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

by Jamie Schlosser

  They both nodded, then Colton added, “Growing up, it’s what I knew. I’ve always loved it.”

  “My favorite part is trucking,” Travis said. “I can’t imagine doing anything else.”

  Then his face lit up and he glanced over at Colton. For a few seconds, they seemed to have some kind of telepathic conversation.

  Turning toward me, Colton leaned his elbows on the tabletop. “Hey, what do you think of truck driving?”

  I shrugged. “Guess I’ve never thought about it before.”

  “You should consider it,” Travis said. “The power behind a semi. Life on the open road. There’s nothing like it. And we could use another driver.”

  At twenty-two, Travis and Colton weren’t that much older than me. When they talked about their careers, I could hear how much they loved it. Just like Mackenna, they’d found their calling. And again, I was both impressed and a little jealous.

  “It does sound pretty great,” I said honestly. “But I’m only here until August.”

  “Oh.” Travis looked disappointed.

  “Well it’s great to have you, even for a short time.” Colton elbowed Travis. “Especially with this guy’s wedding coming up. They’re taking a two-week honeymoon.”

  “That’s right. Hank said you were getting married. Congrats, man,” I said to Travis.

  “Thanks.” He had a goofy grin on his face. “And you’re invited.”

  Although I appreciated it, I shook my head. “Don’t feel obligated to invite me. You guys don’t know me that well.”

  Travis made a dismissive sound. “The whole town gets an open invitation. Literally. Angel decided to have it the same day as the summer festival because she wants everyone to be there. I heard you’re dating Mackenna Connelly. You should bring her, too.”

  I smiled because I didn’t have to correct him on my relationship status.

  Our burgers and fries showed up, effectively ending all talk of weddings, auto shops, and semi-trucks.

  It was too early for me to tell if I would be good at my new job, but I knew one thing—I looked forward to finding out.

  I had officially thrown in the towel on thinking I could get Jimmy to go away.

  It didn’t matter if I was grumpy or annoyingly cheerful. Whether I was slinging insults his way or drunkenly throwing myself at him.

  He seemed to enjoy all of it.

  I was completely baffled.

  And if I was being honest, I enjoyed his company, too.

  It also didn’t hurt that his protective side was sexy as hell. He was totally hovering and I couldn’t even argue with him about it because, as much as I hated relying on someone, I felt safe when Jimmy was around.

  It’d been a long time since I let someone be there for me. And right now, I needed him.

  This morning, waking up to the sound of Jimmy’s strong heartbeat had been one of the best things ever until I realized I’d attached myself to him like a leech. That was embarrassing.

  He was the only person I’d ever done that to. I’d shared a bed with my sister countless times throughout our lives and never attacked her like that. Usually I liked my own space when I slept, but for some reason I was drawn to Jimmy.

  All day long, he’d been sending concerned text messages, and from the last one I knew he should be here any minute.

  I rarely put makeup on. Most days I didn’t even brush my hair.

  Now I found myself running back and forth from my bedroom to the bathroom, trying to find all the girly supplies I hadn’t unpacked yet.

  “Aha!” I let out a triumphant shout when I found my makeup bag in the cardboard box labeled ‘not important’.

  Dumping all the contents onto the granite countertop, I searched for my foundation, blush, and eyeliner. I probably didn’t have time to do the works, but something was better than nothing.

  I glanced at myself in the mirror over the sink and noticed a pink tinge on my cheeks. I wasn’t sure if it was from excitement or the sun exposure while painting, but it looked good.

  I threw the blush back into the bag and got the bronzer instead. After I was satisfied with the half-assed job I did on my face, I ran my fingers through my hair. I debated whether I should change my clothes. In the end, I decided to stick with the leggings because Jimmy seemed to like them.

  After trading my oversized T-shirt for a fitted black tank top, I was ready for our date.

  Was it a date? According to the conversation we had last night, it was.

