by BJ Blakely
“Deal,” Jax echos, taking my hand and leading me back to Tilly’s.
As we head back, I can’t help but think one thing.
The only thing that’d make this better is a ring.
28
Epilogue
* * *
Jax
November
“You sold how many paintings?”
I’m cruising along the sister highway of I-35N to Bear Springs with my beautiful boyfriend and his adorable cat Tobias by my side, manning my rig.
I’ve built more amazing memories in the past 2 months than I have in a fuckin’ lifetime.
Every truck stop, every city we park in, Logan never ceases to blow my mind.
He paints every day, and he hangs his works in the back of my rig, right behind our seats.
But even I, his biggest supporter, didn’t expect him to sell ten paintings in a single afternoon.
“Ten,” Logan repeats proudly, crossing his arms and staring triumphantly at the road ahead. “I sold ten freakin’ paintings. Can you believe that?”
His words fucking floor me. I let out a shocked gasp and turn to my talented boyfriend, my heart bursting with warmth.
“Damnit, Logan,” I rasp, my eyes filling with tears. “You’re the most talented, special, and beautiful man I’ve met in my entire fucking life. I’m so goddamn happy you're my boyfriend.”
Logan lets out an emotional wail and tosses the iPad I bought him to run his business onto the floor. “You’re so sweet,” he cries, thrusting his arms around me. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”
“Ay,” I yelp, pushing his arms away. “Knock it off. What did I tell you about hanky panky while we’re driving?”
“You said I’ll crash the rig. And I’ll be on the hook for everything the SUCME insurance doesn’t pay.”
I nod wisely. “Exactly.” I snort. “I know you’re making bank as an artist, but you don’t have the funds to pay for a damaged rig quite yet.”
Logan turns to look through the window. “I wouldn’t be so sure of that.” He runs his fingers through his hair as he takes in the scenery. “Three of my regulars, B. Riggs, L. L. and J. J., love my work. They’ve bought every single one of my paintings, and always shower me with special requests. They especially like the paintings of us truckin’ under a sunset. I think it turns them on.”
I snort. But the meaning of his words hits me a second later. Who likes his paintings?
They turn who on?
“Wait,” I say slowly, playing back what he told me in my head. “You have three regulars? And they’ve bought all your paintings?”
Logan nods. “Yup. I’m a talented artist. They support my creative pursuits.”
“And what were their names?”
“Uhh.” Logan furrows his brow. “They didn’t tell me their names.” He clears his throat. “Just their initials.”
Oh God. This is bad. “Then repeat the initials.”
Logan gently removes Tobias, his perfect cat who he’s brought with us for our adventure, from his lap and picks up the iPad.
“B. Riggs, L. L. and J. J.” Logan snaps the iPad cover shut again. “They’re my biggest fans.”
“They even sent me a picture of one of my paintings hanging on their walls. See?” Logan adds.
He slides the iPad onto my thighs.
I glance at the screen. Sure enough, Logan’s very first painting, Sunset at the Beach, is hanging on “L. L.”’s wall.
The same painting I listed on ArtSell my first night helping Logan start his shop, when I posted the link on my socials.
I happen to know that wall. I’ve seen it many times. At Lucas’ house.
Why didn’t I guess Logan’s paintings were being snapped up by my goddamn friends?
“Okay, Logan.” I take a sharp breath and stare straight ahead. “I have horrible, awful, very bad news, but you can’t get mad at me. Never shoot the messenger.”
Logan bites his lip. “Is something wrong?”
I say nothing. I stare straight ahead, dreading my duty.
Damnit, Lucas. I’ve barely known Logan a full year, and already my best friend is driving a truck-sized a wedge between us.
Logan turns to face me. “Jax,” he begins, a worried expression on his face. “If something’s wrong, please tell me. It’s your duty as my boyfriend.”
I groan and palm the steering wheel. I try to think of ways to break the news to Logan, but I draw a blank. How do I tell him that my friends have been single-handedly supporting his art business?
But suddenly, I get an idea.
