Trucker (The Good Guys #1)(35)

"I like you just the way you are." She waved her fork at me and her  expression got soft. "Don't ever change. Especially not because of the  Kendras of the world."

We sat quietly, enjoying the cake while I mulled over some of the  thoughts and feelings I'd been plagued with lately, most of them  revolving around Travis.

The way I felt about him …  I'd never felt that way about anyone before. I  thought about him constantly and I loved everything about him.

It didn't hurt that he looked really hot driving a semi. Scratch that-he looked hot all the time.

It wasn't just his looks, though. Yeah, the physical attraction was off  the charts, but he was funny and protective and kind. He was fiercely  loyal to the people he loved.

He was a truly good person. I might have been naïve about the world, but I knew people like Travis were rare.

And it wasn't all about the way I felt about him, but the way he made me feel about myself. When I was with him, I felt special.

Important.

Loved.

Even though he hadn't told me he loved me, there were times when I felt  it. It came through in the way he looked at me, when he touched me.

I didn't plan on telling him, though. Just the thought of it made me  uncomfortable. Love was one thing my filter insisted on keeping inside.

I knew it was a modern world, and women could be the first to declare  their feelings in a relationship. But much like physical affection, I  love you wasn't something we did in my family. I couldn't remember the  last time I'd uttered those words-or the last time they were said to me.

My insides felt all twisted up and I needed someone to confide in. Since  Beverly insisted on hanging out with me, she was pretty much  volunteering. ‘Confidante' fell under the job description of friends,  right?

"I think I'm in love with Travis." The words ran together as they rushed from my mouth.

Beverly guffawed. "Well, of course you are. Like I said-fine piece of ass."

"Beverly!" I scolded while laughing. "I'm serious."

"Well, what's the problem? You sound like you're complaining."

"I don't know." I wrung my hands together while I tried to think of a  way to explain how I was feeling. "I'm leaving in a week. I didn't  expect this and it just happened really fast."

"Despite what you might believe, love doesn't adhere to a schedule," she  said wisely. "And sometimes it pops up when you least expect it."

I nodded, but I didn't really get it. I had zero experience with this  type of love. "I guess I always thought when I fell in love it would be a  slow, gradual process. One that made sense and had some sort of  timeline. I thought the term ‘whirlwind romance' only happened in movies  or books."

Beverly sat back in her chair and folded her weathered hands in her lap.  She was silent for a minute as she gazed out into the distance,  unfocused, as though she was lost in thought.

"I knew my William for two weeks before he asked my father for my hand  in marriage. I was seventeen and he was twenty-three. My daddy didn't  like that," she chuckled. "Said I was too young to know what love was.  He made a rule that we could send letters back and forth, but we weren't  allowed to see each other until I turned eighteen, which was three  months away. Seemed like a lifetime to me back then." She smiled and  shook her head. "I think my daddy thought he was being sly. Thought one  or both of us would lose interest. But guess who showed up on my  doorstep with a ring on my birthday?"                       
       
           



       

"William," I sighed, because it was so romantic.

"You bet your ass," Beverly confirmed. "I may have been young, but I  wasn't inexperienced. Before I met William, I'd already been in love  once. Already had my heart broken."

"Ernie," I said knowingly as I glanced at the house next door.

"He told you about that, did he?" She chuckled.

"He still has a thing for you." I swung my eyes back to her.

"Oh pssh. It's been over sixty years."

"Weren't you the one who just told me love doesn't adhere to a  schedule?" I asked, putting obnoxious air quotes around her words of  wisdom.

"Touché, my dear, touché."





ANGEL

"Are you sure you don't want to try out the showers?" Travis teased as he tugged on the ends of my hair.

"I had one this morning, thank you very much," I replied with an  exaggerated pout and he made it better with a kiss. "Maybe on the way  back, though."

In all honesty, I really was curious about these truck stop showers. Apparently, they were super nice.

It was Friday afternoon and we were at a truck stop somewhere in Kansas.  We still had a couple more hours of driving before we stopped for the  night, then we would arrive in Denver late tomorrow morning.

After we picked out some snacks, Travis said he was going to pay then  use the restroom, so I could just go wait for him in the truck. I was  walking around the back of the building through the parking lot when I  noticed my shoelace was untied.

I'd just finished tying it when a shadow fell over me. Thinking it was Travis, I stood up to face him.

It wasn't Travis.

The man standing before me was the epitome of trucker stereotypes.

He was probably twice my age, with a scraggly beard and a dark mullet  streaked with gray. The red plaid shirt he was wearing had the sleeves  torn off and his arms were covered in faded tattoos. His big stomach  hung over the belt of his beat-up jeans and dark sunglasses concealed  his eyes.

"Well, hi there, sweet cheeks. I suppose it's my lucky day." He grinned, revealing brown-stained teeth.

"What?" I whipped my head around to make sure he wasn't talking to  someone else. We were the only people in this part of the parking lot  and a feeling of unease came over me.

"You come on back to my rig. I promise I'll make it worth your while."

I started to back away because-creepy-but he wrapped his large hand around my forearm and started pulling me along with him.

"Hey! What are you doing?" I protested. "Wait." I tried to pull my arm  free from his grasp but he just held on tighter, completely ignoring me.

We were probably about forty feet away from the blue eighteen-wheeler he  was dragging me toward, too far for me to make out the company name on  the side of the driver's door.

I dug my heels into the ground but my shoes skidded on the asphalt, causing me to stumble.

Thirty feet away.

My heart started to pound, my body kicking into fight or flight mode. I  kept trying to yank my arm from his grasp but he wouldn't let go.

Twenty feet.

I remembered something Claire told me. She said if I was ever attacked,  to scream as long and loud as I could. Be loud, she'd said. The louder  the better. Most attackers won't want the attention drawn to them and  they'll run away.

"Stop!" I yelled in the most commanding tone I could muster.

The man's footsteps faltered, but he didn't loosen his grip. He started  to turn around to face me but before he could, he was tackled to the  ground.

I saw a blur of bodies colliding and it took me a second to realize  Travis was on top of the man, raining blows to his face. My hands flew  up to my mouth as I gasped in shock.

Travis got three or four solid punches in before he pushed off him and  stood up. The fight-if you could even call it that-was over before I  could make sense of what was happening.

"Don't touch my girlfriend, you sick fuck," Travis said in a voice I'd  never heard him use before. The muscles in his arms and back bulged and  strained against his white shirt.

"Fuckin' shit," the guy moaned and grumbled before rolling over and spitting blood on the ground. "What the fuck."

He managed to sit up on his knees and he swayed a bit while trying to regain his balance.

My heart was still pounding and I felt like I couldn't catch my breath  as the man pulled a red bandana from his back pocket and held it up to  his bleeding lip.

Body tense and fists clenched, Travis was still braced for a fight as the man wobbled to his feet.

"I didn't mean no harm," the man said as he backed away in defeat and spit more blood off to the side.                       
       
           



       

His sunglasses had been knocked off in the scuffle and I could tell his  left eye was already swelling shut. He tried to glance my way, but  Travis stepped in front of me.

"Don't even fucking look at her," he growled.

"I thought she was a lot lizard," the man explained, as if that should  be enough to clarify why he was dragging me off to his truck  caveman-style.

"You thought wrong." There was a finality to Travis's tone and if this guy knew what was good for him, he would walk away.