The Good Guys Box Set: TRUCKER, DANCER, DROPOUT, and A Trucker Wedding

by Jamie Schlosser

  “I thought you wanted me to be honest.”

  “I did. I do.” My words came out muffled. “Fuck.”

  She giggled again and I felt the mattress dip. Letting my arm fall to the mattress, I looked over to find Mackenna propped up on her elbow, seeming a little more sober now.

  “I want a compromise,” she said in that bossy, business-like tone I liked so much.

  “Oh, this is gonna be good.” I laughed. She was tenacious.

  “We do the friends with benefits thing—” She cut off my attempt to argue by holding up her hand. “You want me to trust you if we have sex, right? Show me how. I want to know what that feels like. Please?”

  She was begging—fucking begging—me to have sex with her. My thoughts went wild, trying to figure out a way to give her what she wanted, while also getting what I wanted, too.

  Conflicted, I rubbed a hand over my jaw. “I don’t know, Mack…”

  “Please, Jimmy,” she pleaded, obliterating my self-control.

  “Do you have any idea how hard it is to say no to you?” I asked quietly, feeling vulnerable.

  Playfully poking me in the chest, she grinned. “Then don’t say no.”

  “Okay, I’ll humor you. What do I get out of this?”

  “Well, there’s the sex part,” she pointed out. “Plus, if we’re having sex, then we won’t be arguing. That’s a win-win.”

  “Unless it’s angry sex,” I added with a wink. “That could be fun.”

  Mackenna rolled her eyes. “We’d need to lay some ground rules, though.”

  “What is it with you women and your rules?”

  “It’s important to have boundaries.”

  “Alright.” I sighed. “Let’s hear it.”

  “Rule number one—you can’t buy me flowers,” she said. I must’ve looked confused because she explained, “Flowers are a waste of money. If you’re going to spend money on something, at least let it be useful. Like guitar picks.”

  “Guitar picks,” I repeated, amused.

  “Now it’s your turn.” She made a ‘go ahead’ gesture with her hand.

  Shrugging, I toyed with a strand of her hair. “Don’t have any.”

  “Not even one rule?”

  “Nope. I don’t play by the rules anyway.”

  She gave my shoulder a shove. “I’m serious.”

  I laughed.

  “Okay, okay. Geez.” Pausing to think, I tried to think of something I wanted from her that she wouldn’t normally agree to. I snapped my fingers when it came to me. “You have to sing to me every day.”

  She gasped. “No way.”

  “You said I get a rule. That’s rule number two.”

  “Once a week,” she bargained.

  “Twice a week,” I countered.

  “Fine.” She huffed, and I smiled because I got my way.

  “What’s rule three?” I asked, distracted by the way her fingers explored the tattoos on my forearm.

  “Obviously, we can’t fall in love with each other, but I don’t think that should be a problem since we can’t go more than one day without pissing each other off.”

  “Next,” I said, purposely avoiding any agreement to rule three.

  “Your turn again,” she told me.

  Then a brilliant idea came to me. “You’re mine for as long as I’m here. One hundred percent exclusive.”

  Her face screwed up, causing an adorable wrinkle between her eyebrows. “That’s not really friends with benefits then. Doesn’t that mean we’re dating?”

  I shrugged. “Pretty much. I refuse to share you, so, no dating anyone else.”

  “Okay,” she gave in, and I had to restrain myself from doing a fist pump in the air.

  “I can’t believe I’m dating Mackenna Connelly,” I said teasingly, and she scoffed. “One of your songs is on the radio, and here you are, hanging out with a bum like me.”

  “Hey,” she said softly, her fingers traveling up to my bicep. “You’re not a bum.”

  “And you’re not as unfriendly as you want people to think you are.”

  Her lips turned down. “And you don’t know me as well as you think you do.”

  “But I’d like to.”

  “What do you want from me?” she asked, apprehensively biting her lip.

  “A lot of things,” I answered honestly.

  She sighed and the next words came out sluggish. “Today’s been a weird day.”

