Eighty-eights, Baby

By June Kramin

When a terrible storm takes Quentin on a detour, he finds something far more dangerous than tornados and hail; he finds Jessica, who threatens to leave a gaping hole in his heart.

Jessica is running from more than a storm. A painful secret from her past has left physical as well as emotional scars. Although she finds herself falling for Quentin, she flees the safety of his company, convinced he’d be better off without her.

Unfortunately, trouble finds her before Quentin does. Freeing Jessica from a would-be kidnapper is just the beginning. Convincing her to forget her past proves to be an even tougher challenge as he persuades her to return with him to his Texas home.

• Language: English
• Publisher: June Kramin
• Release date: Nov 16, 2020
• ISBN: 9781005433758

June Kramin

Wife, Mother, Writer, Lunatic. Not necessarily in that order.June, who prefers to go by Bug, was born in Philadelphia but moved to Maui, Hawaii when she was four. She met her “Prince Charming” on Kauai and is currently living “Happily Ever After” on a hobby farm in a small town in Southern Minnesota.Her son and daughter are her greatest accomplishments. She takes pride in embarrassing them every chance she gets.Being hopelessly addicted to 80′s music is her super power.

Book preview

With a flash of lightning, Quentin spotted the young woman on the side of the road. Even though it was pouring rain, she casually walked just off the paved asphalt through the tall grass. She wasn’t facing oncoming traffic or trying to signal in any way. It was beyond odd for her to be out in this weather, let alone this far away from any nearby town. The fact it was almost one in the morning made this completely unexplainable. After pulling his tractor-trailer over, well ahead so he wouldn’t scare her, Quentin climbed down.

Thinking it would be less intimidating, he waited at the back of his truck for her to approach him. His clothes were getting drenched, but his face was kept dry by his woven cowboy hat. The woman continued to walk his way with her head down, and didn’t look up until she was within a few feet of him.

Hey, is all she said when her unsure gaze finally met his.

I’m not gonna hurt you.

I don’t really see as I care one way or another right now.

Her response confused him. Can I offer you a lift somewhere?

Sure. She shrugged.

Carefully taking her by the arm, feeling like she would collapse if he didn’t, Quentin walked her to the passenger side of his sleeper-cab. He opened the door, helped her up, and closed it behind her. Once he was settled in behind the steering wheel, he faced her. She was rubbing her arms, trying to warm up, as she shivered. After reaching back for a towel, he offered it to her.

Here. You should try to dry off.

Accepting it with a soft, Thanks, she wrapped it around herself, then sneezed twice.

Bless you. Quentin turned up the heat. That’s not gonna do. You’re soaked to the skin. Again he reached back, this time retrieving a large, long-sleeve flannel shirt. Climb in back and change into this. You need to get dry before you catch your death of cold.

Her raised eyebrows and wide eyes proved she wasn’t comfortable with the idea.

I’m not gonna do no peekin’, he said, pointing to the windshield. There’s no rearview mirror in a rig. I couldn’t cheat if I wanted to. You need to get dry.

She still didn’t move.

Do you want me to wait outside? He grabbed his door handle, making the offer clear.

No, she said as she firmly grasped his arm. Don’t. Thanks. I’ll change.

After climbing into the back of the cab, careful to keep herself hidden with the towel, Jessie stripped down to bare skin, then put on the flannel shirt. She gave the sleeves a few rolls so her hands wouldn’t be covered.

Never having been in a tractor-trailer before, let alone one with a sleeper-cab, she studied it, never imagining they could be so spacious inside. He must do a lot of overnight trips, because it was set up nicely with a small bed and storage for spare clothes and food. The shirt she put on hung halfway to her knees, but she’d feel better with something covering her bottom.

I don’t suppose you have a clean pair of boxers I can borrow?

Never much cared for underwear.

She couldn’t see his face, but she swore she could sense a grin.

