Page 6 of Reckless

“Famished actually,” I say with an embarrassed look.

“I think I can trust you.”

“You think?”

“Well, I do have lots of knives inside the RV.”

“And your trusty mace,” I let out a nervous laugh.

“How about you set the table and I’ll get some food?”

“Okay,” I get up and follow, but she points to the side of the RV. I stop, confused. Guess she still isn’t comfortable with me coming inside.

She moves over to the middle of the van and grabs a handle, giving it a twist and a tug. She pulls it up and reveals some cupboards and a small microwave oven. And a sound system.

“Sweet,” I smile genuinely.

“Cutlery and condiments are in there. I’ll grab the ingredients. Could you pull out the table?”

She shows me what she means, and I pull out a retractable counter, letting two legs drop down to support it.

Fuck, this thing is awesome. No wonder she likes riding around in it. I search the cupboards while she goes inside to grab what we need, then I go over and set the table.

Music starts playing, and I almost drop the saltshaker I’m holding. I turn and spot her looking through the window. She grins at scaring the shit out of me.

“Funny!” I yell and her head tips back on a laugh.

I carry on setting two places and listen to the music. It’s definitely not Yungblud again. Or the kind of music I usually listen to. It’s heavy on the string instruments and piano.

A male voice starts to sing, then a second harmonizes along with it. They sync so well. Standing still, holding onto a bunch of napkins, I listen to the music. Setting everything down, I walk over to the RV and peer at the display on the panel. It reads, ‘Burn The Ships’ by For King & Country.

I’ve heard of these guys, but never listened to their music before.

“Here.”

I turn to see her coming over, balancing everything in both arms. If I was an axe murderer, now would be the time to pounce. Lucky for her, I’m not.

I stay back, letting her set things down. She has everything she needs to make eggs with spring onions and spinach, and two bottles of water. I gratefully accept the bottle she hands me and lean back against the RV, while she starts prepping the food.

My eyes drift back to the scenery, the scents of nature and the food filling my senses, along with the harmonious voices of the men singing. There is nowhere else I’d rather be right now.

“What’s your name?” I ask suddenly.

She glances over her shoulder at me as she is setting a bowl in the microwave.

“Krista.”

For a second, I consider giving her a fake name, but something about how she is looking at me tells me lying would be a huge mistake.

“Jude.”

“Nice to meet you, Jude.” She goes back to finishing off the food as I pop the top on the bottle, and drink down half the water.

“Hope you like eggs. I need to stock up at the next rest stop, so it’s a limited menu.”

“I’d eat the rubber off the tires right now.”

That sweet laugh fills the air again, and she goes back to humming along to the music. She lets me know there are plates in one of the drawers beneath the pull-out table, so I set them out as well, by which time the eggs are done. My stomach grumbles.

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