It took a second for the events of the day to come back to me. The awful truck stop bath. Hitchhiking. Travis.
I looked outside and realized we were parked at a rest stop.
“Hey,” I said, rubbing my eyes. “I didn’t mean to sleep so long. Where are we?”
“Near Mount Vernon, Illinois. I got dinner for us about an hour ago but I didn’t want to wake you up.” He pointed at the fast food sack between us. “I didn’t know what you like. I hope you’re not a vegetarian.”
“Nope, I’ll pretty much eat anything except for sushi,” I said, already digging through the bag. “Because sushi is disgusting. I know, I know. Everyone is supposed to love sushi. It’s like New York City or wine or The Beatles,” I rambled on. “Everyone says they love it because everyone else says you’re supposed to.”
My mini-rant ended when I took a very unladylike bite of the cheeseburger and moaned. It didn’t even matter that it wasn’t warm anymore. Delicious.
“You don’t like those things?” He chuckled.
I made a face when I remembered the sip of Merlot Claire let me try at dinner once. “I’ve only tried wine one time. I expected it to taste like grape juice. It didn’t.” I shuddered. “And I don’t dislike The Beatles. Love them, actually. But I bet if I didn’t, you’d give me a funny look,” I accused. “And I’ve never been to New York City, so the verdict is still out on that one.”
Seeming amused, Travis sat back in his seat and allowed me to finish my food in silence.
“Thank you, Travis,” I said, balling up the wrapper and placing it back in the sack. “You didn’t have to get me dinner.”
“I ordered off the dollar menu,” he informed me. “It’s not a big deal.”
He handed me a napkin and coughed to cover his laugh when he pointed at the giant glob of ketchup I had on my face. Grimacing, I wiped at my cheek. I couldn’t seem to stop embarrassing myself around this guy.
“So, listen,” Travis started, sounding hesitant. “I should’ve told you earlier that I have to make another drop off in the morning… Which means we’ll need to find somewhere to stay the night. Usually I just stay at a rest stop because I have a sleeper cab,” he explained, nodding his head toward the back of the semi where there was a beige curtain hanging over the small doorway. “But that sleeping situation isn’t ideal for two people. We should get you a motel room. My treat.”
I was already shaking my head before he could finish. “That’s not necessary, really. You can still take the sleeper bed. I’ll just sleep right here.” I wiggled my butt in the seat, demonstrating how comfortable I was. Travis started to protest so I continued. “Seriously. I slept here just fine all day. I don’t want to be in the way any more than I already am.”
“You’re not in the way. It’s not safe for you to sleep up here, even with the doors locked. I wouldn’t feel right about it,” he explained, his voice gruff.
“And I don’t feel right about making you get a motel room.”
We entered some sort of stare-down, both of us trying to assert our stubbornness. I wasn’t willing to use my own money for a motel and I wouldn’t let him pay for it either. That wasn’t his responsibility and he was being silly. There was no reason for him to change his original plan.
“Fine,” he conceded. “A compromise then. You take the bed. I’ll sleep up here.”
“No way.” I shook my head. “I’m not going to kick you out of your own bed. And you’ve been driving all day.”
“Take it or leave it. Otherwise, I’m driving straight to the nearest motel and getting you a room.” His tone left no room for argument as he leaned back in the seat and crossed his arms over his chest.
I narrowed my eyes at him and huffed out a breath of defeat. “Okay.”
Travis’s face broke out into a huge grin, showcasing straight white teeth. You’d have thought the guy won the freaking lottery. “Dang, that was easier than I thought,” he gloated.
His smug facial expression made my lips involuntarily curl up in a smile and he grinned back at me. A fluttery feeling spread through my chest as an awkward silence followed our little argument.
Our eyes were still locked, but it felt different now. The seconds ticked by and suddenly, the air felt charged. It was as if we didn’t want to look away but neither of us knew what to say either.
We’d been staring at each other for far too long for it to be completely innocent.