Pulling over to the side of my road, I whip out my phone and dial Lucas’ number. Thank fuck he answers on the first ring.
“Jax,” Lucas says brightly. “What’s up?”
I growl and dig my fingers into the phone. Oh, this bastard. “Lucas,” I bark, fighting off the urge to cuss him out right then and there. “The jig is up. You have ten seconds to confess what you’ve done, or I use my moderator privileges to remove you from the Big Rig chat.”
Lucas lets out a groan. “Jax, honey,” he begins, sighing dramatically. “You’re going to have to be more specific than that. I do a lot of fucked-up shit, and I have no idea what you’re talking about. It could be one of a million things.”
Logan shoots me a puzzled glance, but I direct my attention back to Lucas. “Confess,” I shout, pounding my steering wheel. “Tell my poor boyfriend what you’ve been doing to his ArtSell shop. He’ll wait.”
Logan’s jaw drops. “Whaaat?”
I ignore this also. So does Lucas. “Ja-ax,” Lucas groans. “You can’t get mad at me for wanting to buy Logan’s beautiful paintings. For fuck’s sake, I’m a patron of the gay arts. Supporting new LGBTQIA+ artists is in my blood.”
“Find someone else to support besides my boyfriend,” I shoot back.
Lucas snorts. “You’re the one who wrote that Logan said he needed to sell paintings to chip in for gas money. You’re a horrible boyfriend. Tell Logan I wouldn't have to support him if you’d buck up and be a man.”
Logan gasps. “Gas money?” he whispers. “I never said that. It’s a lie.”
I groan. The recollections of that night in the California hotel room seep back into my mind.
After Logan fell asleep, I did write that he needed to sell paintings to help pay for our road trip.
It was a lie.
Obviously, I never expected Lucas to see Logan’s paintings.
“Don’t get mad at me for buying Logan’s paintings,” Lucas says with a snort. “He’s a very talented artist. I especially like the bacon one in the back of your rig.”
Logan lets out a heartbroken groan. “Oh my God,” he laments. “Your friends have been single-handedly supporting my art business. Here I was, thinking I was a real artist, but it’s only your friends leading me on.”
Lucas clears his throat. “You are a real artist.” His voice is firm and unwavering. “I love your work. Your paintings are hanging in the back of my rig as we speak.”
My phone buzzes, and I flick it open. Point in case, Lucas has sent a picture of the back of his rug, decked out in Logan’s paintings.
Though Logan’s still justifiably upset, he can’t help but cock an eyebrow at the picture.
“Hmmm.” Logan mulls this over.
Lucas snorts. “Buddy,” Lucas barks. Logan snaps his attention back to the phone. “If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t have sold a single painting. And if Jax hadn’t posted your shop to Pinterest, I never would’ve discovered you. You have zero right to be mad.”
Logan’s jaw drops. He turns to me. “You have a Pinterest?”
I groan and roll my eyes. “Yes.”
Lucas snorts. “Jax has an amazing Pinterest. He shares the most adorable updates and posts cute pictures of you online.”
Jesus Christ. Out of all the social media channels my friend to stalk me on, it had to be Pinterest.
What a nerd.
Logan turns to
face me. “You never told me about your Pinterest.”
I groan and shake my head. “It cross-posts from our couples Instagram. Believe me, Logan. You’re not missing out.”
Lucas shouts so loud he nearly busts my hearing out. “You have a couples Instagram?!”
It’s too much to take. “Damnit, Lucas,” I bark. “You’re stirring up more trouble than good. I wish you hadn’t called.”
Lucas snorts. “You’re the one who called me, asshole.” Lucas clears his throat. “Tell Logan the boys and I want more pictures of gay guys on the beach. They’re adorable. They make me wish I’d become a lifeguard instead of a trucker, but alas. Life in the ‘pass’ lane is what’s for me.”
Logan lets out a gleeful squeal. “Thank you, Lucas.” He rubs his hands together. “I’ll get on it tonight.”
Logan turns to me. “Don’t be mad, Jax. I’ve gotta keep my best-paying client happy.”
