Page 32 of Trucker
I smiled. “Yes—Valentina Forsythe.”
“Forsythe?” Andi asked. “I thought her name was Maddox.”
“It was.” I replied. “She got married recently and took on her husband’s name.”
“Badass.” Andi nodded approvingly.
When no other hand went up, I continued, telling them a little about me, what the training would consist of, and what they would need in order for me to put them through for certification.
All through it, a guy who introduced himself as Ryan Carling stared at me in a way that made me uncomfortable. There was just something about him that just didn’t sit right with me. I couldn’t accuse him of anything, and he seemed to be getting along with the others.
Perhaps it was my burnout.
As the day grew, I kept my eyes on him.
While the others sat in clusters, and whispered to each other and asked questions, he sat by himself, scribbling into a tattered notebook with a barely there pencil.
But I didn’t address it.
Instead, I carried on with the housekeeping activities, gave them a chance to run the course, just to get a feel for it and a slew of other things.
At the end of the day, I stopped at the local grocery store to pick up a few things. Taji said I didn’t have to, but when I was constantly training and working out, I ate entirely more than usual.
In order to have the energy to burn, I had to fuel up.
The further I went into the store, the more it became obvious all the women were staring, and the men were frowning.
A few of the ladies even removed their wedding rings before attempting to talk to me.
Though I was polite, I ignored their advances, picked up what I needed and exited the store.
Outside, a woman I remembered from the diner was leaning against my truck, chewing the life out of a piece of gum and pulling on a cigarette.
“Can I help you?” I wanted to know as I yanked the back door open to put my groceries away.
“I saw the way you were staring at me at the diner.” She blew a bubble from the gum, allowing it to pop before chewing mercilessly. “I think you want my number.”
“If I wanted your number, I would ask you for it.”
“Maybe you’re shy.”
I tilted my head.
“Do I look shy to you?” I asked, eyeing her.
“Wha—”
I frowned. “You’re leaning on my truck.”
She gave me a,how dare you, look.
“That’s my way of asking you politely to move.” I pointed out. “By the way.”
Jerking away from the truck, she was still glaring at me as I climbed in and started the engine. Without giving her a second look, I reverse from the spot and turned for the house.
“What the fuck is in the water in this town?” I muttered.
The place was like something Stephen King forgot he’d created
