“California.” Heck, yeah!
“All right! Shall we get this show on the road?” I was so ready to get started. This was a new chapter in my life. I had no clue where my storyline was going to head, but I was willing to turn the pages one by one to find out.
He didn’t answer me, but opened his door and climbed in. So, not the gentleman type. That’s okay. I was a big girl. I looked back at the truck stop one last time. Was I really going to do this? Take off with a stranger and travel across the country with him?
“Yes. Yes, you are, Livia,” I told myself, and strode off towards my new home for the next month. This was going to be something—whether it was a good something or a bad something remained to be seen.
Chapter Two
Killian
This woman had some screws loose. That or something really terrible had happened to her, something that made her so desperate that she would come up with this crazy deal. I could be a serial killer, or even just an asshole who thought women owed him something. She climbed into the cab of my truck, and looked around. Her blonde hair was blown out of the braid she had it in. Right now she could pass for a crazy woman.
“Oh, wow. Very spacious, and you have a bunk bed. Perfect!” she said, giddy. Thank fuck that my friend Joel wanted to ride with me occasionally. Otherwise I would have never gotten the bunk feature, and went with just the solo sleeper.
“I’m not gonna have to deal with cops or anybody trying to find you, right?” It was a thought that crossed my mind after she left. She could be a runaway from her family, and I wasn’t interested in being put in the middle of it. Just another reason I should have said no to her proposal, except there was something in her eyes that told me not to, that she needed this like she needed air, and fuck if I was going to let this woman suffocate.
I didn’t really need the money; trucking was something I started doing because I enjoyed being on the road. But fifteen grandwasfifteen grand.
“Nope, I’m twenty-six, single, and on my own for now. No worries. Nada.” She was practically bouncing in her seat from excitement. Christ, one of those women. Bubbly types. Never gonna stop. I didn’t reply and occupied myself with starting the truck.
“Here.” She handed me an envelope.
“Rob a bank?” I took it and started counting.
“Yep, just last night. It’s why I’m so desperate to get out of here. Can’t be too many blondes in this area that fit my description.” That I could agree with. Her hair was very light, almost platinum, and currently a mess. But it still looked good on her. Her body was small; she was probably only five foot five, weighing a buck twenty-five. She was wearing black leggings and a black sweater that came down to mid-thigh. But what really stood out was her face. Her cheekbones were high, her lips were all pink and the top and bottom matched in size. Then there were her eyes. She was looking at me now, trying to see if she had gotten me to crack up from her little joke, but I wasn’t laughing. I was stuck staring into those eyes. Different colors, something I hadn’t seen before. It was like staring into space. You never knew what it held; so many secrets, so much knowledge of the world, and yet untouchable, except to a lucky few. Which reminded me—I needed to focus on counting the money to make sure we were good to go. We were; she hadn’t lied. I logged my start hour in the books before buckling up.
The truck started to roll once I put it into gear, and this shit show was officially on the road.
“So, Lemarque, right? That’s what the other guys were calling you.” I looked at her briefly then back to the road. Not sure if I wanted to give her my first name or not, so I ended up just staying silent, focused on getting onto the highway.
“I’m Livia.” She grinned at me, her light and happiness was making me feel like an old grumpy bastard. Playing the part I was feeling, I just huffed at her.
“Right, silent type. No worries. I can be quiet for a little while.” She looked determined. My clock on the dash said8:10 a.m. I bet myself a pack of Twizzlers the next time we stopped that she wouldn’t be able to make it thirty minutes without talking.
The silence was pleasant, too bad I was right and it only lasted eighteen minutes.
“So what do you transport? I noticed the big trailer behind us, but it’s just like a normal container.” She looked at me expectantly, her eyes wide, wanting to learn about everything. She seemed more like a college student, than a twenty-six-year-old.
“Cars.”
“Cars? I thought they transported cars on those stacked, open trailers?” She wanted me to explain more. I sighed; this is why I didn’t hang around people any more. I was shitty at small talk. A trucker’s life was perfect for me. You’re alone. No small talk.
“I transport classic and exotic cars for private clients.” She smiled that I gave her a bigger answer than one word.
“That is awesome. I’m more of a simple car girl myself, but whatever people are into, ya know? Keeps you busy, I’m sure,” she said and then seemed to be content with what she’d learned and took to looking out the window.
We were about forty minutes away from the dealer, and, not for the first time since agreeing to this deal, I thought about how this whole month was going to go. She hadn’t asked to piss yet, so that was a start. I could share my prepped chicken wraps with her until we hit a grocery store in San Diego once we dropped off the cars. As long as she didn’t cause chaos to my regimen, I’d live.
I had survived worse than a little blonde with a bubbly personality staying in my rig. Unless she was a slob. Being in the military had made me hyper-organized. I had a spot for everything, and I knew that even though she had just one bag with her, that bag could explode and cover every inch of my space. My body shuddered just thinking about it.
“You can put your bag in the back.” I nodded towards the bunk area in the rig.
“That’s okay. I actually like being cramped a little. Just another weird thing about me.” For some reason, I wanted to hear what the other things she thought were weird about her.
Moving on, I watched the traffic on I-4. People could be idiots around trucks, so I needed to be on the watch, and prayed I avoided an accident with these Mickey Mouse tourists.
Thankfully, we missed most of the traffic as I took the off-ramp towards the dealer. When we pulled into the car lot, I parked and got out to meet Roger, the owner of the cars I was transporting. This guy wasn’t as easygoing as the others I’d met. But he was a popular car dealer for most of my clients.
