Page 66 of Truck Off

Clara waves me off with a smile. “You’re fine. I just got here myself.”

I shift my gaze to Chase. Clara must see the confusion on my face because she adds, “Oh, don’t pay any attention to his state of filth. He got here early. Been at it at least an hour already.”

Chase straightens and turns to face us. He gives me a soft smile that has my belly twisting up in knots. I haven’t seen him since the street fair, and as much as I hate to admit it, I’ve missed him.

It also doesn’t help that he looks damn good standing there covered in grease. He’s wearing an old T-shirt that I’m guessing used to be white, but now it’s covered in stains with holes ripped throughout. Some holes are so big I can see the hard ripples of his chest and abs beneath. It makes me wonder why he even bothered to put it on.

His jeans are also stained and full of holes. They hang low on his hips, revealing a hint of his black boxer briefs.

His forearms have smears of grease covering them in long streaks and swirls. I suddenly have a strong urge to cover his arms in tattoos. He hasn’t said as much, but something tells me he’s ink free. I’d really love to change that and be the first to turn his skin into art.

When I shift my gaze back to his, he’s frowning. It’s such an unusual look for him that it has me taking a step back.

“What’s wrong with you?” I ask.

He shakes his head and softens his expression. “I was just about to ask you the same thing. You’re pale.”

I wave him off. “I’m fine. Just late, and I hate running late.”

“You’re not late,” Clara says as she jumps up from the table. “Here, let me help you with those.”

She takes the box from my arms, leaving me with two bags hanging on my shoulder. We take them to the table, and I organize the supplies.

I make the mistake of glancing over at Chase to find he’s still watching me. His knowing gaze suggests he doesn’t believe my excuse. Somehow, he can see right through me and all my bullshit.

If I want to hide my pain from him, I seriously have to work on my game face.

Then again, maybe it’s not so bad that he sees me. The real me. I’ve never truly let a man into my life. When I thought he was Christian, I was more than ready to do just that. His lie sent me running.

But his persistence and constant attempts at making up for his mistake have the armored walls erected around my heart cracking.

Chapter 16

I call bullshit

Chase

The hot June sun beats down on me, and I’d do just about anything for a breeze to kick in and cool this sweat off my back. The air is unusually stagnant today, making it feel warmer than it really is.

I wipe my brow with the back of my hand, most likely adding another streak of grease to my face. I’ve done that so many times this morning, I doubt I can even see the color of my skin anymore.

Karla and I got an early start, so we’d have time to run out for supplies if needed. After a thorough investigation, I determined the engine was fine. It really just needs a good tune up. Once we replace the spark plugs and give this old lady some new oil, we’ll be ready to see if she starts.

Once the sweat is cleared from my eyes, I tighten another bolt. I glance over at Karla and smile. “I think that’s almost it for now. You got those?”

She nods and tightens her grip on the wrench. “Yep. I got it. I can finish these up if you want to clean up for lunch.”

I grab the industrial hand soap from my toolbox and head to the side of the building where the water hose is located. Working under the hood of cars is a dirty job, and this bus definitely made me dirty. Every inch of exposed skin is covered in grease and grime.

After stripping my useless T-shirt off, I turn on the hose and hold it over my head. I suck in a sharp breath as cold water hits my heated skin. Not caring if my clothes get wet, I let the water run over my head and down the entirety of my body as if I were standing in a shower.

Once my skin is wet, I grab the soap and squirt a large dollop in my hand. It’s going to take a lot of this shit to get the grease off me.

I start with my arms and then rub the citrus scented soap over my face and chest. The white liquid quickly turns gray as it strips the grease away. I’m sure I’ll still have plenty on me, but it should be good enough to eat without contaminating my lunch.

Once I’m satisfied that I’ve scrubbed enough of the grease away, I pick up the hose again and rinse off. By the time I’m done, my jeans and boots are soaked through. I probably should have taken my boots off first. Guess I’m dealing with squishy feet until I get home.

“Can I use some of that?” Karla asks as she steps up beside me.

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