Lucas lets out a belly laugh. “You’re cute.” He hums in a sing-song voice. “I’ve gotta run. Don’t be a stranger. Hit us up in the Discord chat tonight.”
I groan and move to end the call. “Thanks, asshole. Bye.”
“Bye.”
I snap off the phone. I turn to Logan, who’s grinning at me. “Jax…” Logan says slowly.
I groan and pull the rig into gear. “I’m not discussing it,” I bark. “Lucas can fuck right off.”
“Jax.” Logan’s voice is sharp and fierce. I have no choice but to face him, and when I do, Logan is beaming. “Your friends single-handedly support my art business. Why didn’t you tell me?”
I roll my eyes. “Let’s not blow it out of proportion.” I clear my throat. “You’re talented as hell. I’m sure you’d sell paintings without them.”
Logan scrunches his face together. “I’m not sure about that.” He sighs. “There are millions of painters trying to make it on ArtSell. Competition for sunsets is un-fucking-believable. I don’t even have an art degree. With all the talented painters out there, I’d be surprised if I sold a single one.”
I shake my head. “Or,” I say at last. “You’d be the artist to eclipse the rest. But you’ll never know, since my stupid friend bought all your paintings.”
Logan glares at me. “Jax.”
I sigh and turn to face him. “What now?” God, he’s so cute.
At least he’s not mad at me for lying about saying he needed to sell paintings for gas money.
I guess when it comes to making a living with your art, the ends justify the means.
Logan sighs. “This is a long time coming, but now is the perfect time.”
I furrow my brow. “This doesn’t sound good,” I say at last, biting my lip. “Are you breaking up with me?”
“The opposite, actually.”
I stare into his blue eyes. They’re so fucking stunning and deep, and it takes no time at all for him to sweep me off my feet.
But I ignore the warmth bubbling inside of me and focus on his words.
Logan takes my hand in his. “Before I met you,” Logan begins, directing his gaze towards my stick shift. “I was a little server in a little town, without even the tip money saved up to buy my brushes.”
I furrow my brow. While he hasn’t gotten to the point of his story yet, it certainly doesn’t sound like a breakup.
At least not yet.
Logan digs his fingers into mine. “Try to pay attention, please.”
“Sorry, sorry,” I grumble, forcing my gaze back to his. “I’m listening.”
Logan clears his throat. “Before I met you, I was a little server in a little town, without even the tip money saved up to buy my brushes. But everything changed when your rig got stuck in Bear Springs. You took my blowjob virginity at the Truck n’ Munch glory hole and my ass virginity at Sweet Dreamin’. Even more importantly, you stole my heart.”
I try to speak but I can’t. I stare at Logan, trying to figure out what’s going on, but it’s like my brain has gone fuzzy.
It almost sounds like Logan’s gearing up to pop “the question.”
But…
Wait.
I’m supposed to pop the question. I’m the older one in the relationship.
Unless…
“Oh my God.” I bring my hand to my mouth. Is Logan serious? Oh my God. He wants to switch it up and ask me?
Logan blinks back tears. “Ever since our night together at Tilly’s, my heart has been yours. And now that I know you browbeat your friends into supporting my dreams, I can’t hold off a second longer.”
“Jax,” Logan says with a dramatic gasp. “Will you marry me.”
Tears well in my eyes.
Forget that he thinks I “browbeat” Lucas, Jasper and Riggs into buying his paintings. Forget that we’re in the middle of the shoulder lane with the blinkers flashing. This young man wants to marry me.
Holy shit. Logan wants to marry me.
Logan’s breath hitches. “Yes or no. Please.”
My limbs are shaking. “I didn’t know you were going to do this,” I gasp at last, taking his hand. “You’re not pranking me?”
Logan growls at me through his tears. “I’ve never pranked you in my life and you know it.” He lets out a wail. “It’s a yes or no question. Will you marry me or not?”
The earnestness in his trembling voice convinces me of his sincerity; it sends me barreling over the edge.