Travis’s eyes roamed my face before they flicked down to my mouth, and I automatically licked my lips. Which, in return, made me look at his lips. They looked soft, yet firm, and they parted as though he was going to say something, but he didn’t.
More seconds passed. I felt my breathing pick up as I wondered if he was thinking about kissing me, which was crazy because I just met the guy.
Being the moment-ruiner that I am, I blurted out the least sexy thing possible. “I really have to pee.”
After using the restroom and having way too much fun with the vending machines, Angel and I made our way back out to the truck, our arms full of snacks and soda.
I’d changed into black track pants and white T-shirt to sleep in and Angel was now wearing black leggings and another off the shoulder shirt, this time a sky blue that brought out her eyes.
Before getting back into the driver’s side, I assisted her up into the passenger seat, unintentionally admiring the way the tight material of the leggings stretched over her shape.
“I can do it myself, you know,” she said, her tone exasperated.
“Oh, I know you can. Maybe I just like the view,” I teased and winked at her, causing her cheeks to turn pink. Making this girl blush was quickly becoming my new favorite hobby.
After getting settled down behind the wheel, I turned to her. I wanted to know more about her, and I had no idea how long I’d have before she was gone. She could take off tomorrow and I’d never see her again.
“So, I’m dying to know what your end game is,” I told her as we munched on Twix bars.
“My end game?” she asked.
“Yeah. Where are you going? And why do you think hitchhiking is a good idea?” I tried not to sound like I was scolding her, but I couldn’t keep the edge out of my voice.
She sighed. “It’s a long story. I’ll try to give you the Cliff’s Notes version.”
She went on to tell me about her dad’s passing when she was twelve, her aunt’s unexpected death, and her short time in the foster home. She sounded detached from it all, and I could tell she was trying to keep the emotion out of her voice.
The feeling of empathy that flowed through me was overwhelming. I knew what loss felt like. I knew what it was like to grow up with a single parent. But I still had my mom, Colton, and Hank. I had a home.
Hell, even any one of my neighbors would give me the shirt off their back. That’s just how it was in Tolson. There was always a friendly face around the corner.
Angel didn’t have anyone.
She told me she’d saved up some money and planned to find a job and a place to live in California. My chest tightened when I thought about her all alone in the world. I felt an overpowering urge to protect her, and I didn’t even know why.
“Why California?” I asked.
Angel reached into her back pocket and took out a shredded postcard—or what used to be a postcard. It looked like it’d seen better days.
“My mom sent this to me when I was ten. She knew I loved otters the best.” She showed me the picture on the front where two otters were floating in the water while holding hands. “I feel like she wanted me to know where she was.”
“How do you know she’s still there?” I reasoned. The postcard was sent almost eight years ago. Her mom could be anywhere by now.
Angel looked at me with a sad smile. “They tried to locate her after Claire died. Turns out, she’s in a California state prison on a drug charge. She’s up for parole in a couple months. I thought maybe…” She paused. “Maybe I should be there when she ge
ts out. We could start over, you know? She’ll need a place to stay and we could get to know each other again.” She let out a deep sigh. “I know it might sound silly, but it wouldn’t even matter that she left, as long as we could start over now.”
“That doesn’t sound silly at all,” I said. “But there’s gotta be a better way for you to do this. What you’ve been doing is too dangerous.”
Her eyes swung my way with a look that told me she knew I was right. Before she could respond, I made a decision that would change my life forever.
“Stay with me when we get back to Tolson,” I offered. “While you were sleeping I looked at my schedule, and I have a delivery to make in three weeks. Guess where it is.” I raised my eyebrows at her.
“California?” Her lips tipped up.
“Yep,” I popped the ‘P’ and drummed my hands on the steering wheel. “I’ll take you there myself.”
I asked Travis to give me the night to think about his extremely generous offer, and he showed me to the back compartment of his truck. The tight space included a small bed which was more of a cot, but I wasn’t going to complain. It looked like heaven.