  If Jimmy really wanted to call it dating, then that was fine with me. The chance of me being interested in another guy was less than zero, so it wasn’t difficult to agree to those temporary terms. Surprisingly, I felt immense relief at knowing he wouldn’t be with anyone else either.

  As I sat in my comfy chair and waited, the sound of the ticking clock on the mantel only fueled my anxiousness. My face felt hot, and my hands were cold and clammy.

  When that soft knock came at my door, a foreign kind of giddiness buzzed through my body.

  I peered through the peep hole. Jimmy was there, looking every bit the part of hot mechanic. His unzipped coveralls hung around his waist, exposing the black T-shirt he wore underneath. I admired the way it hugged his arms and chest just right.

  I may have been intimidated by his tattoos at first, but that wasn’t the case at all now. He owned those tattoos. He was meant to have that ink on his body.

  “Mack? You okay?” Jimmy’s muffled voice came through the door, and I realized I’d just been standing there ogling him through the peep hole.

  Like a complete psycho.

  Awesome.

  After letting him in, I turned toward the living room and he followed.

  “I came straight here,” he said, gesturing to the grease staining his clothes. “Sorry I’m so dirty. Just wanted to check on you first.”

  There was a smudge on his forehead. Before I could second-guess what I was doing, I reached up and wiped it away with my thumb until the mark was gone. He smelled like sweat, motor oil, and sunshine. He smelled like a man. A hard-working man. And it was wonderful.

  Grabbing a hold of his forearm, I tugged him down onto the couch with me.

  He sat stiffly, holding his arms away from the leather. “I’m gonna get your couch dirty.”

  “I don’t care,” I responded, not at all bothered by the mess.

  “If you say so.” Shrugging, he relaxed into the cushions.

  Curious about how his first day went, I asked him what he’d done and how he liked it.

  Jimmy’s face lit up, and his hands slashed animatedly through the air as he told me about different types of oil and other things he learned on the job. I never knew someone could be so excited about car parts, but seeing him so fired up made those butterflies come alive again, ricocheting inside my abdomen.

  “What?” he stopped mid-sentence when he was saying something about tires. “Why are you smiling like that?”

  Bringing my hand up to my face, I realized I was grinning like a loon for no reason.

  “I just—” I tried to think of how to explain it. “—you’re so happy. I guess it’s just contagious?”

  Reflecting my smile, Jimmy brought his forehead to mine and brushed my cheek with his thumb.

  “So, what are we going to do today?” I asked as sudden nervousness hit me. I had no idea how to do this. With no wall of liquid courage to hide behind, the brave, horny girl from last night was gone.

  Would we jump right into ripping each other’s clothes off? Would there be foreplay? Most importantly, would I freak out or would I be able to keep my shit together?

  My heart sped up at the thought of feeling all his tattoos. And the nipple piercings. And his lips on mine.

  Equal parts anxiety and desire battled it out as I waited for his answer.

  “Hold hands,” Jimmy replied.

  Narrowing my eyes, I tried to figure out if he was serious. “You’re joking, right?”

  “Nope.” He leaned back. �
�We’re gonna sit on this couch, watch a movie, and hold hands.”

  “That’s it?” I asked, relief and disappointment simultaneously flooding my system.

  Nodding, he held out his hand and I gave him mine. Linking our fingers, he pressed our palms together and my heart did that fluttery thing again.

  I looked down at our hands, admiring the contrast. His were darker, rougher. I could tell he’d attempted to wash off the grease from the shop, but some remained in the crevices of his skin and under his fingernails. Something about it was incredibly sexy.

  He rubbed his thumb over my knuckles. “You didn’t get to do this stuff, did you?”

  “What stuff?”

  “The innocent stuff,” he said. “The things you do when you’re not thinking about sex, when you’re just happy to be on a date sitting next to someone you like.”

  I swallowed hard. The truth of his statement hit home, because that was a necessary step I’d been forced to skip.

  Giving him a small smile, I nodded. “That sounds really nice, actually.”

  “But first, I need a shower.” He leaned in close and pressed a kiss to my scar, just like he did last night.

