Trouble With a Cowboy

by Sullivan, Sandy

  "Uh, no. I'm actually looking forward to having my way with your body," she said. Forward is good with him, she decided. I have to stay on my toes or he'll have me upside down before I know what hits me. She tapped her finger to her lips. "You know on second thought, you can keep the peeing standing up. If I have to give up multiple orgasms to be able to pee without squatting, I'll keep the multiple orgasms."

  His mouth opened and closed several times. She couldn't help the smirk she knew lingered on her lips. He must have decided to let her remark lie, because he turned around in his seat to stare back out the windshield.

  The radio came on with a twist of her fingers and she plugged in her IPod. "I hope you like country and old rock. It's all I have on mine unless you have one. I can plug in any kind to play over the radio. I have Garth Brooks, Luke Bryan, Bryan Adams, Clay Walker, Sugarland and several others on there."

  "We can play yours for a while and then we'll play mine. Work for you?" he asked, glancing at her from his side of the cab.

  "Yep."

  Song after song played in a wide variety of music. She found herself singing along to some and tapping her fingers on the steering wheel. The penetrating look from her traveling partner sent chills along her arms. All she would have to say is one word—yes—and her forced abstinence would be over in a heartbeat.

  Comfortable silence surrounded them. Big daddy had been right. It had always been her policy to never allow anyone inside the cab of her truck, much less a man, but here sat the one guy who had invaded her life like a tornado. Everything he touched molded to his specifications, including her. She wasn't sure she liked it. Independent was her middle name or should have been. A lesson in stubbornness directed toward Tucker would teach him something about women.

  Her parents had hated her job from day one. The day she’d told them she quit college to get her trucker's license, she thought for sure her mother would stroke out.

  "You want to do what? You can't be serious, Jacie," her mother said, her hand to her throat in shock. Dorothy Harlin Hawkins, born and raised Southern Belle, stood wide-eyed behind her father's desk, her hand on his shoulder. Her mother came from old money. She could trace her roots to the Mayflower and her great-great-great grandfather fought in the Civil War as a decorated major for the Confederacy. Lucky for her mother's family, they socked their money into Federal funds knowing the Civil War wouldn't be kind to the states who succeeded, enabling them to hang onto their home.

  "I quit college and I've enrolled in a vocational program to get my commercial driver's license."

  "What exactly is a commercial driver's license?" her father asked. Carl Hawkins was a self-made workaholic. Early on, he invested in Tennessee Walking Horses and built his farm into a multiple thousand acre estate where he bred, trained and sold the expensive horses. The farmhouse she grew up in actually could be classified more of a mansion. Five bedrooms and four bathrooms within ten-thousand square foot plantation style home, spoke of the money socked away. A multi-million dollar trust fund would be hers someday—the day she finally conformed to her parent’s wishes, married and quit driving trucks across the country.

  Polished and sophisticated is what she'd been raised to be. Jacie, on the other hand, left it up to her sisters. Marcia, Adriana and Olivia personified the Southern Belle in the Hawkins household. She left it up to four brothers to carry on the Hawkins name. All but Jacie and Olivia so far, had married old money, but her youngest sibling had her sight set on one of the local breeders. Her parents had made their disappointment apparent on many occasions, to Jacie. As the middle daughter, there wasn't the pressure her older siblings had, but Jacie felt it nonetheless.

  "A license that enables me to drive eighteen-wheelers, father."

  "You mean those huge trucks on the highway driving from one end of the country to the other? Jacie Margaret, have you lost your mind?" her father ranted, jumping to his feet, rushing around the edge of his desk.

  "It's what I want."

  "But, Jacie…"

  "No, Mother. I've already made up my mind. I can't be who you want me to be. I'm not cut out to be the pretty thing on some man's arm. I'm me, and it's all I'll ever be. I can't help it if you are disappointed, but this is something you'll have to accept."

  She shook her head to clear the weary thoughts. Driving meant everything to her, but her parents still hadn't come to grips with her choice. They fought her at every turn. Refusing to help her buy tires in Littleton screamed of their displeasure at her choice.

  "Something wrong?" Tucker asked, bringing her attention back to the coming darkness inside the cab.

