behind, making her knock over the bottle of beer she’d been drinking. Luckily, it tipped away from her and spilled over the back side of the bar instead of all over her.
Truck looked around and realized that the bar had gotten a lot more crowded since they’d sat down. He saw Ghost and the others, no longer playing darts but sitting at a table in the corner with four women, including the one who had been at the restaurant with Mary.
He should’ve guessed. None of the guys had been the least bit interested in checking out the women at the bar like they used to. Some Special Forces soldier he was. He should’ve known they had girlfriends.
Suddenly feeling sick that his friends hadn’t told him they’d found women, Truck wanted to get away from their prying eyes. Wanted nothing more than peace and quiet.
He turned back to Mary. “Want to get out of here?”
“Yes,” she said immediately, not taking her eyes from his.
Standing, Truck put his hand on her elbow to help her off the stool. “Do you need to tell your friends where you’re going?”
She shook her head. “No. It’s none of their business.”
Truck’s lips twitched. “I think Ghost and the others would disagree.”
Mary stepped close and tilted her head back so she could look up at him. It made Truck feel ten feet tall, and that was saying something, considering he was already so much taller than she was. She was jostled again, and Truck put his arm around her back to steady her.
“Ghost is like a brother to me. The others too. They should know that I’d never do an
ything to hurt you, and that you’d never hurt me. But at the moment, I don’t give a shit what they think. Your head is bothering you, it’s loud in here, and you and I need to start getting to know each other.”
“My place or yours?” Truck asked. He knew it sounded presumptuous, but he’d already told her that he wasn’t going to sleep with her. Besides, she was right, his head was pounding, and he wanted to get to know her without watchful eyes on them.
“Mine,” she said immediately.
“Did you drive?”
Mary shook her head. “No. I came with Rayne.”
“Do you trust me enough to come with me?”
Then she blew his mind. She put her hands on his chest and stood on her tiptoes. Truck instinctively leaned down and she put her lips over the scar near his mouth. She kissed him gently and said softly, “More than I trust myself.” Then she took a step back, smiled at him, took his hand in hers, and started for the door.
Truck looked over at the table where his friends were sitting—and almost laughed out loud at the eight pairs of shocked eyes watching him and Mary walk toward the door. He gave Ghost a chin lift and then turned his attention back to the woman walking in front of him. He was sure he’d get the third degree later, but for now, he was going to enjoy being in Mary’s presence.
Chapter Nine
“It’s nothing fancy,” Mary said as they entered her apartment. And it wasn’t. She hadn’t bothered to empty the boxes the guys had helped her pack at Truck’s place. Her heart wasn’t in it, and she knew that every time she saw something that had been displayed at Truck’s, it would hurt. So she’d left everything in the boxes.
“Are you moving?” Truck asked.
Mary wrinkled her nose. “No.”
To his credit, he didn’t push, but merely shrugged and headed for her couch. It was the one thing that Mary had regretted leaving behind when she’d all but moved in with him. It was brown suede and the most comfortable thing she’d ever owned. It had cost a fortune, but was worth every penny. It had huge cushions, and even Truck’s feet almost didn’t touch the floor when he sat on it.