  Before I could read too much into it, he was walking toward the door, telling me to lock it behind him.

  Jimmy had only been gone for ten minutes when he came back wearing black, low-sitting sweatpants and a plain gray T-shirt. The dark, damp hair on his head was in disarray, like he’d simply scrubbed a towel over it.

  Sticking to his word, he held my hand all evening. It wasn’t boring, though.

  I had no idea there were so many different types of hand-holding.

  Sometimes he brushed the inside of my wrist with his thumb. Other times he idly played with my fingers while we watched the movies he borrowed from Beverly. He earned big brownie points when he massaged my palms, applying the right amount of pressure over every inch of my hands and fingers, soothing the stiffness from hours of playing guitar.

  And when my palm ended up sweaty from nerves and constant contact, I shyly wiped it off on my leggings while muttering an apology. Jimmy just laughed before slinging an arm around me. Then he twirled my hair around his finger for a good twenty minutes.

  He managed to touch me at all times, while keeping it completely innocent.

  It was thrilling and new.

  By the time we made it into my bed—for sleep only—my body was a jittery mess of hormones. The place between my thighs was wet, hot, and achy.

  I’d never been more turned on in my life.

  Who knew hand-holding could be such amazing foreplay?

  “This color is one hundred times better,” I said to Jimmy as I covered the bright green bricks with the new paint.

  “You pretty much picked it out,” he told me with a grin. I gave him a questioning look and he laughed. “I went to Home Depot and asked for sage green. I’d never heard of it before you said it that day. Seems like it was a good choice, though.”

  I was surprised that he even remembered such an insignificant conversation. “It’s a popular color because it’s subtle. I think the mayor will approve.”

  He moved by me to roll paint on the other side of the window I was trimming around. “As long as it doesn’t rain, we should be able to finish this weekend.”

  “Oh, that reminds me. I’m staying at my parents’ house tonight, so you’re off babysitting duty,” I joked. “But I’ll be back tomorrow morning.”

  Jimmy stopped rolling and frowned. “You’re not doing that because you think you’re a burden or anything, right? Because I don’t mind. Your bed is a hell of a lot more comfortable than mine anyway.”

  I shook my head. “I’ve been planning it for a while. I feel kind of guilty because I don’t visit them as much as I should. Plus, I miss my sister.”

  A half-smile appeared on Jimmy’s face. “I didn’t realize you have a sister.”

  Pulling up the most recent picture on my phone, I turned it toward him. Krista and I were on the couch at my parents’ house, our heads pressed together as we took a selfie.

  “She’s fifteen, and it’s like she completely skipped the awkward teenager phase and went straight to being cute as a button.”

  “I love it when you smile,” Jimmy said, peering closer. “I thought you two would look more alike. But then again, my brother and I couldn’t be more different.”

  “We have some similarities, but her hair is lighter and her eyes are darker. She’ll probably end up being taller than me, too. How old is your brother?” I asked, slipping my phone into the back pocket of my shorts.

  “Ezra’s a year younger,” he said before telling me about his brother’s limp, how shy he was, and how he would be spending the summer at a physical therapy camp. There was so much affection in his voice when he added, “He’s the coolest kid I know.”

  “Cooler than you?”

  He grinned. “Way cooler.”

  Most of the morning had been spent with Jimmy and me working silently side by side. Only this time, the lack of conversation wasn’t intentional on my part. It was just comfortable.

  Every now and then, we exchanged smiles and flirty glances.

  Sometimes I caught him staring at my mouth, and the need to feel his lips on mine was so intense that it became a physical ache. My nipples tightened to the point of painful. I throbbed between my thighs. I licked my lips, which felt hot and tingly.

  Jimmy hadn’t shaved for a couple days, and I yearned to feel the dark scruff scrape against my cheeks, my chin, my neck. But just when I thought he was finally going to give in, he’d turn away and go back to painting.

  It frustrated the hell out of me.