After we said goodnight, I thought about the look on his face when he asked me to stay with him. It was as if he was genuinely concerned about my well-being, but I wasn’t sure why he cared.
I really needed to weigh my options here.
If I accepted his offer, I’d be taking the risk that he could be a serial killer, which would be the worst-case scenario. However, I really didn’t get the ‘stranger danger’ vibe from him. I mean, he bought me dinner and insisted on giving me the bed because it was safer than sleeping up front.
The other drawback was that I hated the idea of mooching off of him for the next few weeks. But maybe I could pay him back somehow after I got a job.
Then again, being around Travis for that much time could be difficult. I’d known him for less than a day and I already had this weird insta-crush on him. We’d basically be living together; he didn’t need some random teenage girl mooning over him, following him around everywhere.
All the reasons I should say no shouted at me: Possible serial killer. Money-sucking mooch. Constant goo-goo eyes.
But what was my other option? I knew what I’d been doing was dangerous.
With the pros and cons swirling around in my mind, I told myself not to decide until the morning. I’d made enough life-altering decisions in the past several days. After shutting down my thoughts about the near future, I turned to other worries.
I missed Claire. A strong feeling of homesickness washed over me. I missed my home. Not just the place, but the feeling of home.
I don’t know why my mind chose this moment to have the mental breakdown it so rightly deserved. Maybe it was because I had never really had a chance to grieve. Things had changed so quickly after Claire’s stroke that I just had to focus on the next step, taking life one day at a time. I was forced to concentrate on one thing—moving forward.
The reason didn’t really matter. All I knew was that the floodgates were opening and there was nothing I could do to stop it.
Sobs wracked my body and I tried to muffle the sounds in the pillow. I wrapped my arms around myself and curled into a ball, hoping I didn’t wake Travis.
I was an ugly crier. Squeaky voice, puffy eyes, red nose, and the snot—oh, the snot.
“Angel…?” I heard Travis whisper before I felt strong arms close around my body.
He was hugging me. This gorgeous stranger was hugging me. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had a decent hug.
Physical affection wasn’t something we did in my family. Usually, my first reaction to receiving a hug was to force myself not to recoil, awkwardly pat the person’s back, and wait it out until the hugger was satisfied with said hug.
This should have felt awkward, but it didn’t. Much to my surprise, my natural response was to wrap my arms around his neck and bury my face in his chest while I cried.
He didn’t say anything. He didn’t tell me everything would be okay, and I appreciated that. Empty promises wouldn’t do me any good. He just rubbed my back and held onto me until I had no more tears left.
After the worst of my breakdown subsided, I became very aware of the close proximity of our bodies and the wetness I’d left on his T-shirt.
Cue the embarrassment.
I shifted away from him and tried to wipe my face.
“S-sorry I woke you up,” I squeaked. I cleared my throat and gestured toward his chest. “And I’m sorry about all the tears and snot on your shirt.”
And what did Travis do? He barked out a laugh then took off his shirt.
He took off his shirt.
“I wasn’t asleep. And it’s not a problem. Do you feel better now?” he asked, his face going serious.
“Yeah, kinda. I guess I needed that,” I said, feeling grateful for his kindness, but also very distracted by his bare upper body.
The guy was ripped. His chest and arms were defined, and I counted his abs—two, four, six—yes, definitely six. No visible tattoos. Just smooth, tan skin. My eyes wandered down to the V-shaped muscles on his hips. A trail of light brown hair ran down from his belly button into the waistband of his pants.
Blushing furiously, I forced my eyes back up. He was no longer wearing a hat, and I noticed his hair was actually quite long on top. Messy brown strands fell onto his forehead, ending just above his eyes. I couldn’t stop myself from reaching up and running my fingers through it.
“Your hair is a lot longer than I thought it would be,” I said, transfixed by the softness.
When Travis tried to talk, his voice came out huskily and he cleared his throat. “The lady at the Quick Clip said it was the popular style now.”