  “Maybe it’s time to sleep it off,” I suggested. “You’ll probably be dealing with one hell of a hangover tomorrow.”

  “Okay. But first, I have to pee.” Staggering to her feet, she made it across the room, and I heard the bathroom door shut in the hall.

  I fell back onto her pillows and closed my eyes. Her sheets smelled good. Clean and something that was distinctly Mackenna. I didn’t want to move. I wanted to stay right here. With her.

  When I heard her shuffle back into the room, I made a split decision. Keeping my eyes closed, I stayed still and tried to even out my breathing.

  “Jimmy?” She poked me a couple times in the chest. “Jimmy.”

  I feigned a snore.

  It took a lot more than a few shots and a beer to get me pass-out drunk, but she didn’t know that.

  I was a bastard for pretending to be asleep. Ultimately, I was forcing her to make a choice: stay here with me or go sleep on the couch. My intentions were completely innocent, though. I just wanted to be next to her. Feel her warmth and watch her sleep.

  And yeah, I knew how creepy that sounded.

  But also, my instincts told me to stay as close to her as possible. If anything happened, it would be a lot harder to keep her safe if I was in a different room.

  Staying completely still, I waited. I could almost hear Mackenna’s inner thoughts as she debated what to do.

  When she let out a resigned sigh and dropped her head onto the pillow next to mine, it took everything I had not to wrap my arms around her.

  This night had taken an interesting turn.

  I’d gotten Mackenna to agree to date me. Exclusively. Technically, we were in a relationship.

  For now.

  It was a giant victory and I gladly accepted it.

  Mackenna was a bed hog. Correction: she was a fucking starfish, just like the ones on her leggings.

  Those memes about co-sleeping parents with children who can take up an entire bed, despite being tiny? Yeah. It was like that. Only Mackenna wasn’t toddler-sized.

  Somehow I’d ended up lying on my back in the middle, and Mackenna was sprawled out on top of me, arms and legs spanning the width of the mattress. Her head was tucked below my chin, her lips resting against my neck. Every puff of her warm breath on my skin sent a jolt straight to my dick.

  My hard-as-hell dick, which was nestled right against her pussy.

  Even through the sweatpants, I could feel the heat coming off her center. My balls ached with the need for release and I knew I’d be rubbing one out in the shower later.

  Every now and then, she would sigh and wiggle a little.

  It was torture.

  Really good torture.

  To distract myself, I thought about my first day on the job at Hank’s. Nervousness took over as I wondered what tasks I’d be doing and if I would even be good at it.

  Would I fail at this, too?

  I’d been straightforward with Hank when I told him I had no experience with cars. When I was younger, I went through a phase where I liked to put together those model cars, but that wasn’t the same as working on actual vehicles.

  From the pinkish glow coming through the window, I estimated it was almost 7:00, but I didn’t want to leave yet. I allowed myself several more minutes of feeling Mackenna on top of me. And when I couldn’t hold back any longer, I wrapped my arms around her, placing one hand on the small of her back and the other by her neck.

  Brushing the hair away from her face, I ran my hands through the silky strands a few times. She shifted up my body, which
was a small relief for my dick, but it put my face right by the place where her neck met her shoulder.

  Running my nose along her skin, I inhaled. The smell of the water from the hot tub still lingered, but there was something else.

  Slightly sweet. Her.

  “Mack,” I whispered, my lips grazing her collarbone.

  “Hhmmff?”

  “I gotta get back home to get ready for work.”

  Quickly sitting up, she looked incredibly adorable in her sleepy, rumpled state.

  “I’m so sorry. Did I make you late? What time is it?” she babbled, rubbing her eyes.

  I chuckled. “No, I’m not late, but I thought I should get back before Grandma realizes I’m gone.”

  Nodding, she made a sound of agreement. But she was still straddling me, anchoring me to the bed.

  Unable to stop myself, I rubbed my hands up her thighs. “Baby, as much as I love seeing you like this—and I really, really love seeing you like this—you’re gonna have to get off me so I can leave.”

