Page 35 of Truck Stop Titan

Hadn’t noticed he was a smoker. Then again, I’d never smelled the vile scent on his clothes, or his breath. Odd. Being extra sensitive to the odor, I could smell that poison a mile away.

“We brought you lunch.” I forced a smile, fighting a sudden wave of nausea.

Dane raised one brow, pinched the cigarette between his fingers, and dropped the stub at his feet, smashing it into the newly uncovered dirt.

He couldn’t take his eyes off Mim, and that damn green monster pinched my chest again, especially when a grin cracked the hard planes of his face, white teeth showing between his beard and mustache. “Lunch, huh?” he asked, rubbing a forearm across his sweaty brow.

Holding the glass his way, I blurted, “And water, too. Mim thought you looked thirsty.”

Mim smiled.

Dane grabbed his shirt and pulled it over his head, covering all that sweaty, beautiful skin, then squatted. “Thanks, Little Lady. How did you know I was starving out here?” He fell back on his ass, crossed his legs, and gestured for us to sit, too.

I waited for Mim to claim her spot next to the hulking man, then I made myself comfortable in the cool grass. A warm breeze blew through the willow trees, and a boat jetted across the lake in the distance.

“Which one is mine?” Dane asked.

I waited a beat, giving Mim a chance to pipe in. When she didn’t move or speak, I offered, “All three of them.”

He laughed. A deep throaty chuckle that heated me through and through, targeting inappropriate places.

And sweet Jesus, he noticed, his eyes darkening to a lusty shade when they landed on me. My heart responded, its rhythm changing tempo, and I wondered if I was about to dance through another open door.

# # #

I listened through the wall while Dane put Mim to sleep, my eyes leaking something fierce. God, how I wanted to be the one holding her. She’d insisted on showering herself. Brushing her own hair. Dressing. But eating or going to bed? Those tasks she couldn’t do without Dane by her side.

And my period must’ve been getting close, because for some reason, her rejection, although expected, had set me on a crying spell I couldn’t break. I couldn’t fathom the hell she’d been through, or the hell my sister had been through, and maybe I was better off not knowing the horrid details, but how could I help if I didn’t know her triggers. How could I help if she wouldn’t let me into her little bubble?

I waited for an hour on the floor, my head against the wall, hoping to hear anything, any sneak peek into their world—their private space I feared I’d never be part of.

When I heard Dane sneaking out of her room, I hopped to my feet and waited, hoping he’d not pass my door.

A soft knock made my chest pound, adrenaline spiking, and I took a long, slow breath before facing him.

A breath he stole the moment our eyes met.

“Hey,” he greeted me, gruff and sleepy. One hand shoved in the front pocket of his jeans, the other squeezing the back of his neck, that unruly hair falling over his face.

“Hey.” I tried to tame my voice, but the quiver gave away my unstable emotions.

“Aw, fuck.” In a move so strange coming from a man so daunting, he cupped my face and dragged his thumbs under my leaky eyes. “What now?”

“I don’t know. I can’t stop crying. Must be that time of the month.”

Matthew had always cringed when I brought up the subject of my period, said he didn’t need to hear about my lady problems. He often worked late those few days every month I was particularly sensitive and moody.

Dane only laughed, said, “Be right back,” and jogged down the hallway.

He returned minutes later holding two beers, a spoon, and a pint of cherry vanilla. “So, what’ll it be? Beer or ice cream?”

Oh God. Sweetness overload. I tossed my wad of tissues in the trash, threw myself on the bed, and covered my face with my arm. “I could use your mad tongue skills about now.”

Silence. Heavy, thick, palpable silence.

I peeked out from under my arm to find Dane staring down at me, not a lick of humor on his face.

“That was a joke,” I whispered, my voice catching.

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