Can I use this blanket? she asked as she held up a small, thin fleece blanket she’d removed from the base of the bed. She had one like it in her car’s snow emergency kit.

By all means. Please, help yourself.

After climbing back into the front seat, she draped it over her legs. Once she was settled in and certain nothing vital was exposed, she wrapped her wet hair in the towel with a twist, and tucked it in.

She caught him watching her and uttered an awkward, Thanks.

Pleasure’s all mine, ma’am. He smiled, tipped his hat, then put the truck in gear and pulled back onto the highway.

Did your car break down? he asked, once they were on their way. I didn’t see one on this route.

She focused intently out the window, rather than face him, even though there was nothing but darkness, and shook her head.

Where’re you going?

Doesn’t matter much anymore, was her response, accompanied by another shrug.

Do you even care where my load is going? Where I’m headed?

She finally turned to him. Nope.

He pursed his lips, as if he was forming another question. He finally extended his hand. Name’s Quentin.

She accepted it. Thanks again for the ride.

Would it be rude to ask what you’re doing out in the middle of nowhere this time of night, in a storm like this, and alone?

A little, I suppose. I thought you truckers were ‘no strings attached’ kinda guys. You know, ‘Ask me no questions, I’ll tell you no lies.’

Just trying to make conversation. What you’re doing is dangerous. Not every trucker will give you the shirt off his back, literally. Besides that, there are tornadoes out there tonight. He offered her a bag of beef jerky that was on the seat. You hungry?

No, thank you. Her eyes closed.

The woman slowly fell toward him. Quentin kept his eyes between the road and her, trying to figure out what was going on. She was now lying on the seat with her head almost touching his leg. When he heard gentle, steady breaths, he knew she had fallen asleep. He didn’t know how long she was walking before he’d picked her up or what her story was. Whatever happened, she was obviously exhausted from it. He checked his gas gauge, he had a couple hours until he had to fill up again. She had time to rest. He pulled the blanket up, covering her more, then adjusted the vents so the heat was blowing her way.

As they passed streetlights, he stole glances of her. She couldn’t be more than twenty. Her cute as a button nose brought him a smile with each peek of her profile. He hadn’t seen her smile yet, but he was sure it was wonderful. The cab was too dark for him to see the color of her eyes when they’d been open. His guess was a buck ten for weight, and she had one of the cutest asses he’d come across in a long time. The thought of taking a bite out of it as he helped her in the truck was stifled quickly. He reprimanded himself for paying so much attention to her details. She’d probably be gone at the first stop he made.

Other than the sound of the rain and his windshield wipers, it suddenly seemed too quiet. He realized he’d turned the radio down when he hopped out of the cab. Reaching over, he turned it up just loud enough to hear it, not so loud it would disturb her sleeping, whatever her name was. Garth Brooks was singing about his friends in low places. Quentin loved his country music.

Quentin had picked her up on Highway 71, just outside of Willmar, Minnesota. His load was picked up in South Dakota and he was on his way to Chicago. Bad storms and detours brought him on this route. He wasn’t so thrilled for the added miles at first, but he was glad for the change in plans now. The Texas-born trucker was big on all things happen for a reason and was excited to see what would unfold. He never had companionship when he drove and was enjoying her company, even as she slept.

The colorful autumn day had started off sunny and beautiful, but when the skies grew dark, he switched to the weather channel. Tornadoes had been spotted through a lot of Kandiyohi County, so he’d kept a sharp eye out. A mild hailstorm had briefly assaulted his rig, but he’d kept on his current route. Enough time had been lost, he didn’t want to pull over and wait it out.

Quentin was twenty-four. He’d come out of the womb wearing a Stetson cowboy hat and Tony Lama boots. He’d been a trucker since before he even had his license. It started when he was a child with his battery-operated jeep, running things to the neighbors, like his mother’s sugar cookies. He slowly moved up to loads across town at the age of fifteen, helping his father on weekends in their old, rusty Ford F-250. From there it was small trailer loads, and eventually a rig of his own. His dad died from heart failure two years ago and his mother had moved to Florida to be closer to his sister and the grandbabies. She still had her own room set up in his house and visited him often.

