Page 13 of Truck Stop Titan

Matt: We need to talk about this

Me: Nothing to discuss. She needs me

Matt: What about us?

Me: Us ended when u made me choose

Matt: We’ll talk when U get home

Nothing more to talk about. I had a niece to take care of. Matt wanted nothing to do with the bastard child of a drug addict. I wanted nothing to do with a man who would abandon a child in need. So, I’d left a day early. Gave me time to get my bearings before meeting my sole living relative.

“Here’s to you, Mom,” I mumbled to myself before taking a sip of my drink. Ah, so good. “Here’s to you, sis.” I chugged two more swallows. “And here’s to finally kicking Matt to the curb.” Which reminded me…

Me: In case UR unclear. We’re done. Have UR things out of my house by the time I get back.

He didn’t reply. Then again, I hadn’t expected a response. Matt had never fought for me.

My cell hit the counter with a dull thud. The glass touched my lips, liquid scorched my throat, fire hit my gut. The burn helped clear the static from my head.

Glass raised to the sky, I mumbled, “Eff you, Matthew.” I took a long swallow, then another. “I don’t need you. I can do this by myself.”

A deep chuckle came from my left. I turned to find the profile of a large man. His shoulders were so broad they left no room for anyone to sit on either of the stools flanking him, and the glower he wore expressed he wanted it that way. His hair was shaved on the sides, the top long and fallen to the left, blending with a full beard that nearly reached his broad chest. His jeans hugged what looked to be a great ass and thick thighs, and the sleeves of his black T-shirt stretched tight around lumberjack, solid arms.

Forcing my gaze to his face, I found the same hard edges. “What’s funny?”

“Nothin’, sweetheart.” The man brought his glass to his lips, sipped, then set it down, without so much as a glance my way.

Rude.

“If you’re gonna laugh at someone, you can at least look them in the eye.”

Not a grunt, a huff, or a subtle blow-off. Although I was pretty sure his jaw clenched.

Men sucked. Okay, not really. I liked men. A lot. Especially the bartender because he made a damn fine whiskey sour, but the beefy dude? He could kiss my ass.

I threw back another long swallow, twisted to face the guy, and released my ire. “You know what? Eff you, too.”

That got his attention, and he shot me a sideways glance. “Eff you? Really?” He gestured to the bartender for another drink. “You’re gonna insult me, at least do it right. Don’t give me that half-assed shit.”

“Half-assed?”

“That’s what I said, baby.”

“Baby?” That just made me angry. Matthew didn’t even call me baby. “‘Eff Matthew, and eff you.”

“Is this a joke?” he asked the bartender. “You got hidden cameras or something?”

The bartender shook his head, gaze dancing between the two of us, then hustled to the other end of the bar. Smart guy.

“I’m not being funny,” I assured him, leaning closer, certain that if he actually gave me the courtesy of eye contact, he would see the magnitude of my seriousness.

The man ignored me and stared at the plethora of bottles decorating the wall behind the bar. When he lifted his drink to his lips, the muscles under his colorful arms bunched and coiled, doing all kinds of crazy things to my insides. Or maybe the alcohol was doing its job.

Regardless, I pretended to ignore him, too, while I picked at my food and ordered another drink. I drank for Mom, I convinced myself, not because I’d rather sit next to grumpy guy than sit alone in a hotel room and fret over my future.

Two sips into my third drink, a tall man shuffled beside me, leaning one elbow on the bar, resting his free hand on the back of my stool.

He told me I was beautiful, asked if I would join him for a drink. I politely shot him down. He persisted, scooting closer, caging me. “C’mon sweet thing. You and I both know if a woman comes to a bar alone, she’s looking for company.”

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