Provocative Professions

by S. E. Hall

  His jaw gapes as he turns to look at me.

  "Eyes on the road!" I slap his arm, watching my life flash before me. "Jesus! Isn't there like a test or a manual or some shit you have to peruse before they let you drive one of these? 'Cause I'm thinking eyes on the road should be number fucking one!"

  "Sorry, got distracted by the amount of bullshit you're spewing! You do realize you just described yourself to a tee, right?"

  Fed up, I reach for the panel of knobs and buttons, searching out the radio. "How the hell do you turn on some music in this thing?"

  Pompous smirk beaming, he uses one finger to push the button. "You press on. It's in the manual."

  We've been in the cab of this semi for less than three hours and have spent every second trading barbs. The score is me twenty-three, him an impressive nineteen, but that's top secret information.

  "Pick. A. Song. Paige," he snarls, apparently willing to settle for any trash rather than channel surfing for a musical genius. "Or better yet, turn it off. Finish your captivating story about how you pulled a gun on your ex."

  Oh yeah, I'm bored as fuck, so I may have divulged that little tidbit.

  "Only if you tell me about all the chicks you took on ride-alongs. Did they get to find a good song?" I push the off button with a flourish.

  "No."

  "So you were cranky and tone deaf with them too?" I keep poking the beast, his attention trained on the snowy road ahead of us.

  "No, I wasn't anything with anyone because you're the first woman who's ever ridden with me."

  "But you said—ahh!" I gasp in semi-impressed comprehension. "You made them up? I knew you were egging me on, but this level of deception!" I tsk. "I'll pray for your soul."

  He shoots me a sidelong crooked grin. "Way too late for that, I'm afraid." He chuckles. "But good lookin' out. And it worked. Now finish the 'Janie's got a Gun' story."

  Diverting topics, I mumble, "That song sucked."

  He grabs his chest in overdramatized disgust. "You can't pray for my soul since you're the devil! Aerosmith? Suck? I oughta kick your ass outta my truck."

  "Just that song. Calm down, fangirl."

  He snorts. "Nice, twenty-four you. Now finish the fucking story already, you pulled the gun..."

  "Hate to piss on your parade, but that was the end of the story. I didn't shoot him, he ran. End of story. What else would've happened?" I relax against my seat, back aching. Not that I'll let him know it.

  "Who's got their ears on? Juicy Lucy here, come back." A rough but still feminine voice on the CB fills the cab and I double over in snorting laughter.

  "Oh my God." I fight for air. "Did she say Juicy Lucy?"

  "Yep." He pops the reply off his tongue with a tiny snort of his own. "I hope somebody answers her so you can hear. She's a trip, on all the time."

  Before he can protest, I grab the talking thingy and press the button. "Hey Lucy, you got Throbbin' Robin. Come on."

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see Vaughn smile wide, shaking his head in amused disbelief. If I'm capable of giddy, then that's what I am, salivating for her to play with me.

  "Coming in clear, Robin, nice to meet ya. Got bit by a Mama Bear, bad day. How's yours? Over."

  I look at Vaughn, who's already snickering. "I have no idea what she just said."

  "Means she got a speeding ticket from a female cop. Shit," he mutters.

  "I'm sure she'll get over it." I laugh easily. "Or is it trucker code, 'one of us gets a ticket, we all feel it?'"

  "Road's closed ahead," he says suddenly, and I follow the direction of his finger to flashing signs on both sides of the highway up ahead.

  "So what now, we turn around?"

  "Paige, honey," he rubs a hand over his grin, "you can't just turn a semi around. I'll have to take a different route is all, no worries. I need the CB a minute, though." He reaches out his hand.

  I listen, eyes glued to the road, as Vaughn talks with other drivers, a series of numbers and trucker lingo rerouting us to a side road that's not closed. When Vaughn signs off and breathes a huge sigh of relief, I join him.

  "Hope you were done talking to Lucy," he jokes, hollow and unfeeling, what I know is an attempt to soothe me, and blindly he seeks out my hand with his own. "We're good to go, babe."

  When he squeezes, I give one back.