  "No. Just thinking."

  "About?"

  "What I'm hungry for."

  The wicked grin spreading across his lips made her heart skip a beat.

  Well, shit. I didn't mean it like that.

  "I meant food. You know, chicken, burgers, Mexican."

  "I'm good with whatever you want, darlin'."

  Whipped cream on his chest would be nice. After all, handcuffing him to his bed gives me all kinds of ideas.

  "We haven't made very many miles yet. I think if we grab something quick, we can make Amarillo before we stop for the night."

  "Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't there some kind of rule about truckers driving only a certain amount of time every day?"

  "Yes, but since I didn't drive for the last two days, I can technically drive fourteen hours. The animals won't be able to handle that long in the trailer though. I know of a place outside Amarillo where we can let them out to stretch their legs while we sleep."

  "Or do other things." His eyes sparkled with a mischievous look. She had to wonder what he had in mind or if her ideas mirrored his.

  Heat crawled up her neck as she shifted on the seat to relieve the pressed between her thighs. Damn the man could turn her on. "Uh, no." She checked her mirrors, changed lanes after going around another trucker and saw a sign for several types of fast food at the next exit. "There's a good truck stop coming up with fast food nearby. Let's hit it, gas up and we'll be good until we reach Amarillo."

  "You're in charge."

  A quick glance at him revealed nothing but a smile, and a playful wink.

  This is either going to be a real long trip or an extremely short one. I haven't decided yet.

  One gas pump sat empty to her right under the bright lights of the canopy and she pulled up close enough for the gas hose to reach her tanks. The sky looked bleak with the dark, low clouds hanging off in the distance. If she didn't know better, it appeared to be getting ready to snow. "Great. I love driving in shitty weather," she grumbled, climbing down from the truck and slamming the door.

  Tucker emerged from around the passenger side. "Do you want anything from inside for the road?" he asked, sliding his credit card into the pump so she could fill up.

  "Yeah. Grab me a bottle of water. A big one and a Snickers. I need my sugar fix for after dinner."

  The brush of his lips on hers, took her by surprise. It appeared like he was going to make her regret her decision of strictly business partners.

  "No problem. I'll be right back."

  Jeans fit snug against the curve of his ass. Her cheeks puffed out with the breath she released in a rush. Never in her life had she felt this sexually wound up.

  "Good grief. I need to get my head out from between my legs. If this keeps up, it'll take us over a week to hit Vegas because we'll be stopping every hundred miles to screw around." The dial on the gas pump ticked off the hundreds of dollars it cost to fill her tank, while she watched in rapt attention, waiting for Tucker to return.

  "Well if it ain't Jacie. How the hell are ya, honey?"

  She laughed when a big, burly, six-foot something man picked her up and swung her around in a circle. A swift punch to his bulky arm only bounced off the rock hard bicep of his upper limb.

  "It's great to see you, Sam. Where you been? You haven't even been on the radio lately. I miss our talks, ya know."

&nb
sp; A frown crossed his face and she felt her heart flip over. Something wasn't right.

  "Are you going to introduce me to your friend, Jacie?" Tucker stopped at her side, handing her the water.

  One look at his face showed the irritation she'd heard in his voice. If she didn't know better he almost sounded…jealous.

  "Tucker, this is Sam. A good friend of mine. Sam, this is Tucker. My cargo belongs to him."

  "What kind of cargo?"

  "An—"

  "A PBR American Bucking Bull," Tucker said, interrupting her, much to her irritation.

  She silently compared the two men and unfortunately, Sam came up short. Tucker and Sam stood pretty close to the same height. Sam had bulges and more muscle mass than a professional wrestler, whereas Tucker had the lean build of a hard-working man. Someone who doesn't sit on his hands if there's work to be done, but jumps in and gets physical right alongside his men. Tucker's baby blues could be warm and soothing like earlier as they were about to have sex or icy blue if he was angry. Sam sported big brown eyes like a big teddy bear. That's exactly what she thought of her friend.

  "Easy you two." Stepping between the two men, she told Sam about their trip to Vegas, a little about the trouble she'd had in Oklahoma and how Tucker had helped her out. "We've got a business deal. I run the bull to Sin City, he's paying for expenses."

