Trucker (The Good Guys #1)(7)

"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. Sounding  detached from it all, I could tell she tried 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 gets 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."





ANGEL

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.





TRAVIS

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.