  "You want me to drive?" It's a ridiculous offer, but we need some levity in this cab as soon as possible. The alternate route is narrow, winding, and steep. Vaughn's knuckles on the wheel blanched out an hour ago. It's been a pretty easy winter so far, but the past few hours the snow's been coming down fast and the road is already in need of a good plow.

  His laugh is nervous. "I got it, but entertain me. Tell me something."

  "Like what?"

  "Anything. Do the rambling girl thing. All your secrets."

  "You make that sound so easy," I reply. "Where is everyone anyway? This road is dead." I ask, sitting up taller to look out the fogging window. There's nothing but a blanket of snow covering fields? Forests? I can't tell through the downpour of white. I do know we haven't passed a house or any other vehicles in too long for my liking.

  "Not a lot of us use this detour unless we absolutely have to, which we do. It's the faster way to get my load delivered anyway, so just sit back and don't change the subject again." He throws me a quick smile, all sweet and alluring.

  "Fine, you want to chat? How many times have you had CB sex?"

  "CB sex?" he parrots me with a small snicker, though I'm positive he knows exactly what I mean.

  "Yeah, like phone sex."

  "Honestly?" he asks, leery.

  Shit, do I want to know this? I nod, surer than I feel. "No lying to me," I tease.

  "Promise not to judge me?"

  I reach over and playfully nudge his arm. "Come on, spit it out! How many times and…" My hands fly up and cover my mouth. "Oh my God, have you ever with Juicy Lucy?" I'm appalled and intrigued at the same time, waiting for his answer.

  He's grinning to himself when he turns his head my way and says, "Never."

  "Shut up!" I drawl. "I don't believe that for a second!"

  He's all laughter now. "Is that what you'd be doing if you drove a truck? Having CB sex?"

  "I don't know." I shrug my shoulder and sit back. "Depends. You know any Dirty Dans?" I can't even force myself to sound ashamed. The thought of me and him, Vaughn, not some imaginary Dan, over the CB, like at work…I'm well aware of the fun that could be had.

  "Well, you have my handle, so if the mood strikes—fuck!"

  His posture stiffens, his grip on the wheel impossibly tight. "Paige, trailer's sliding. You buckled?"

  "Yeah, but—" I tense, beginning to feel us lose traction.

  "Hold on, baby, there's a bar above your head. Lock your legs against the floor if you can and duck your head. Now!"

  My eyes go wide, holding tight and burying my head in my lap as the entire truck begins swinging back and forth like the tail of a caught fish. I hear Vaughn's cussing and grunting, peeking up to see him fighting to maintain control.

  "Shit! Paige!"

  All too quickly there's a lightweight, floating, disoriented fog as we tip. Then noises—glass breaking, Vaughn screaming my name. I feel him grabbing my hand, my shirt. I hear yelling, then there's a hard smack, the worst pain I've ever felt shooting through my head. Right before it all fades to black, I swallow blood. It tastes like warm metal.

  Chapter 10

  "Thank you."

  I hear his rushed exhale as my eyes blink open, heavy and sore, to find Vaughn's face tilted toward the sky. They try to close again, struggling against my confusion and the throb in my head, but I force them to stay open. Unsure what's happening, I lay somewhere, the frigid earth at my back, as his attention is cast down to me.

  "There she is." He cradles my cheek in the warmth of his palm, the severity in his features melting when I clear my throat. "Brown has never looked more beautiful, Paige. Let me see those eyes a
gain. Come on, Firecracker, show 'em to me."

  I fight the weight of my lids, the ones begging to close. I want to see him, know he's here, and give him what he begs of me.

  "Paige," he whispers, the lingering undertone of panic in his usually playful voice striking deep in my chest.

  A smile tugs at my lips when my eyes finally cooperate and meet his, the most riveting blue they've ever been, brimming with an unrecognizable emotion I'm too groggy to decipher.

  It's beyond clichéd, and if I had half my wits about me, I'd be laughing at us both…but in this moment, it's as though time stands still. Cold no longer nips at my bones, there's no fear, no worry—only us. Just two people that, no matter how much I deny it, have a connection. An instinctive, effortless bond that refuses to cede its power.

  His hand slides down my cheek to my mouth, his thumb tracing the contours of my lower lip while the other strokes up, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. It's a gentle act, tender and almost…romantic. And true to form—fucked-up freak—I cower from his touch, dying a little inside as his hand retreats and that affectionate expression I was just admiring fades.

