Page 3 of Trucker Daddy

I take the exit, pulling into the dimly lit rest stop. I park near the vending machines, cutting the engine. I reach for my purse, digging out my phone.

Oh my God. Forty-three missed calls.

“Jesus,” I mutter, scrolling through the notifications. Charles. My mother. My father. Over and over.

I hover over Charles’s name, my thumb dangerously close to the screen. What if I just...answered?

The memory of his hand on my arm—just a little too tight—flashes through my mind, and I shove the phone back into my purse. No. I made the right choice.

I slip out of the car, my heels clicking against the pavement. I head for the vending machine, desperate for caffeine. I fumble for change, shoving a few coins into the slot and pressing the button for a coffee.

The cup drops, steaming and bitter-smelling. I wrap my hands around the flimsy paper cup, the heat seeping into my palms as I lean against the machine, staring out at the quiet parking lot.

I lift the coffee to my lips, hoping it’ll do the trick, but the instant the bitter liquid touches my tongue, I gag. It’s like drinking ash, some of it dribbling onto the front of my dress. Annoyed, I brush the drops off roughly.

And then, I hear it. Laughter.

I turn quickly, trying to wipe the coffee from my chin, only to find a group of men standing just a few feet away, leaning against the wall near the restroom.

“What's the matter, Your Majesty?” one sneers, taking a drag from his cigarette. “Did you get it on your pretty little dress?”

The others join in, chuckling and muttering snide remarks. My cheeks burn with humiliation, eyes stinging with tears.

But before I can flee, a deep voice cuts through the laughter. “Shut the hell up.”

The command is firm, and the laughter stops immediately. All of us—me and the peanut gallery that was laughing—turn to look in the direction of the speaker.

As soon as I see him, I feel like the world has fallen from under my feet.

He’s tall, 6’4 maybe, with broad shoulders that fill the doorway, his full beard neatly trimmed. He’s dressed simply in fitted jeans, worn boots, and a plain black T-shirt that stretches tight over his chest, revealing the muscles underneath. His posture is confident but not in the arrogant way the other men are.

I’m drawn to him so strongly that I lift my foot to take a step towards him before I catch myself. What in the world is going on?

His eyes are dark, almost black, and they land on the group of men with a coldness that makes my stomach flip.

“Leave her alone,” he says, his voice a low rumble.

The men blink in confusion, clearly taken aback by his sudden presence. One of them mutters something under his breath, but the taller man doesn’t even acknowledge him. His gaze never leaves me.

And for the first time tonight, I feel something other than panic and shame. I feel…warm. Tingly. There’s a pulse between my legs, and my nipples are diamond-hard. He’s protecting me, and…it’s turning me on?

He steps toward me, and I inhale sharply. His eyes soften slightly as he draws nearer, his expression shifting from fierce protectiveness to something gentler. But when I look closer and dare to meet his gaze, I see a mirror image of the strange heat taking me over, a want just as powerful as mine.

“Come outside. Get some air.”

I nod, unable to speak, and follow him toward the door. As he holds it open for me, his eyes flicker briefly to the truckers, and they scatter, not a word exchanged.

He gestures for me to step outside. “I’m Garrett Hayes, by the way.”

Garrett. The name will be meaningful to me. I just know it.

“I’m Sienna.”

Outside, I let out a shaking breath. With all the pressure and attention off me, the sadness rolls back in. Everything is just so heavy, and the universe couldn’t even let me have a good cup of coffee. I wipe my eyes, but the tears come faster than I can stop them.

"Darlin’,” Garrett drawls, a distinct twang to his voice."What's going on? I can’t stand to see a woman cry.”

I know nothing about this man except his name and how magnetic he is, but the second I open my mouth to make an excuse, it all comes pouring out, unstoppable, a flood of everything I’ve been holding in.

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