  "I never thought I'd see the day. You're hot for this guy," Sam snarled.

  Where the hell did that come from? "Wait a minute here. You aren't my father nor are you my brother so back off, Sam. If anything goes on between me and Tucker, it's none of your business."

  "You said it, darlin'," Tucker replied with what looked like a sneer to his lips. The swift elbow to his abdomen cut off his words.

  "Does your daddy know you're truckin' with some guy and spreadin' those gorgeous thighs for him?"

  "We aren't sleeping together, Sam. Even if we were, it's no concern of yours."

  "How about I make a phone call then, eh?"

  "All right, Sam, I've had enough of this. You may be my cousin, but you can't tell me what to do. I'm well over eighteen and legal is all fifty states. Again, I repeat. It's none of your business what I do or don't do." She crossed both arms over her chest and tapped the toe of her boot on the pavement. "So you know, my daddy left me high and dry in Littleton. Pissed is a mild word for what I'm feeling toward him right now."

  "Let's get going, Jacie," Tucker added. "We need to get some food and get back on the road if we're gonna make Amarillo tonight."

  She glanced one last time at Sam, unhooked the gas nozzle to replace it on the pump. Tucker opened her door, holding it for her while she climbed up in the cab. As the warmth of his hand skimmed over her ass, she almost planted her boot in the middle of his chest and shoved. He'd get a piece of her mind once he made it into the cab…if she didn't leave his butt right there in the middle of the truck stop.

  "Jackass," she grumbled.

  "What did you say?" Tucker asked, climbing inside the passenger side.

  "I called you a jackass. Next time we're around anyone I know, keep your damned hands to yourself. I didn't give you permission to manhandle me."

  "Whoa! Wait a damned minute here. I did not manhandle you."

  "Okay, don't molest me in front of people I know. I'm not a slut or a tramp. I don't go around sleeping with every Tom, Dick and Harry at every truck stop. Even if I chose to have sex with you on this trip, I—" Two fingers pressed to her lips to stop her words.

  "If we choose to have sex on this trip, it's between the two of us. Not anyone else. Casual sex works sometimes. I don't think of you as a slut, tramp, whore or any other word you might want to use. You are a very beautiful, sexy, irresistible woman. Yes, I want you, but there is more to you than sex. You're interesting to talk to. You have strong opinions on things and I love sparring words with you. Now, can we get moving? I'd like to be set up and bedded down before midnight." He retreated to his side, buckled his seatbelt and relaxed against the cool leather.

  With a turn of her wrist the ignition fired up on the truck as she grumbled under her breath about opinionated, stubborn, bossy men. Gears groaned and the engine growled as they pulled out around the other trucks.

  Food would be a requirement soon, especially when her stomach grumbled loud at the lack of sustenance.

  "Burgers?" she asked, sliding glance at Tucker.

  "Fine."

  Great. Now he's in a pissy mood. Nothin' worse than a man PMSing.

  The greasy burger joint not far from the truck stop served some of the best hamburgers in the state. With her mood at the moment, medium rare meat and fattening fries fit the bill. She pulled the truck next to a couple others sitting in the parking lot.

  "Don’t you think you’re getting a little close to the other truck with my trailer?"

  "No," she snapped.

  "Well, I do. Give it a little more room."

  Her teeth cut into her lip in an attempt to forestall the scathing remark she wanted to throw at his head. The words hovered on the tip of her tongue, but she refused to say them…yet. I’ll tell him exactly where to stick his opinion if he doesn’t keep it to himself. I will not tolerate anyone telling me how to drive, especially a man.

  She gave him a sickly sweet smile, cut the engine of the truck and popped her door open.

  "Are you sure it’s safe to eat here? This place looks like it might have roaches or rats," he complained. She lost hold of her temper.

  "Listen, Tucker, I’ve eaten here tons of times. It’s very clean inside. The food is fabulous and the people who own it are dolls. If you don’t want to eat here, then so be it, but I am," she spat before she spun around and stomped toward the door.

