Mother Trucker (Crownville Truckers Book 1)

by Moxie Darling

  The shower was heaven on earth. By most standards, it wasn’t fancy, but it was clean—her one and only requirement. The white tile gleamed, and, unlike Shifty’s, the grout wasn’t black with mildew. A neatly folded towel, bath mat, and washcloth sat on the counter, along with a plastic-wrapped cup containing a disposable toothbrush, travel-sized toothpaste, soap, and shampoo.

  It might as well have been the Taj Mahal as far as she was concerned.

  She was naked and under the hot spray in less than two minutes. Gasping with unadulterated delight at the blissfully hot water, she just stood there a moment, letting it rinse away her dirt and worries. What an unbelievable two days it had been. She’d killed a man, lost her ma and her virginity. It was no wonder she was acting like a hormonal teenager. She’d been thrown for the biggest loop of her life and she was still spiraling. The scariest part of all was not knowing where she was going to land. Were the cops looking for her? Would she be arrested for murder? Or had Jerry handled everything?

  Had he taken the fall for her?

  At the thought of Jerry and his quiet, unassuming bravery, tears burned her eyes, and she sagged against the tile. Was he sitting in a cell somewhere? Alone and afraid? Would she ever be able to repay him? Would she even see him again? A hundred questions she had no answers for swam in her mind. Shame swam there, too. Here she was, enjoying the simple pleasure of a shower while Jerry’s fate hung in the balance.

  As if bidden, her ma’s words came back to her with startling clarity. Wasn’t your fault, Maybelline, and crying over it won’t change a damn thing. Save your tears for when you really need ’em. Now pull yourself together and let’s go.

  Mae had been fifteen and desperate to learn to drive. Desiree had borrowed Ted Shifty’s Camaro—undoubtedly for a price—and off they went. Desiree, armed with cigarettes and a six-pack, took Mae to Buttermilk Road, the backest of back roads in Crownville. If you wanted to cruise with your buddy and smoke pot, you went to Buttermilk. If you wanted to park with your girlfriend and get lucky, you went to Buttermilk. If you wanted to teach your underage daughter how to drive while you tipped back a few? You went to Buttermilk. It was a desolate stretch of dirt road with nothing for miles but trees. Perfect for a knobby-kneed, wide-eyed girl’s first time behind the wheel.

  It had been terrifying at first, but after a while, Mae had grown bolder. Even Desiree had stopped gasping and phantom braking. Mae could remember looking over at her ma, cheeks warm with excitement and heart pounding, and Desiree looking back at her with a wink and a grin, cigarette and beer held expertly in one hand, while she gripped the “oh shit” handle with the other. It had been the biggest thrill of Mae’s young life.

  The fawn had come out of nowhere, and when Mae hit it, she’d screamed and slammed on the brakes. The car had fishtailed before coming to a stop. With a stuttering heart, she’d glanced in the rearview and immediately burst into tears. The tiny deer lay dead in the middle of the road. It had looked so small and broken that the grief had been overwhelming. She’d sobbed so hard she’d nearly hyperventilated, vowing to never drive again.

  After recovering from the initial shock, Desiree had tamped out her cigarette on the dash and tossed the butt out the open window. She’d then reached over and took Mae by the shoulders, giving her a firm shake. “Wasn’t your fault, Maybelline, and crying over it won’t change a damn thing. Save your tears for when you really need ’em. Now pull yourself together and let’s go.”

  At the time, Mae had refused to hear it, though, and she’d tearily demanded that Desiree take her home. Mae had gazed out the window with hot, damp cheeks the entire way, the vision of the forever-still fawn burned into her mind. She had eventually realized her ma was right. Killing the deer hadn’t been her fault. Even now, thinking about it filled her with sadness, but she had, indeed, moved on. And if Desiree was still alive today, she’d give Mae the same advice as she did back then.