“Yes,” I cry out, my voice choking with emotion. “Oh Logan. What the fuck. Yes, I’ll marry you. With all my fucking heart.”
Logan wails and throws himself in my arms. “Good.” He cries and sobs into my shoulder, then pulls something out of his pocket.
“Because Forest and Max helped me make a ring at work. I’ve been carrying it around for a week, but the timing never felt right.”
Oh Jesus. My heart. My poor cholesterol-clogged heart. “It’s beautiful,” I cry, taking the ring on my finger. “It’s the most perfect thing I’ve ever seen.” The wire frame fits snugly on my finger.
It has a little 3mm painting of a truck where the center diamond should be.
Logan snorts and adjusts it to the right size. “We’ll get real rings later. I couldn’t wait.”
“It’s perfect.” I grip Logan’s jaw and bring his lips to mine. I kiss him, hot and hard.
Fucking fireworks explode over our rig, taking us to the goddamn stars.
I recall the sunset we watched last month at our “we’re-a-couple” party at Tilly’s, and how I felt like we were part of that scene.
Now, we are a part of that fucking scene, of every goddamn scene.
Our love is so fucking strong it paints us into everything.
I break off the kiss. “I love you,” I whisper, running my finger over the ring. Jesus, it’s perfect. So fucking special to me.
“I love you too.” Logan’s voice is airy and breathy. All of a sudden, he thrusts the ring box to the floor and leaps across the center divide, throwing his legs over mine, throttling me and kissing me hard. “Are you sure we can’t get up to any hanky panky?”
“I’m sure,” I rasp greedily. I’m so fucking hard. So is Logan. But I’ll be damned if I break my vow of chastity in my rig. “No hanky panky in Mr. Big.”
Logan makes a pouty face. “What if Mr. Big wants it to happen?”
I shake my head. “He doesn’t, believe me. Mr. Big thinks that having sex in the driver’s seat will ruin the moment.”
“Oh.” Logan snorts. “Well, maybe we can get it on at Sweet Dreamin’.”
“That sounds like a plan.” I smack his ass. “Sweet Dreamin’ it is."
"I love you,” Logan whispers hotly against my lips, kissing me one last time before we pull back onto the road.
"I love you too,” I rasp back, squeezing his supple ass. “You’re the best fucking boyfriend I’ve ever had, and I’m glad as fuck we’re getting married.”
“Me too, Jax.” Logan kisses me, hot and hard. “Now let’s go back to Sweet Dreamin’.”
“B
uckle up.”
I step on the gas. The rig hums with life as we pull onto the highway and start the journey to Bear Springs.
My heart swells with pride as we start the first day of the rest of our lives.
* * *
THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING MY FIRST BOOK!
* * *
This was such a joy to write. I hope you had as much fun reading it as I had writing it.
* * *
There are THREE novels currently written in this series happily awaiting release on BJ’s computer, and BJ is hard at work on the fourth.
* * *
Turn the page for a FREE sample of BJ’s upcoming story Truck Me…
29
Truck Me
FREE KINDLE SAMPLE
* * *
Max
“He said to wait for him in the alley."
My throat constricts as I take in my friend Logan’s words.
It's the night of his engagement party, and apparently, one of his fiancé's best friends wants to hook up with me.
I don't know which friend it is, but they're all smoking hot.
Looks like my life as a virgin is finally coming to an end.
“Please tell me you're not lying."
Logan snorts. "Not lying. But if you keep stalling, Mary Beth is totally going to catch wind of the plan and nip it in the balls, and you’ll have to start your job at Betty’s next month as a virgin."
My stomach tightens, and instinctively, I flit my eyes around Tilly’s Tavern, the bar where Logan‘s engagement party is being held.
Empty bottles and cups of punch mingle with the throngs of sweaty truckers who’ve come to celebrate Logan and Jax’s engagement, but I don't see Mary Beth, thank fuck.
The last thing I need is the kindest woman in my life who also thinks I’m still the kid she rescued from my good-for-nothing parents five years ago sabotaging the first chance I have to get my dick wet.