  In less than a week, I’d gone from recoiling at the idea of being intimate with someone to feeling like I had to physically restrain myself from launching my body at him like a spider monkey.

  Of course, he was shirtless again. Jimmy seemed to be in a permanent state of half-dressed 90% of the time, which only added fuel to the fire.

  Being a temptress wasn’t my expertise. I knew nothing about the art of seduction.

  But all I wanted was a damn kiss.

  So far, my efforts to get him to make a move weren’t successful. I’d purposely left my paint bucket next to his so I would have a reason to get close to him. A few times I let my arm touch him in some way—his stomach or his chest—but he seemed to remain unaffected.

  By coincidence, Jimmy ended up bending down to refill my bucket at the same time I went to dip the brush. This resulted in me smearing paint down the side of his face.

  I giggled, and he shot me an amused look. Then I decided to take full advantage of the situation.

  “Here,” I said, whipping my T-shirt over my head, leaving me in a black sports bra.

  Pressing my body against his, I leaned up to wipe off the mess. Jimmy’s hands fell to my waist. His fingers clenched against my bare skin, like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to pull me closer or push me away.

  “Mack,” he rasped.

  “Hmm?” I said innocently while dabbing at his jaw.

  “Are you pushing me on purpose?” His voice was low and husky.

  Our eyes locked. All I could do was nod as I wiped the last of the paint away.

  The sound he responded with was tortured as he briefly leaned his forehead against mine. “I’m trying to go slow with you, but you’re making it really difficult.”

  “Turtles are slow. Snails are even slower. Then there’s you,” I teased.

  His jaw tensed. “What do you want?”

  “A kiss would be nice,” I answered honestly.

  Jimmy walked me backwards, until I was flush against the side of the house. I was fully aware that the paint was still wet and I probably had brick print all over my backside.

  Strong arms caged me in as he placed a hand on each side of my head. I waited to feel that old familiar panic build inside of me, but it never came. Instead of feeling trapped, I felt safe.

  “Jimmy… Do
you want to kiss me?”

  Licking his lips, he didn’t take his eyes off my mouth as he nodded.

  “They why don’t you just do it already?” I challenged, my voice barely above a whisper.

  He leaned in closer until our faces were just inches apart.

  “Because I feel like if I do this, things will change,” he replied. “And I’m not sure you’re ready for it.”

  I shook my head, confused. “What will change?”

  “Everything,” he breathed out before closing the distance.

  Soft lips met mine and I gasped at the gentleness of it. I thought Jimmy’s kiss would be rough and demanding, but it was slow. Deliberate. Unbelievably sensual.

  My eyes closed as our mouths moved together.

  That plump, pouty bottom lip. It did things to me. I wanted to suck it into my mouth. I wanted to bite it, then lick the sting away.

  But just as quickly as the kiss started, it ended.

  A sexy sound rumbled in Jimmy’s throat as he reluctantly pulled back. Before he could get too far, I wrapped my hand around the back of his neck.

  “More. Please,” I pleaded against his mouth. “Please don’t stop yet.”

  “Damn.” Jimmy gave me what I wanted as he dove back in.

  He cupped my face, the large span of his hand covering my cheek and the side of my neck. I could feel the sticky paint transfer from his fingers to my skin.

  The gentle kisses continued, but I wanted more. Deeper. Harder.

  Hesitantly, my tongue swept out, tasting the seam of his lips. Jimmy must have taken that as a green light, because his mouth opened wider and he let me in. Our tongues melded together in perfect rhythm, and his stubble rubbed against my skin.

  Wanting to get closer I grabbed at his chest, but there was no shirt to hold on to. His skin was warm and smooth under my fingertips. Curiously, I ran my thumbs over the barbells through his nipples.

  The restraint he was holding on to finally snapped.

  Groaning, he wrapped an arm around my waist and pushed us away from the house. His other hand landed on my ass as he picked me up. My legs automatically wrapped around him, and I whimpered when he sucked on my tongue.

  He slammed us up against the house again, his arm taking the brunt of the impact.