“I like it.” I nodded, running my fingers over the longer hair on the top of his head and down the back where it was shorter.
Suddenly, I realized how close our faces were.
Inwardly berating myself for being so bold, I retracted my hand from his hair. I couldn’t interpret the expression on his face, and it occurred to me that I might have made him uncomfortable.
“Let me get a new shirt,” he said abruptly, and disappeared into the front of the truck.
His sudden departure was a reality check. He came back here to comfort me and I basically molested him. Great.
Shit. Shit. Shit. I tried to take a minute to calm my body down while I looked for a clean T-shirt in my bag. Loose track pants were terrible for hiding a raging hard-on.
When I’d heard Angel crying, I couldn’t stop myself from going to her. My intentions of comforting her had been completely honorable. And when she wrapped her arms around me, it felt like my heart cracked in my chest.
I wanted to make her feel better, but I didn’t know how. Not knowing what else to do, I just held onto her and let her cry.
When I’d taken off my shirt, I didn’t even think about what her reaction would be. It was an innocent move. But when her eyes raked over my body I’d felt my dick start to stiffen, and I had to bite back a moan when she ran her delicate fingers through my hair.
It felt so good to have her hands on me.
If I’d questioned whether or not she was attracted to me, I definitely had my answer now. I couldn’t explain it, this connection between us, but I knew she felt it, too.
After pulling on a faded navy-blue tank top, I sat back down next to Angel. She looked apprehensive about what to do next, so I lifted my arm up in invitation. Her features relaxed in relief and she curled into my side.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I knew she might still be upset, and I was willing to listen.
“Not really.” She looked up at me with red-rimmed eyes. “Thanks, though.”
“When I was a kid, my mom would tell me stories when I was sad. I could just talk for a while if you want,” I suggested. Maybe she just needed a distraction.
I felt her nod against my chest, so I kept talking. “You and I actually ha
ve a lot in common,” I told her. “My mom is an alcoholic. I mean, it’s not the same as having a problem with drugs, but it’s still an addiction. She’s been sober seven months now. She didn’t always have trouble with alcohol, though. My dad died in a car accident when I was four. After that… She just couldn’t cope. Her drinking never stopped her from being a kick-ass mom.” I huffed out a laugh. “I guess you could say she was a high-functioning alcoholic. She made it to all my baseball games. Had dinner on the table every night. She’s a great mom and I’m proud of her.”
“I’m sorry,” Angel interjected. “About your dad, I mean.”
“I don’t remember much about him.” I tried to recall the few memories I had of my dad. “He used to let me sit behind him on the top of the couch and comb his hair. He’d hold up a cup of water so I could dip the comb in it to get his hair wet. He let me put it in all kinds of styles. Mohawk, Elvis hair…”
“It sounds like he was a fun dad,” she said, her voice sounding sleepy. Her arm snaked around my stomach and I put my hand over hers to keep it there. I liked the way her arm felt around me.
“He was. But I’ve got Hank now.”
“Hank and Sons,” she repeated the company name. “Did your mom remarry?”
“No. Hank and I aren’t related, but he’s like a dad to me. When I was seven, Hank and his son, Colton, moved in three houses down from me. Colton and I were the same age,” I explained. “The first day we met we got into a scuffle over some game… Something to do with marbles…” I chuckled at the memory. “I gave him a black eye and he gave me a bloody nose. Hank put us in one of his big shirts—together—and called it our ‘get along’ shirt. We thought it was bullshit at the time but we’ve been inseparable ever since. We’re actually roommates, so if you decide to stay with me for the next few weeks you’ll get to meet him…”
I left that last part hanging in the air, wanting her to tell me she would stay, but I was met with silence. I looked down to find her eyes closed, her deep, even breaths fanning across my chest.
The Good Guys Box Set: TRUCKER, DANCER, DROPOUT, and A Trucker Wedding Page 4