Page 18 of Truck Stop Titan

That four-poster frilly shit called my name. As much as I needed to ghost, I also needed a good night sleep, needed time to think. Change my game plan. “I’ll stay tonight. Not sure what’s gonna happen tomorrow.”

A phone buzzed. Tucker yanked a cell out his pocket, read the screen, stuffed it back into his jeans. “I’ll leave you to it then.”

My stomach protested, reminding me I hadn’t eaten in too damn many hours. “Don’t suppose you’ve got a car I can borrow? The one I drove here needs to disappear.”

“Pull the sedan behind the barn. We’ll help you ditch it later.” He yanked a set of keys out of his pocket, tossed them my way. “There’s an old Ford parked around back. She’ll get you where you need to go. Just bring her back. She was my first love.”

“No problem.”

I shot him a nod, then headed out, missing the hell out of my bike.

# # #

The Truck Stop Diner hadn’t changed much since I was a kid, even after a recent remodel. The same rusted three-tier sign still stood tall above the pines, visible for miles from any approaching direction on the highway. Fresh gravel had been laid in the lot in lieu of pavement, which somehow suited the landscape, and the million-dollar view was still a sight under-appreciated by those of us who’d squandered our youth in the small town of Whisper Springs.

A cowbell rattled when I entered. A feisty redhead greeted me and pointed to the only empty table. “Grab that one. I’ll be with you in a sec.”

I sat, my bones protesting, my muscles screaming, my weary head perking back to life when I spotted a wild head of auburn hair.

Moriah.

Damn if my mood didn’t shift.

The beauty who’d given me a rigorous workout mere hours ago sat alone, facing the window, gaze on the lake in the distance. She seemed eons away, lost in thought. My thoughts drifted to those creamy thighs, her soft moans. Her damn smile. She’d been a great fuck, best I’d ever had, but more than that, she’d made me laugh.

I’d thought she was gorgeous in the bar, a little sex kitten with an attitude, but damn, in the light of day, the sun hitting her skin, those freckles dotting her nose and cheeks, the girl was downright edible.

The thought of another go ’round had me shifting in my seat.

“Hey,” came a soft voice behind me.

Blondie.

The one woman I would lay down my life for.

My throat clogged when her son, my only living relative, bounced to my side, held out a hand, and announced, “I’m Rocky James Mason. Welcome to The Truck Stop.”

Fuck if I didn’t smile like a kid on Christmas morning.

I gave his hand a good shake. Nice to meet you, Rocky.”

“Do you want a milkshake?” he asked, nodding, as if willing me to sayyes.

A fuckin’ milkshake of all things. My stomach grumbled, but hell if I’d turn the kid down. “You gonna make it for me?”

The little tyke stood taller. “I make the best milkshakes. Be right back.” Off he sprinted, leaving me alone with his mother, Slade Mason, the chick responsible for my first boner. The only woman I’d ever set sights on and hadn’t boned.

“How’s the girl?” she asked, sliding into the seat across from me, setting me on edge.

“Sleeping. Healing.” I considered the child’s night terrors and roughed a hand over my aching scalp. “Physically, anyway.”

Slade tilted her head, seeming to study me. “You heading home today?”

Home. What a fucking joke. Home was a refuge most people took for granted. Although Blondie had been present for most of my youth, and she knew damn well what “home” had looked like for me and Addy, I held back any sour retort. Wasn’t Slade’s fault, the cards I’d been dealt.

Blondie shook her head, soft coils of hair falling over those huge blue eyes. “I get it. You don’t have to say a word. Just know that I’m here if you ever need anything.”

“Pretty Boy’ll skin me alive if he thought you and I were back to being friendly.”

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