  Her eyes widened before she squeaked and ungracefully fell to the other side of the bed. Leaning her back against the wall, she covered her face with her hands.

  “Oh, my God.” Her voice came out muffled. “I’m so sorry for molesting you.”

  I threw my head back and laughed.

  “I’m not complaining.” Grabbing her ankle, I dragged her back over to me and placed her leg over my lap. “Text me today to let me know you’re okay. I’ll be over as soon as I get off work.”

  “You worried about me, James Peabody Johnson?” she teased with a smile.

  I decided to let her get away with calling me by my full name, because it was sexy when she was playful.

  Throughout my life, the unfortunate middle name had been a source of embarrassment. Dad always went on about how it was a family name and how I should be proud to have it. Honestly, it didn’t sound so bad passing through Mackenna’s lips. And if it gave her a reason to flirt with me, she could say it all day long.

  “Yeah, I’m worried,” I told her honestly. “Lock your doors. Stay by your phone.”

  “You’re kind of cute when you’re bossy.”

  “I’ll remember you said that.” I gave her knee a squeeze before reluctantly moving off the bed. “You should go back to sleep. There’s no reason for both of us to be up this early.”

  Mackenna seemed to agree, because she collapsed back into the pillows and pulled her purple comforter up to her shoulders.

  Fighting the urge to crawl back into bed, I forced my feet to move. Stopping in the doorway, I looked back at her. With a flick of her fingers, she gave me a cute wave before burrowing further under the covers.

  Hot water ran down my back as I braced my hand on the pink-tiled shower wall. My other hand went to my erection, stroking from base to tip.

  I ran my thumb over the barbell piercing just below the head and hissed when my balls drew up tight.

  This wasn’t going to take long, which was a good thing since I didn’t have much time.

  Closing my eyes, I let my mind go to a place it hadn’t gone yet. While Mackenna had occupied many of my thoughts since meeting her, I hadn’t allowed myself to give in to the fantasy of being with her.

  Now I couldn’t stop myself from imagining what it would feel like to have her touch me.

  The hand on my cock wasn’t mine anymore—it was hers.

  She was kneeling before me, her lips parted. Her delicate hand moved up and down as she stared at my dick with fascination and hunger.

  Stroking faster, I envisioned Mackenna taking me into her mouth, applying just the right amount of suction. Her tongue flicked over the piercing. She moaned, and I imagined feeling the vibrations in my shaft.

  The muscles of my abdomen and thighs tensed as I got closer to release.

  She bobbed up and down while keeping a firm grip on the base, moving her hand in time with her head. Water ran down between the valley of her breasts, her nipples stiff and pink.

  She took me in deeper, faster, her lips stretching wide to accommodate my girth.

  When those big stormy eyes looked up at me, it pushed me over the edge.

  “Fuuuuuck,” I groaned, the orgasm hitting me fast and hard.

  I kept my eyes shut for a second, trying to hold onto the fantasy of filling Mackenna’s mouth with my cum. I wanted her to take it all. Every last drop.

  The pulsing of my cock subsided and my hand slowed. I gave my dick one more tug before leaning back against the wall as I tried to catch my breath.

  Holy shit.

  If a simple figment of my imagination was that intense, what would the real thing be like?

  Hank didn’t waste any time getting me right into the dirty work. After giving me one of Travis’s spare coveralls, he passed me off to Colton and told me to have fun.

  First thing Colton had me do was shadow him on an oil change. He gave straightforward instructions, being sure to tell me how many quarts of oil to put in and how to check for leaks the customer might not know about.

  Then he rambled on for a good ten minutes about different kinds of oil for different vehicle models, and my head started to spin.

  I rolled up my sleeves and reached underneath the hood of the SUV we were working on next.

  “You should remove your watch,” Colton spoke up. “Getting it caught on something is a good way to get injured. Plus, you don’t want to break it.”

  Unbuckling the leather strap, I shrugged. “It’s already broken anyway.”

  “I bet my dad could try to fix it for you,” he offered. “He loves to tinker around with that kind of stuff.”

  “Seriously?” I asked. “That’d be cool.”

