Page 118 of Truck Stop Titan

“Cool as a fucking cucumber, Moretti tells Prez, ‘You already know what these are, otherwise you wouldn’t have been looking for Hammer. Reynolds is no longer a Slayer. No hard feelings. No retaliation. Got me?’ His unspoken threat hung in the air, and I thought for sure he was dead. Swear to fuck, Prez’s face turned five different shades of red, all the while he’s glaring at me. He takes his sweet fucking time lighting up a hand-rolled. Takes two slow drags. Then nods at me. Fucking nods, like he’s conceding. Gives Tito a quick glance, then warns me never to step foot in Montana again.”

“And?”

“Andnothing. That’s it. I’m free.”

“You’re out?”

“Out.”

“For good?”

“Looks that way.”

Lips pursed, she curled her arms around my neck, smashing those beautiful tits between us. “Does that mean no more bad boy?”

“Gorgeous.” I slammed my hands to her ass, ground my hips, just enough to make her squirm. “I’m as bad as they come.”

Moriah sighed, her arms dropping, spine straightening. Again, with those fingers curling into my beard, stroking. All the playful lust disappeared from her face while she stared, the sudden mood shift making me twitchy.

“What is it?”

Her fingers twisted in my facial hair, then tugged, pulling me closer, her lips grazing mine before she whispered, “You’re the best person I know, Dane Reynolds.”

My chest swelled, a painful, unfamiliar expansion, the room, the tub, hell, my skin shrinking, my ego stretching the boundaries of the universe. Words had never held much power. Yet there I sat, surrounded by bubbles and Moriah, and…fuck yeah…smelly candles, too, and her eight little words brought me back to that hungry little boy I once was, starving for a compliment, a reinforcement, a pat on the head, hell, even a, “Hey kid, how was your day?”

Those eight words, strung together, combined with the shimmer in her eyes, and the blush under those freckles, decimated the years of abuse and neglect, because they never would’ve mattered coming from anyone other than that fucking beautiful woman sitting naked in my lap.

“Dane,” she whispered, swiping a thumb under my eye. “Are you crying?”

“Nah.” I coughed, a pathetic attempt to hide the emotion.

But that was fucked. I had no reason to hide from Moriah.

She tapped my chin. “What is it?”

“I’m home.” I kissed her, then wrapped my arms around her neck and buried my nose in her hair. “It’s really fucking good to be home.”

# # #

“What is this place?” Moriah asked, hopping from the truck, those long legs showcased in a pair of cutoffs and worn-out Vans, her breasts bouncing beneath the thin fabric of her T-shirt. No denying, I loved her work attire, all sweet, sharp and businesslike, but damn, she rocked the down-home dirty girl vibe like nobody’s business.

We stood almost dead center of the twenty-plus acres I’d inherited. Land my father had swindled from its previous owners before I was born.

Surrounded by forest, birds chattered over our heads, the river rushed to our right, and speed boat engines droned in the distance.

“This is my...”home, I started to say, but that was no longer the case. “This is where I grew up.” I hooked an arm around Mim, lifted her from the truck, and set her on my shoulders.

“Is that where you lived?” Moriah pointed at the charred remains of the trailer, a skeletal reminder of wicked ways and wayward deeds.

“Unfortunately.”

Mim wrapped her hands around my chin, leaning over my head. “What happened?”

“Burned to the ground,” I grumbled.

“Are you sad?” she asked, her soft, sweet voice worried.

“No, Little Lady.” I gave her leg a squeeze. “Nothing but bad came outta that hunk of metal. It needed to go.”

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