Page 22 of Trailer Trash

I knew better.

He boarded, making sure I’d caught up before he showed the driver our tickets.

The bus was half full and he headed toward the back, continuing down the aisle until he found two open seats together. He glanced back at me. “This good?”

I looked at him, waiting for him to tell me “gotcha.”

I’d spent most of my life waiting for the rug to be pulled out from under me when good things happened. My mother had taught me by experience that they were often a trick—a fleeting one at that. For the life of me, I couldn’t see Jed making a ten-hour bus ride to appease me. At any moment, he was going to find some way to get me off—either physical manhandling or some kind of threat. But at the moment, he was simply expecting an answer.

“Uh . . . yeah.”

He lifted my bag to the overhead bin. “Window or aisle?”

“Uh . . . window.”

“Good,” he said. “I prefer the aisle, but lady’s choice.”

I slid in and took my seat. He sat next to me, our legs touching. Heat seeped through my body where his denim-covered leg touched my bare one.

Good God.I was going to have to travel ten hours like this. I suspected I’d be jumping him in the bathroom when we changed buses in Texarkana. And we only had a fifteen-minute layover.

He tried to stretch out his long legs, but there was nowhere for them to go. His knees were bent at an awkward angle, and I had a hunch there was no position he could contort himself into that would be comfortable. He moved his arm so his right hand rested partially on his leg, but partially on mine.

I closed my eyes and sucked in a breath.Sweet Mother of Mercy.

He leaned into my ear and whispered, his breath fanning my neck and sending a shiver down my back. “You comfortable?”

My eyes flew open, and I gave him a look that suggested he’d just asked the most ridiculous question in the world. But any comment I’d thought to make got stuck in my throat when I realized our faces were only inches apart.

His eyes darkened, and I was sure he was going to kiss me, but then he shifted, moving back a few inches, making it look totally natural.

“You’re not,” I said, trying to slow down my rapid breathing.

“This isn’t about me,” he said, watching my expression. “This is about you.”

“Why are you doin’ this, Jed?” I asked, irritated my voice sounded so husky.

“Because I know in my gut you need someone with you on this trip. And while I recognize and appreciate that you feel like you need to do this alone, I’m going to be there behind you, giving you the support and backup you need.”

“Why? Because of Rose?”

He met my gaze and held it. “No. I promise you it’s not because of Rose.”

I released a short laugh despite myself.

He lifted a hand and softly brushed a stray hair from my face. “Is it so hard to believe someone could care enough to be that person for you?”

“Yes.”

Sadness filled his eyes. “Then you need me even more than I thought.”

Someone started coughing behind us, and the driver announced that the bus was about to pull out of the station. I realized the sacrifice he was making for me, accompanying me on this trip he didn’t really understand, sitting on this horrible bus for endless hours. Maybe, just maybe, Jed actually did want to do itfor me, but part of me couldn’t help thinking it was because Skeeter wanted him to keep an eye on me—for personal gain, not necessarily for my protection. After all, Skeeter had insisted Jed come with me to Little Rock. And yet . . . that had been about Kate—what could either of them possibly hope to find in Ardmore?

Still, if Beasley really was out of prison—and Kate hadn’t lied to me yet—I supposed it didn’t matter what Jed’s motivations were. There was a chance I’d need backup.

“Okay. You can go with me,” I said, even though I knew this was a terrible idea. “But let’s get off this bus and take your car.”

“Are you sure?”

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