  "Well Jacie Hawkins. Ain’t you a sight for sore eyes. Where you been?" the plumb, graying woman squealed from behind the counter.

  "Hey, Marion. How’s my favorite diner owner?" Jacie said when the woman wrapped her arms around her shoulders and squeezed so tight she thought she heard her back pop.

  "Ah hell, honey. The same as always. All work and no play makes this girl dull." Marion released her and stepped to the side as her gaze fixed on Tucker over Jacie’s shoulder. "Well, well, handsome. Who have we here?"

  "Marion, this is a friend of mine…sort of. Tucker Marshall."

  "Tucker Marshall out of Austin?"

  "Yes, ma’am."

  "Come on in and sit right down there. I’ll fix ya right up. How did you get hooked up with my Jacie girl?"

  "We aren’t hooked up, Marion. I’ve got one of his bulls in the trailer behind my rig. I’m hauling his ass to Sin City for the rodeo," she replied, giving Tucker a small shake of her head, hoping he would understand her meaning and not say anything.

  "Uh-huh," Marion replied with a wink. Jacie knew she was screwed. Marion obviously had seen right through her façade of disinterest in her traveling partner.

  "Can we get some coffee please?" Jacie asked, sliding into one of the booths near the corner. The soft blue walls with white trim on the inside of the diner gave it the feel of an old soda shop from the ‘50s. Booths hugged the outside wall and a long, white counter graced the center near the kitchen. Metal stools with red vinyl seats sat under the edge of the counter, just waiting for the butt cheeks of some big, beefy trucker to park on it.

  Two cups of coffee appeared in front of them, but she kept her eyes on the menu. Not that she didn’t already know it by heart, but she didn’t want to see Marion’s knowing grin.

  "You ain’t foolin’ this old girl, Jacie Margaret. You know the menu better than I do."

  She shrugged and returned the menu to its holder near the sugar container. "A burger and fries. No onions. No tomatoes."

  "And for you, Mr. Marshall?"

  "I’ll have the same except bring on the tomatoes, just leave off the onions. And Marion, please call me Tucker. Mr. Marshall makes me think of my father. It’s not a real pleasant thought."

  Mmm. A piece of information I didn’t hav
e. Sounds like some bad blood there.

  "No problem, handsome. I’ll call you for dinner, I’ll call you for bed, but I won’t call you anythin’ but Tucker unless you want me to," Marion recited with a laugh as Tucker joined her.

  Marion walked away to place their order and Jacie glanced across the table to find Tucker staring at her with an unfathomable look in his eyes.

  "What?"

  "Nothin’. It’s one more piece of the puzzle."

  "Puzzle?"

  "The one called Jacie Margaret Hawkins."

  * * * *

  An hour later, the two of them waved goodbye to Marion and were on the road toward Amarillo. The sun had set, bathing the inside of her rig in darkness, but it didn’t stop the penetrating looks coming from Tucker. Anticipation rolled down her back, settling low in her belly. What would happen when they reached Vegas, she didn’t know and really didn’t want to think about right now.

  Right now, she struggled with the need to kill him.

  "You’re tailgating the other truck."

  She grit her teeth.

  "Slow down. You’re driving too fast."

  She bit her lip.

  "It’s snowing. Maybe we should put on the chains. You do have chains, right?"

  Her eyes narrowed and she cussed under her breath.

  The tires of the truck hit the rumble strip along the right side of the road.

  "Stay on the road, Jacie."

  All right! That’s it!

  The next off ramp, she took it.

  "What are we pulling off for?"

  She didn’t answer. The shoulder of the road looked like a good spot to her. She slowed the truck to a stop, set the emergency brake and cut the engine. Without a word, she opened her door, climbed out and slammed it shut.

  Don’t kill him. It’s fine. He’s has no idea…

  "What the hell is your problem?" he snapped, stopping in front of her as she paced back and forth in front of the truck.

  Darkness surrounded them except for one streetlight sitting several hundred feet down the off ramp. Huge snowflakes fell in a curtain of white, blanketing the ground and crunching under her feet.

  "One, two, three, four, five." She stopped and put her hands on her hips. "I promised God not to hit you, but you are pushing your luck."