  I brace myself, unsure what to expect from this version of Vaughn…the whole "softer side of Sears" campaign threw me for a loop too. And good thing it did. There's no instant sarcasm or sexual innuendo; instead, he takes a minute, staring off into the distance before glancing back down at me.

  "You still got a voice in there, Firecracker?" he finally asks.

  "Always," I grate out, the sound heinous to my own ears, like that of someone who actually eats gravel. I think it's safe to say I could use a drink, and as though he read my mind, he's up digging through a bag and offering me a bottle of water before my thought's even finished.

  I try to sit up—try being the very non-operative word there—and crumple back again in pain and frustration. "Thanks," I manage, carefully manipulating my disoriented, aching body onto my side and taking a sip.

  "Might wanna nurse that one. We only have two left."

  I tear my lips away from the bottle I'm anything but nursing and stare up at him in confusion. "What?"

  His only reply's the shift his eyes make once around the area, mine following. Reality crashes over me in a crushing blow, one I refuse to break under, so I take in my new surroundings, squelching any drastic reaction.

  Trees, trees, and more trees. But wait, that's not all folks, we can't leave out the merciless snow barreling down, piling on my eyelashes when I look up to cuss it and its mother. Nature. Know her? Yeah, she's a bitch.

  "We wrecked, huh?"

  He nods in slow motion, the tiniest hint of temptation curling the sides of his mouth and sparking a twitch in his brow. More than anything, he's itching to respond to my mindless question with something along the lines of "can't a guy take you out in the middle of the woods and throw you on the ground without automatically being accused of wrecking?" But he doesn't, probably thinking now is not the time for jokes.

  Well, he better snap out of it! Swiss Family Fucking Snowdrift is more than enough change for one day. The only way we'll get through this is if normal Paige and recognizable Vaughn, the guy I know, the one that can make me laugh when it's the last thing I want to do, work together. I need him now more than ever.

  "We hit a patch of black ice," he begins. "The trailer fishtailed, I couldn't recover control, and the truck flipped. I know it's freezing, but I had to get you out. The, uh—"

  Truck flipped? Not just a wreck. We could've been killed! His gloom and doom suddenly makes a whole lot more sense now as an icy dose of my own earnest sets in.

  "Help me up?" I want to see what we survived, what he saved me from.

  "Are you sure?" His teeth worry his bottom lip, eyes shrouded with concern. "I don't want to move you if it hurts. I know the ground's cold, but…" He runs his hands through his hair then down his grave face. "Fuck! I'm so sorry, Paige." He dips his head, shoving his hands deep in his pockets. "I never shoulda brought you with me. I knew the weather was gonna get bad, but I figured worst case scenario…" His eyes peer up, a sad smile of regret, guilt, and apology on his lips. "I figured maybe we'd get snowed in together somewhere—not this. Not…" He drops to his knees beside me and holds my hands.

  "Hey, Vaughn, look at me." I manage to sit up on my own this time, forcing his face to mine with a hand to his cheek. "It's not your fault. I may not be as brilliant as the Channel 5 weathergirl, but I know what snow looks like and saw it falling when I willingly climbed in the truck with you. So quit taking all the credit, Showboat. And help me off the ground, my ass is numb."

  He's on his feet immediately, grasping my hands, a genuine smile showing itself…for all of five seconds. With every groan or hiss I make, though I'm wincing as little as possible, his whole body tenses until he's finally had enough. With a barbaric growl, he sweeps me up into his arms. "Talk to me. Where you hurting? Your head?"

  "I think I just twisted my ankle. No big deal. Lucky as hell, considering." I don't have the energy to pinpoint every ache and I don't want him beating himself up over an accident, so I wrap my arms tight around his neck and bury my face in his chest, leaving out the part about my pounding temples and ringing in my ears. "Did you call someone? We should stay in the truck to keep warm. Our jackets aren't thick and you had gloves in your—"

  "Paige," he kisses my cheek, "the cab, final resting spot of our phones and the CB, is smashed under a tree branch. We'll just have to wait 'til they figure out I didn't make it with my load and come looking for us. I'd gone off route so it could be a while." He bends, no falter in his hold on me as he grabs his pack off the ground. "Can you hold this in your lap? I always keep some water in it in case I break down. There are probably some snacks and other shit in there too."

