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The woodsy scent of cedar with a touch of cinnamon filled the black Chevy truck as I climbed inside and sat down. I enjoyed the warmth of the aroma until I snapped out of it and focused on the fact that I had agreed to get into a stranger’s vehicle. But it wasn’t like I was having any luck with another option. I couldn’t study the people and approach anyone for help because strange men kept talking to me. This was the only man who wasn’t pushy and frightening. He’d helped me twice, and, well, he was right. He didn’t need to resort to forcing a woman to do anything with him or for him. I was just an exception, and he didn’t seem very interested in my appearance. He’d seemed more concerned than anything.
I heard my suitcase being placed in the truck bed, and then I glanced over at the driver’s door just as he opened it and held out the pizza box to me. I reached out and took it, and then he climbed inside with the plastic bag that contained our waters and my random cashews and pretzels I hadn’t really wanted. I’d just grabbed them to appear like I was shopping and not scoping out the place.
He took the waters out and placed them in the cupholders in the center console, then lifted his ridiculously blue eyes to meet mine. “If we’re gonna share a pizza, we should at least know each other’s name,” he told me, then held out his hand. “King Salazar.”
“Your…your name is King?”
I didn’t think he was telling me he was a king, but I’d never heard of someone being named King before. Oddly enough, he held that name well. I wasn’t going to tell him that though. Trusting a pretty face was something I would never do again. I hadn’t gotten in this truck because he was hot. I’d gotten in it because he had proven to be helpful and kind. Nothing more. And, yes, because most women in there were checking him out, yet he hadn’t seemed to notice.
He shrugged with a nonthreatening, amused smile on his face. “Yeah. My dad lost a bet.”
How interesting.
I slid my hand into his. “Rumor,” I said, then paused before saying my last name. I couldn’t trust anyone with that information. “Beauregard,” I finished, using the surname of my favorite foster family.
He gave me that killer smile that I was sure had women falling at his feet regularly. “It’s nice to meet you, Rumor. Now, why don’t we open that box and have a piece of greasy service-station pizza?”
The way he could so easily put someone at ease was a talent. One I needed to be careful with. Letting my guard down wasn’t an option. Even if this was a nice guy, like I had just about decided he was, I was on the run. No one could be trusted with any of my truths. I’d given him the name I had before I was married. Hill hadn’t felt that Rumor was appropriate. He said it was tacky and sounded backwoods. So, I agreed to have my name legally changed to Carmella. The name he had chosen for me. A name I came to hate so very soon after I said I do.
I never wanted to be called Carmella again.
Opening the box, I took out a slice and handed it to him.
He pointed at the glove compartment. “Napkins are in there. Grab us a few.”
I did so, and he took one to hold on to the pizza while he ate it. I did the same. Never had grease tasted so good. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten anything like this. Hill had made me keep count of my calories, and I had to step on a scale every morning so that he could check my weight. I learned the hard way that sneaking around and eating food he didn’t approve of would cause the scale to go up, and if it went up more than two pounds, I would pay for it. Painfully so.
I caught myself making a sound that was awfully close to a moan, and my cheeks flushed. Thankfully, he didn’t say anything about it, and I kept my eyes focused straight ahead. If he was laughing at me, I didn’t want to know.
“The closest bus station to here is about thirty minutes south,” he said. “But I’m going north, and there is one about an hour in my direction that I can take you to instead, if that’s okay.”
I wanted to go south, but I also didn’t want to make him go out of his way after he already helped me several times.
“North is fine,” I replied.
“Great. I’ll get home in time for my Maeme’s Tuesday night chicken and dumplings and banana pudding.”
The excitement in his voice made me smile. If he didn’t have such a deep drawl, he’d have seemed much younger.
“Is that your grandmother?” I asked.
“Yep. My dad’s momma. She raised me. Dad wasn’t around much due to his work, and my own momma walked out on us in the middle of the night when I was two. I don’t have much memory of her.”
I had no memory of my mother or father for that matter, but somehow, his story felt worse. His momma had known him. Held him. Taken care of him. Then left after two years. What kind of person did that?
“That’s awful,” I said before I could stop myself.
He shrugged. “Not really. My Maeme is great. She’s sweet as sugar, yet she is the only woman alive who can control my dad, and did I mention her banana pudding? Best thing you’ve ever put in your mouth. I figure there’s no woman alive who outshines her. I was a lucky kid.”
I sat back in the leather seat, finding myself relaxed for the first time since…I didn’t know when. Hearing King talk about his grandmother made me forget my own troubles.
“She sounds really special,” I agreed, then took another bite of my pizza.
King reached over and grabbed another slice from the box. “That she most definitely is.”
I finished off my slice and wiped my hands on a napkin before opening my water to take a drink. King glanced over at me then, and I lifted my eyes to his involuntarily. I could see the question in his eyes before he even asked.
“Would you get all defensive and skittish on me again if I asked what happened to your face? Because if so, then forget it and pretend I asked if you’d ever ridden a horse.”