  It didn’t make Mae regret Jerry’s potential plight any less, but it did give her the strength to chin-up-shoulders-back—her ma’s go-to cure-all. Sobbing and moping in a truck stop shower wasn’t doing Mae or Jerry any good. She’d get clean, locate a payphone, and find out what had happened to him. And after? She’d deal with Clyde. Sighing, she finished washing. By the time she turned off the water and stepped out, she felt human again. Drained and starving but human. She’d only had time to grab a few changes of clothes in her rush the night before, and as she stepped into a clean pair of cutoffs and pulled on a T-shirt smelling of cheap laundry detergent, she debated whether to hand-wash her dirty clothes in the sink or wait and hope she had access to soap and water later. Tying her wet hair into a quick ponytail, she decided on later. Right now, finding food trumped laundry.

  Gathering the dirties, she shoved them into her bag and froze when she saw a familiar green nylon leash.

  Ken.

  “Oh, God,” she whispered, her heart seizing. Somewhere amidst storming off and showering off, she’d forgotten all about Ken. If Clyde had left, would he have taken Ken with him? Or would he have tossed him in the parking lot? Ken was a scrappy little tomcat, but he was in unfamiliar territory, and it would be easy for him to get overwhelmed. The thought filled her with crackling panic. How could she have been so careless? Slinging the bag’s strap over her shoulder, she ran for the door. Despite their argument, she didn’t think Clyde would steal or abandon Ken, but people did things they normally wouldn’t when they were angry, and she didn’t really know Clyde. Breathless, she threw open the door and … almost ran right into him.

  She gasped, and he pushed off the wall he’d been leaning against, catching her before she could collide with him. “Whoa,” he murmured.

  The sight of him relieved her because it meant Ken was safe but also for reasons she didn’t want to admit. At least, not while she was so angry. Clyde’s hair was wet beneath his hat, and he wore a clean T-shirt. So, he’d showered, too. Knowing he’d been naked at the same time she had been was traitorously erotic. She stepped back, clearing her throat. “I didn’t see you.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said, still holding her wrist, and she knew he wasn’t talking about spooking her.

  She stared at him. “You were out of line.”

  His gaze didn’t waver. “I know.”

  “You can’t tell me what to do.”

  His jaw hardened, but he nodded. “I know.”

  Running out of things to demand apologies for, she crossed her arms over her chest and sighed. “What are we doing, Clyde?”

  He sighed, too, and leaned against the wall, the Subway bag he carried crinkling against his jeans. “About what?”

  She stared at him as if to say Really? When he said nothing, she shook her head and walked away.

  Behind her, he cursed. “Wait.”

  “No.”

  “Mae,” he warned.

  She passed endcaps of beef jerky and corn chips with a stubborn lift to her chin. Any fool could see they had no business being together. The most stable thing in her life at the moment was her cat. And Clyde, well, maybe he was married. Or a closet serial killer. Or maybe he simply loved being a bachelor. Whatever the reason, it was clear he was fighting his attraction to her tooth and nail, just as she was fighting hers to him. But if their volatile arguments proved anything, it was that they felt something for each other. And it was only going to get worse. If neither were willing to grab hold of the live wire lashing between them, then they needed to go their separate ways. It was that or succumb to what was fast becoming an unbearable temptation.

  Again.

  Sidestepping a customer, Mae pushed open the convenience store’s door and strode into the night. The electronic bell sounding behind her told her Clyde was hot on her heels. She stopped, looked left and right for any sign of a payphone. Shifty’s had one, but it was a dying relic. In the age of smartphones and hybrid cars, payphones were becoming a thing of the past. When she didn’t see one, she cursed, resisting the urge to stomp her foot. Withou
t a destination in mind, her storming away from Clyde seemed more childish somehow.

  “Mae, dammit, wait,” he said as he caught up.

  All around them, rigs pulled in and out of the lot, their lights swinging over the grounds, casting moving shadows. The sound of gravel crunching under tires and the rumble of engines filled the air, along with dust kicked up by the merry-go-round of traffic. She turned to him, the nighttime breeze tossing a few strands of her hair in her face. It was entirely possible she was wanted by the law. Standing on the well-lit sidewalk in plain view of what was probably multiple security cameras wasn’t the brightest idea she’d ever had. “What do you want?”

  “Where are you going?”

