Page 19 of Possessive Trucker

“Whatever floats yer boat,” I tell him, smiling with a raised brow, not minding at all because I can see the effect it has on him, and it makes me think there’s more than just pie for dessert.

He wasn’t kidding when he said he likes to eat, and he ends up helping me finish my steak after all.

Once the pie comes out, I have to shake my head.

“It looks great Thorn, it really does but maybe for breakfast? I’m stuffed,” I tell him honestly and he shrugs.

“More for me. You won’t even try a little bite?” he teases me, cutting a thin slice and putting it between mine and his lips.

I take some pie and then some of him into my mouth, with the taste of Thorn winning out every time.

“It’s divine,” I tell him straight away. “But…” I clutch my belly with both hands. “I really do feel too full to eat anything else.”

“We can have it later or tomorrow,” he muses, putting it away as I notice the time on the clock on the wall.

“Later?” I ask him, surprised at how late it already is.

I feel the familiar and unpleasant stab of my life creeping back in. Wondering about my dad, reliving the argument we had when I left. How I’ve lied to him about finding work, knowing how worried he must be even though I left on pretty bad terms.

“You’ve had a big day,” Thorn observes, reading my thoughts some and taking both my hands in his.

“We don’t have to, but I wanted to show you around still,” he says and I readily agree to that, feeling lighter at the idea of having him show me around.

“We can worry about tomorrow when it gets here,” he assures me, and it’s like he knows just what to say to make me feel better without asking for any details or telling me how I should feel or what I should do.

“So… this is the kitchen,” he says, and I punch his arm gently before he wraps it around my shoulders, squeezing me close to him as he leads me back down the hallway.

The lower level of the house is big, and I start to wonder if the upper floor is the same once I notice the outstanding feature.

“I know, I know,” he mutters, almost embarrassed.

“I only use my room, the den and kitchen, bathroom… the rest of the place really is…”

“Empty,” I say, finishing his sentence but smiling about it before we both laugh out loud.

“I didn’t have you pegged as a hoarder,” I tell him, not surprised by his Spartan set up, which is mostly heavy, well made and practical things like furniture and ornate woodwork.

“I hope you’ll help me fill it up, the house I mean,” he says, suddenly stopping and turning me to face him.

“I mean it, Sophie, I love you and I want you to come stay with me here. I want this to be our home,”

I’ve got no objection, but just hearing him say it out loud. Hearing him say it with such intensity, knowing he wants me to be the one to share his life in this beautiful house, these beautiful woods. It’s a lot to take in suddenly.

“I meant what I said about the job, too,” he adds quickly, sensing how emotional I’m getting and changing the subject to more practical stuff.

“You don’t have to work if you don’t want to either. I’ve got plenty of money, you can even have your own room or rooms. Whatever you want.”

He stops suddenly, and I can tell it’s from him not wanting to sound like he’s pressuring me. But I can also see how excited he is, how happy he is at the idea.

And I am too, it’s just past midnight and I’m full of food. Spent from the bedroom too.

I’m exhausted. Tired.

Ready for bed.

Thorn looks wide awake but my farm girl body clock tells me I should’ve been asleep an hour ago. But I don’t want to spoil this. I want everything Thorn wants and he sense how I feel once again, making me squeal out loud as he lifts me up, sweeping me off my feet to carry me back to bed.

Our bed.

“I want your room,” I reassure him. “But I don’t want to get in the way. I can do plenty of stuff around here, your office… but right now,” I try to tell him, but a huge yawn cuts me off.

“I know Sophie, I know. It’s been a long day and I do get carried away sometimes… but that’s a yes, right?” he asks, beaming.

I nod, letting him have his way, carrying me to bed and telling me how we can talk about everything in the morning.

“Or late morning… or afternoon. We don’t have to be up early for anything if you don’t want to. I just want you to feel relaxed, at home.”

---