Two hundred acres, the house, and barn were all that was left of their farm, but it was all his. He kept a couple horses out of cowboy necessity.

The door clicking open woke her with a start. Her eyes sprang open, and she gave herself a good once-over. Relieved to be covered with a blanket and wearing a flannel shirt, she held onto the buttons with one hand and sat up. It took her a second to piece together the night before. A quick glance out the window revealed a clear, blue sky. The sun was just starting to come up over the truck stop.

Sorry if I frightened you. I stalled as much as I could to let you sleep. I bought you a cup of coffee, Quentin said, as he offered her a cup with a warm smile. I wasn’t sure how you like it, so I brought a little of everything. He climbed into the cab and placed a cup next to her filled with flavored creamers, half and half, sugar, and two types of artificial sweeteners.

Thanks. She glanced at him shyly, still unsure what to make of him. That was thoughtful. I drink it just black though. No one could be this nice.

I’ll make a mental note. Your clothes are still drenched so I got you these, too. He tossed a plastic bag at her. "A T-shirt and some shorts like sweats. Says Wisconsin on the ass, but they looked like they’d fit. Sorry, they don’t sell no skivvies. You’ll have to go commando." He winked, causing her stomach to flip-flop.

Wisconsin? Is that where we are?

Yes, ma’am. You want to use the restroom? Or maybe you want to leave my company?

I’d like to go farther, if that’s okay with you.

The offer is good for as long as you want. It’s been a while since I had a seat cover as nice lookin’ as you.

She wouldn’t let herself show a reaction one way or another to his comment. I would like to use the washroom, if you don’t mind waiting for me.

Go ahead. I’ll step out of the cab for a minute so you can get yourself situated. I suggest you get them britches on before you go in. He winked at her again, before he closed the door.

She climbed over the back and changed. When she crawled back over, he was just outside the driver’s door. Again her stomach flip-flopped. His southern accent and way of talking were rather sexy. How bothersome.

After trying to clean up as best as she could in the restroom, she returned to the truck. The morning air was still cool, so she put the flannel shirt back on. He wasn’t in it when she climbed back in, but she wasn’t alarmed, certain he wouldn’t leave his truck for long. Within a few minutes, the door opened, and the cab filled with a wonderful smell—breakfast.

The storm has me a little behind. I don’t have time for a sit-down breakfast. I grabbed some sandwiches to go. You prefer bacon or sausage? he asked, handing her another bag after he took out a sandwich for himself.

She dug through the wrapped sandwiches and pulled out one with a picture of bacon X’d out. Bacon is my guilty pleasure. Thanks, again.

They finished their sandwiches in silence, then he reached in the bag for a second. He passed her the bag. Another one?

No, thanks. One’s plenty.

Next, he pulled a bottle of orange juice out of his shirt pocket. You want some?

Coffee’s fine. Thanks, though. Do you treat all damsels in distress this well?

I’m wingin’ it. You’re my first, truth be told.

Jessica, she said after a sip of coffee.

Pardon?

My name. It’s Jessica.

Pleasure, ma’am. He smiled again, then took a bite of his sandwich.

She kept glancing at him as he ate, hoping she wouldn’t get caught. After what she’d just been through, she didn’t know how she could even notice his fantastic shoulders, perfect facial structure, and adorable Adam’s apple. His beard looked like it was going on two day’s growth, but she liked the rugged look and thought he pulled it off remarkably. Although his eyes were just a plain shade of brown, they were warm and welcoming. His dark brown hair curled slightly where his hat sat. Halfway through his sandwich, he put it in his mouth, then grabbed the steering wheel with one hand and turned the key with the other. He started the truck and pulled back onto the interstate. Jessica thought if she tried to pull that off, she’d end up with a lapful of sandwich. She chalked it up to on the job necessity and experience.