  "Great." I roll my eyes. "So a couple bottles of water and some jawbreakers are gonna keep us alive for God knows how long?"

  "I said other shit too. I'm pretty sure there's beef jerky."

  "Jackpot!" I bellow, gnawing on the inside of my lip to contain what else I really want to say...which doesn't work. "Is that all men ever pack? What about granola bars or, I don't know, maybe a first aid kit?"

  "First aid kit was crushed under my seat, and my seat was crushed under the tree branch," he explains easily. "But wait 'til you're hungry. Jerky will sound a whole lot better then. And there may be a damn granola bar—or five! Didn't search it, Paige, snagged it and got the hell outta Dodge. Now hold on, I'm pretty sure I saw a driveway a few miles back. Might be a house at the end of it."

  My head flies up from the warmth of his chest and meets his tortured gaze. "You can't carry me for miles! Aren't you hurt anywhere?" I give him a quick once over while he keeps walking, not a bit out of breath.

  Kinda hot.

  Not what I should be thinking right now.

  "Think it, babe." He winks down at me. "Glad your concussion didn't mess up your vision."

  "I didn't mean to say that out loud," I mutter.

  "I know." He laughs for the first time since I came to. At least my bi-polar bouts have a wide range—from flashes of humor to alleviate realism to grumpy to appreciative and slightly turned on—and are keeping him entertained and level-headed.

  Hoisting me up gently to reaffirm his grip, he makes a joke, finally. "I may just start randomly hitting you over the head with shit. I'm liking concussed Paige."

  Although I'm relieved to see signs of the Vaughn I know returning, I ignore that last comment, lost in possible scenarios of Plan B and C if there's no house at the end of this driveway he thinks he may have seen.

  "Wait!"

  He stops short, eyes wide. "What? You okay?"

  "Oh, yeah." I swat away his hypochondria with a lazy flick of my hand, his response an annoyed frown. "What were you hauling?"

  "Huh?"

  "The load you were hauling, what was in it?" I ask again, begging the universe for a trailer packed with aisles 1-20 of a superstore…in the groceries section.

 
"Hate to piss on the parade in that gorgeous smile, but it was nothing more than auto parts."

  "Car parts!" I groan, hanging my head. "Seriously?"

  "Yup." He starts walking again, ignoring my grumbling. "Don't worry, babe, there's one thing we still have, wreck be damned. You get my motor revving." He laughs.

  "Oh, for God's sake, Cheesedick, at least try," I shoot and score.

  We continue our trek over fallen trees, down hills, and up steep climbs, switching from swapping jibes to playing a game of I Spy to entertain ourselves.

  "Brown and fast?" I question his latest clue.

  "Mmm hmm."

  My eyes roam the endless blanket of white surrounding us—you'd think something brown would stick out—but I come up blank. Thank God bears, often brown, hibernate during the winter or my ass would be outta his arms and running in the opposite direction of the woods, not trekking deeper into them, no matter how my ankle feels about it.

  From the corner of my eye, I catch something move behind a patch of white bumps, which I assume are bushes in the spring.

  "Damn, what I'd give for your .22 right now," Vaughn says, looking off in the same direction.

  Completely still now, we both wait and a moment later a large deer emerges. I think I hear myself gasp, and Vaughn stiffens. The creature is magnificent and calm until he realizes we're actually there, and then, like a gust of wind…he's off.

  "Would have made a damn fine dinner."

  I roll my eyes, yet don't bother to hide my smile. "And you'd clean and cook him where?"

  "Hey, I hunt, you do the cookin'. And if you do it well, I'll provide the dessert." His suggestive tone, teamed with dancing eyebrows, draws out my laughter.

  "First, we don't have shelter, let alone fire or an oven. And there will be no dessert on this little adventure."

  "Head injury. You're not yourself yet, I get it." His hand glides down my back and grips my ass. "But don't try and lie to us both."

  His fingers caress the skin at the waist of my jeans in subtle brushes before slipping inside and sizzling over my flesh. My arousal soars to life, warming me in depths that want to beg for more.