  “That’s a good question,” she said, gazing out into the lot. Everyone she saw had a plan. They would gas up and go home or to work or out with friends. When they pulled onto the highway, they knew if they would be turning left or right. They knew where they were going. Mae, however, was an aimless arrow. Letting out a tired breath, she turned to him. “I think I should leave.”

  He nodded. “Okay. Let’s go.”

  “No,” she said. “I mean I think I should leave. You should go. In opposite directions.”

  He frowned. “What are you saying?”

  She sighed. “I’m saying you nearly beat a man because you thought I was about to give him a blowjob.”

  His jaw ticked. “I’m sorry.”

  “That’s my point, Clyde.” She shook her head. “What are we doing?”

  “We’re about to have dinner and hit the road. That’s what we’re doing.”

  She pursed her lips. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

  He stared at her. She stared back.

  “You don’t want me, Mae,” he said.

  Tucking the windblown strands of hair behind her ear, she countered, “Just like you don’t want me?”

  For a moment, she thought he might finally admit, like she had, that this thing between them was getting out of control, but then his expression became carefully neutral as if he’d schooled it into place by sheer force of will. “Just like that,” he said. “You’re young, and you’ve been through a lot. You’re vulnerable. I was just trying to keep you from doing something you’ll regret.”

  His deflection and the fact that he’d same as called her an impressionable child hurt more than she’d anticipated. “Really,” she said, struggling to keep the emotion from her voice. “That’s what you’re going with?”

  Her expression must have given her away, though, because regret flickered in his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, but a woman’s voice interrupted from behind him. “Clyde? Is that you?”

  Clyde turned, and Mae saw a petite, pretty blonde walking up to them, her legs tan and toned beneath her too-short denim skirt. She wore cowboy boots and too much makeup, and two young boys straggled behind her, arguing with each other over a plastic airplane one of them carried.

  The change in Clyde’s demeanor was immediately noticeable. He stiffened, his brows drawing together harder than Mae had ever seen them. “Hey, Lila Jane.”

  Lila Jane smiled at him, and Mae suddenly felt blander than butterless mashed potatoes. Despite the revealing clothes and I’m-trying-too-hard makeup, Lila Jane was beautiful. It was a white-trash beauty. One Mae knew well. She’d met dozens of Lila Janes in her life. She didn’t like judging someone right from the get-go, but she’d been around the block enough times to know a maneater when she saw one. And the fact that the maneater in question was looking at Clyde as if he was a juicy bite of steak she’d overlooked on her plate only gave Mae more incentive to take her leave. Maybe Lila Jane was the reason behind Clyde’s bull-headed hesitation. The two were certainly looking at each other as if they had a past that went way beyond hi-how-are-ya.

  Mae did her level best to ignore the giant spike of jealousy burrowing its way into her. She had no claim on Clyde. Something he’d made clear. And she had better things to do than twiddle her thumbs while he reunited with an old flame. She cleared her throat, interrupting. “I’m going to go.”

  “No,” Clyde said, looking at her over his shoulder. “Stay.”

  As if noticing Mae for the first time, Lila Jane glanced at her, and Mae could almost hear the claws sliding out of her fingertips. “Oh, hey, sweetie,” Lila Jane cooed, her smile placating. “Didn’t see you there.” She held out a hand tipped with glossy red-painted acrylic nails. “I’m Clyde’s wife.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Pilot Travel Center

  Jackson, Ohio

  Clyde watched Mae’s walls go up as if on a hand crank, and he inwardly cursed. Of all the damn times for him to run into Lila Jane. “Ex-wife,” he corrected, willing Mae to look at him.

  She didn’t.

  Unperturbed by the correction, Lila Jane looked Mae up and down, her expression one of a lioness sizing up a kitten. “And you are?”

  Mae looked at her, and for a moment, Clyde thought she’d rise to the bait. Her beautiful eyes narrowed, and her cheeks colored, but she only said, “Leaving.” With that, she turned and walked away, her pale, slender calves flashing in the dark.

  He started to follow her, but Lila Jane grabbed his wrist. “Hold up.”

  “Get your goddamned hand off me,” Clyde snarled, pulling free. He was over the shock of seeing her for the first time in nigh on a decade, and he was sure as hell over this little territory-marking routine. He hadn’t been her territory in a long damn time.