Chapter Two

"Do you always drive through the night?" Jessica asked once they were on the way.

Not usually. This load has me on a time crunch. The storm wasn’t helping any.

I don’t know how you can stay awake all night.

I’ll get enough sleep when I’m dead. He glanced over at her with a grin, apparently looking for a laugh.

She gave him no reaction at all.

Heard that one before, huh?

I live in Minnesota, not a deserted island.

Careful there. You’re opening up and offerin’ some information.

She refrained from giving him stink eye and continued to sip her coffee.

Tough crowd. Okay, well, you know I’m a trucker. What do you do?

Again, she was quiet.

After a moment, Quentin said, I’m a model, in a high-pitched voice. You should see my—

You just hush!

He laughed. Just havin’ a little fun. It’s hard having a one-way conversation. You sure have a burr up your butt about somethin’.

It’s not a burr. There was anger behind her voice as she returned her attention out the passenger window and wiped away a tear.

Hey, I’m sorry if I—

I’m fine. Again she cut him off. After an uncomfortable silence she said, Newspaper.

Come again?

I work…I mean worked, for a newspaper.

Damn, girl. Didn’t your mama teach you to speak in sentences?

This time she didn’t hold back the stink eye.

He laughed at her attempt at being angry.

Quentin noticed there were red streaks in her blonde hair. Must be Irish with that short fuse. Probably a Gemini, too. This was going to be a fun trip. He stole the chance to check out her eyes. Baby blue.

Newspaper, huh? You a writer?

No. I do a little of everything else, though. I love to work with graphics and computers. Most of my job was designing simple ads. I was hoping something would open up at a printing shop close by and maybe be able to do more with graphic design.

And you aren’t hoping that anymore?

It’s all gone, she whispered and stared out the side window again.

Shit. Your town got hit by a tornado last night?

He assumed he was correct by her silence. It must have taken away her place of employment. He was wondering what else it had taken away.

They drove in silence for a few miles. Quentin decided to lay off the teasing, sensing she needed time to gather herself.

As they approached a rest area, she asked to stop. Sorry, coffee makes me have to pee. I should have warned you.

That’s all right. I could use a break myself. He pulled over in the designated parking for trucks and hopped out. He walked over to help her down, but she was already out. Raising an eyebrow at her again, he asked, You still comin’ with me?

I reckon, she said in her best southern accent.

After taking care of the pesky coffee side effects, Jessie spent some time at the sink, not caring much for the reflection in the mirror. A small sigh of relief escaped her when she found paper towels and not an air dryer. She gave her face a good washing. Jessie never was one for wearing much in the way of makeup, but she’d kill for an eyeliner pencil. Hopefully, the next restroom break timed it to a nice Interstate Plaza and not just another rest area, so she could pick one up. The money she had on her wouldn’t last long, but it would suffice for a while. She had no idea what to do from here or where to go.

Quentin was leaning on his truck when she came out. One leg was propped behind him against the bumper and his arms were folded at his chest. Everything go all right?

Yeah. You come here often? I found your name and number on the wall.

He laughed and dropped his leg down. Let’s get going, Cinderella. Your chariot awaits.

Cinderella?

You seem to have misplaced your glass slippers. He pointed down at her bare feet. Next stop we should get you something for ‘em. You’re gonna get a thorn or somethin’ one of these stops.

Thanks. I’d like to get a few things. I’d hate to get you off schedule, though.

I’m fine for time. Don’t worry about me.

You say where and when. You’re the boss.

I know a decent spot in a few hours. We’ll stop for lunch and a break and you can get what you need.

Are you sure this is your first rescue?

I reckon. He winked again.

So, let me guess, Texas?

They were on their way and heading toward Chicago, but she didn’t ask if that’s where his stop was. She meant what she had said earlier, she honestly didn’t care where he was going.