  “Yo, Dad!” Colton hollered and Hank’s head popped out of the office. “Jimmy’s got a broken watch.”

  Hank’s face lit up and he hurried over to us. Colton wasn’t joking—the guy was really excited.

  “Lemme see here.” Getting out a pair of bifocals, he inspected the watch in my palm. “Can I?” he asked, as if he could sense it was important to me.

  I nodded and let him take it.

  Flipping it over, his eyes bounced to me over the rim of his glasses. “I can try to get it working again if you want.”

  “Sure. It’s not like you can break it twice.”

  There was an extra hop in his step as he retreated to his office with my watch.

  Colton and I went back to work, and after we were done with another oil change, he showed me how to fill out the invoices for customers. Meanwhile, Travis replaced brake pads on a Ford pickup truck.

  “Is that something I’ll learn how to do, too?” I asked Colton, curious about the process.

  Grinning at my eagerness, he nodded. “In time.” Then he glanced at the clock on the wall. “Dad said you can leave at noon. It’s not very often that Travis and I are here at the same time. We thought we’d go over to Buck’s Tavern for lunch. You in?”

  I took a second to consider it because I was antsy to get back to Mackenna’s house, but I also got the feeling she’d been getting annoyed with all my ‘well-check’ texts.

  “Sure. I’ll just let Mackenna know I’ll be a little later.”

  Colton laughed and shook his head as he muttered, “Ball-buster, for sure.”

  Me: You okay?

  Mack: For the 75th time, YES.

  Me: What kind of leggings are you wearing?

  Mack: I thought you said you were only going to text me if it was important.

  Me: This is important.

  A picture came through. Flamingo leggings. I was grinning so hard my face hurt. I shot off a text, letting her know my lunch plans with the guys, then met Colton and Travis in front of the shop.

  We crossed the street to Buck’s, and as soon as we got inside, the smell of fried food made my stomach growl. The tavern was long and narrow, with a sleek wooden bar off to the right and about a dozen square tables in the dining area on the left. We chose to sit by the front window. />
  “What kind of food do they have here?” I asked, looking at the old laminated card on the table that listed burgers and fries as the Friday special.

  “If it’s fried, they probably have it.” Colton pointed at the tiny menu. “Taco Tuesdays are pretty popular. I would avoid Wednesday, though.”

  “What’s on Wednesday?”

  “The only day my ex works here,” he replied seriously.

  Travis started cracking up. “That’s only half of the truth. The other reason is Buck started experimenting with Chinese food. Let’s just say it’s not his forte.”

  I grinned. “Noted.”

  Like me, Travis’s hair was longer on top, but his fell past his eyebrows. He raked a grease-coated hand through the brown strands. Neither of the guys seemed fazed by the grime a hard day’s work left behind. I’d tried my best to get my hands clean, but there was only so much a bar of soap could do. I would need to invest in a scrubbing tool. Or maybe not. Maybe in time, I wouldn’t be bothered by the dirt either.

  A waitress came by, placing ice waters in front of us. After she took our orders, I turned the conversation back to work.

  “So, what’s my schedule gonna be like? I’ll be there as much as you need me.”

  “Monday through Friday, 9am to whenever the work is finished. We usually close up around 4:00 on busy days. No weekends at the shop, but sometimes we have transport deliveries,” Colton informed me.

  “Sounds great. You guys have an awesome business,” I told him. “Must feel pretty good to own such a successful company.”

  “It hasn’t been without struggles,” he said, looking serious. “Travis and I started helping out when we were fifteen, and there were times when Dad couldn’t afford to pay us. Thought he’d have to close up for good at one point.”

  “I’m not putting you guys in a bind, am I?” I asked, wondering if Hank’s generosity was putting him in a tough spot financially.

  “No way,” Travis chimed in. “We’re glad to have the extra help. A few years ago, we opened the truck testing lane to increase revenue. Then we added the transport company. I’m on the road a lot.” He hiked a thumb toward Colton. “Him, too.”

  “Did you always know you wanted to be mechanics?”