Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 81328 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81328 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
He runs his hand down his face and blinks a few times, sitting closer to the wheel like it will help wake him up.
My eyes seek out the time on the dashboard. He’s been driving for ten hours straight, I think. I can’t remember when we left, but the sun is starting to set over the horizon and my legs and back are stiff as fuck from laying curled up in my seat. Stretching my arms and legs as much as I can in the cab of the truck, I blow out a bored breath. Since we left the hotel, we haven’t said much to each other. It’s been cold and distant, as if we’re preparing our acting skills for when we get back to the club.
“How about we pull over and stop for a minute?” I sit back in my seat, my foot tapping on the floorboard. I’m antsy and need out of this damn truck for a minute.
“No, I’m good,” he clips, almost as if he’s angry at me that we have to go home.
“I need to pee.”
Without a word, he hits his turn signal and we swerve to the exit ramp where the sky is lit by several businesses. I would ask him what his problem is but I know what’s wrong and I don’t want to talk about it any more than he does. This is the way it has to be unless he wants to be kicked out of the club and have his face cut up like Thane’s.
“There’s a gas station with a McDonald’s.” I point out my window, my mouth watering at the idea of hot fries.
“Food does sound good,” he mumbles and drives that way. At least we both agree on that.
Inside the truck stop, it smells of coffee and the place is mostly empty. I use the bathroom and can’t help but look at my stitches in my face as I wash my hands. It’s going to leave a scar, I can see the skin already turning a weird color where the black thread snakes in and out of my face. Taking a step to the drying station, I find the paper towel holder empty. Nice.
Drying my hands off on my shorts and head out of the large bathroom. Passing candy with an array of colors lining the racks, a sweet scent hangs in the air. I feel someone staring at me so I look up finding a man behind the register staring at me with his mouth hung half open, he doesn’t blink or say anything and it makes me anxious. Leaving the candy behind, I seek out Big Chief finding him already standing in the restaurant portion of the station, his arms crossed, looking up at the menu trying to decide what he wants.
“Do you want something?” he asks, not taking his eyes off the many options of greasy foods.
Looking up at the display screen, I settle on a cheeseburger, fries, and a Dr. Pepper. He gets a Big Mac meal and a sweet tea, and we sit at a table and wait for our food to be made.
We don’t say anything while we wait for our food, he doesn’t even look at me. Trying to hide the sting in my chest, I clear my throat and rest my hands on the table.
“So, I’ll drive for a while.”
He side-eyes me like I’m fifteen and asking to drive for the first time.
“No, I just got that truck. We can find a place to sleep and I’ll be good to go in a couple hours.”
“It’s not like I can’t drive it just because it’s new, pretty sure it handles just like any other truck.” Attitude thick in my voice, I can’t help it. Who the fuck does he think he is saying I can’t handle driving his truck, why? Because I’m a girl? My father taught me how to drive at a young age. If it has wheels, I can handle it.
“We’ll stop at a hotel, that way you can get your beauty sleep.” He stands up, crosses his arms and widens his stance. Even tired, his face holds a rugged handsomeness to it. A hotel is a bad idea, we will just get cozy again and cross lines that will make acting like nothing happened even harder tomorrow.
“I slept most of the way, I’ll drive so we can get home faster.”
Our order is called and Big Chief grabs the bag with one hand, the drinks with the other without arguing back. He turns and heads toward the exit and I hurry up behind him and snatch my soda from the cardboard holder, plucking the straw lying next to it, I stab the lid and take a big sip. It’s good, I needed some caffeine. Outside the station, the smell of exhaust and diesel from all the truckers filling up next door overtakes the crispy scent of the fries. The air is cooler than it has been, causing goose bumps to race up my legs. I hurry to the driver’s side of the truck and climb in, seeking warmth away from the night’s plummeting temperature. Big Chief comes to a halt just in front of the truck, looking at me sitting behind the wheel of his truck with an annoyed look contouring his handsome face. Shaking his head, he decides to give in to the idea and get in on the passenger side. Shutting the door, he turns and puts our food on the console between us.