You’re a regular Sherlock Holmes there, aren’t ya? What gave me away? The hat or the accent?

Bask in my awesome powers of deductive reasoning. It’s a gift. She finally let herself loosen up and smile.

You should do that more often.

Deductive reasoning?

Nope. Smile. You have a mighty pretty one when you do.

Never being able to take a compliment, she ignored his comment. Whereabouts?

What? Oh wait, I think I’m catching on. Whereabouts in Texas? Just outside of San Antonio.

Horses?

The hat ain’t just for show. Do you ride?

Not as much as I’d like. I’ve never had one of my own. I’ve always dreamed of having a Paint someday.

Name’s Lady.

Huh?

Ain’t so easy is it? He laughed. I have a Paint mare. Her name is Lady.

Really? Do you have a picture of her?

He scrunched his face. Sorry. It’s not like they’re my kids. I don’t have pictures of them. Kinda girly, don’tcha think? Carrin’ pictures of your pets?

So, you have kids? It came out sounding like she was disappointed and she didn’t know why.

No, I don’t. I’m kinda old fashioned that way. I reckon I’d want a wife first. Can’t see that anyone would have me right now. Can’t say I’ve been lookin’, either. I’m sorta married to my rig and the road. So, why don’t you ride as much as you’d like? he asked, changing the subject back to horses.

We’ve never had anything by way of a farm to keep horses; just small houses in small towns. We’ve never even had much of a yard to speak of.

Moved a lot?

Kinda.

Quentin was learning when it was time to change the subject with her. When answers got short, she was done sharing. They had a long way to go. She’d have to open up or they’d run out of conversation. Either that or she’d take off if he pried too much and he didn’t want that to happen.

Chapter Three

"What are you hauling?"

Don’t know, don’t care, don’t ask.

How do you not know what kind of things you’re driving across the country?

I thought you’d be happy you had truckers, well me, anyway, pegged. Ask me no questions…

So, I was right. It doesn’t mean I’m not curious. Didn’t you have to load it?

The rig is mine, the trailer isn’t. I just pick it up and haul it where they tell me. It’s called hook and drop.

What if it’s something illegal?

You watch too many movies.

Actually, I don’t even have a TV.

Good for you. Nothing but crap on. I’d rather spend my nights talking to folks being real than watching people pretending they are, playing real life in those dumb reality shows.

Wow.

Wow, what?

We just agreed on something.

Don’t worry. I won’t let it go to my head.

She laughed, but quickly stopped herself. She covered her mouth with her hand and straightened back up.

Don’t do that, Jess.

Don’t do what?

Stop yourself from laughing. I don’t know what’s bothering you and I won’t pry, but laughter is a mighty powerful medicine.

Now you’re a shrink? She crossed her arms, but didn’t sound horribly upset.

Road wisdom is all. No offense.

None taken. She let out a big yawn.

If you want to climb in back and take a nap before we stop to ditch the load, feel free. No offense again, but you look like you could use some more sleep.

She was about to argue, but changed her mind. I think I will. Thanks.

As she climbed over the seat, he stole a sideways glance at her ass. He wouldn’t have company for a while now, but it was worth it.

Quentin pulled up to the truck yard a little over two hours later; Jessica was still sound asleep. He didn’t want to wake her until he had to. After climbing out of the cab, he gently pushed the door closed to block out what sound he could. He didn’t latch it shut and had left the truck running, so she’d still have the humming of the engine and the air conditioning to help keep her sleeping. He stood outside of the truck, talking to the yard foreman. As they talked, another truck had backed in beside them. When the air brakes let go, he knew Jessica had shot awake. Quentin didn’t see her, but the scream interrupted his conversation. His hat flew off as he hustled into the cab. The truck shook slightly as the trailer was being removed and she let out another scream, but not as blood curdling as the first.

He found her with her back against the wall of the cab, clutching the blanket tight to her chest.

It’s okay, Jess. He