  She had the nerve to look offended, and she took her irritation out on the two boys playing tug-of-war over a plastic airplane beside her. “Boys!” she snapped, pulling a five-dollar bill out of her purse and thrusting it at them. “Go inside and get mommy a Mountain Dew.”

  The older of the boys, who looked very much like Jason—Clyde’s onetime best friend—snatched the money, stuck his tongue out at his brother, and ran for the store. The younger, who looked nothing like Jason, yelled, “Hey! Wait up!” and gave chase.

  Lila Jane let out a haggard sigh but switched back to vixen mode once the boys were out of sight. “Damn heathens,” she said with a sultry laugh. “So, how you been, Clyde? You look good.”

  “How’s Jason?” he asked, and as he stared at her, he realized he didn’t miss her anymore. Didn’t even hate her. In fact, all he felt was annoyed. He wanted to find Mae and fix … whatever it was between them. Lila Jane was just an old, dusty record he used to play, and he hadn’t listened to vinyl in years.

  She grimaced at the reminder but didn’t slow her roll. “Oh, don’t be like that, baby,” she purred. “Me and Jay got divorced last year. He ran off with some skank from the tire shop.” She pulled a pack of cigarettes from her purse and lit one. When she sucked the ember to life, she exhaled and crossed one arm over her chest, tears brimming in her eyes. “A nineteen-year-old. Can you believe that shit?”

  Though it had been years since he’d seen Lila Jane, Clyde knew the waterworks and quivering bottom lip were as fake as her eyelashes. There had been a time when the sight of her in tears would’ve made him yearn to protect her and kill whatever or whoever had made her cry. Now? They only inspired disdain. She’d made her bed, and for all he cared, she could rot in it. Karma was a bad, beautiful bitch.

  “Yeah, I can,” he said and turned to leave.

  She hurried after him, her cowboy boots clacking over the concrete. “Clyde,” she said. “Don’t go. Talk to me.”

  He whirled on her so fast, she stumbled, and he was forced to catch her. For a moment, they stared at each other, and down deep, beneath all the makeup and self-loathing, he glimpsed the old Lila Jane. She was young and scared and lost, and the teenage boy in him that had loved her more than life reached out. But the distance was too great. The bridge had been burned. And the ashes of what had been now lay in a sooty heap on the funeral pyre of their youth. “Go back to your kids, Lila Jane,” he said, his voice cold. Hard. Final. “There ain’t nothing for you here. Not anymore.”

  Te
ars filled her eyes, and this time they were real. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I never told you that, but I am.”

  He’d waited so long to hear those words, and now that he had? He felt … nothing. Extricating himself from her, he made sure she saw that nothingness reflected in his gaze. “Goodbye.”

  She became desperate and bitter all at once. “I don’t know who that whore was, but she ain’t me. What we had is once in a lifetime, baby.”

  He paused, glanced over his shoulder at her. “I sure as hell hope so.”

  Then, he walked away, leaving her stunned and speechless and alone.

  Just as she’d done to him ten years ago.

  At the end of the sidewalk, he stopped and looked around, the Subway bag swinging in his fist. Where would Mae go? Back to the rig? Had she left him?

  The thought cut him deeper than he’d expected, and he wanted to kick his own ass for the way they’d left things. And, still, he’d meant what he’d said. He was no good for her. He was out of practice and bent in all the wrong ways from his first failed go-round. He couldn’t give Mae a hand-holding, hearts-and-flowers relationship, and she deserved nothing less.

  None of that stopped him from wanting her.

  From wanting to touch her. Kiss her. Keep her.

  And, at the very least, feed her.

  He headed for his truck, hoping like hell she was there and wondering what he’d do if she wasn’t.

  Would he let her go? It would be the best thing for her. She was smart. She wouldn’t jump in the first rig that offered her a ride. She’d grown up on a seedier lot than this one, and he knew she could take care of herself. And truth be told, she could probably find a far more respectable driver than him. One who wouldn’t fantasize about getting her naked. One who wouldn’t actually get her naked. Hell, even the fresh-faced pretty boy in the flashy purple chicken hauler would be a better choice than Clyde. He knew that.