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But I was feeling good. Dumb questions were not going to get me down.
“I do. Thank you.”
“You hunkerin’ down?” he asked. “Me, I’ve got a cot in the supply room and a couple wool blankets. Figure it’s better here than at my house. See, here at the shop we’ve got a backup generator. If you’d like, I could share?”
A squicky feeling made itself known in my stomach, but I pushed it down, telling myself this man meant well.
Right?
I shook my head, giving him a polite smile. Had he been making a pass at me? I couldn’t even tell anymore, it had been so long since I’d even laid eyes on a man I’d found interesting. Call it the side effects of drifting through life. My job required me to work just enough hours that I was often too tired to go out and find someone, but not enough to really have any extra funds to do anything fun. Wasn’t that always the way?
“Thanks, but I’m good,” I said, taking out cash. Not that I couldn’t pay with a card, but something about the truck stop, along with the motel, left me not wanting to give out my name.
“You sure?” he said, doubling down. “Pretty girl like you? Promise, I’ll keep you warm and comfy the whole time.”
Don’t be rude, don’t be rude.
“I bet you would do that”—I looked at his name tag—“Chet. But my husband, just across the way, would be awfully upset if I accepted your offer.”
Husband. The magic word. It had gotten me out of scrapes many times. Just mutter the word and men back off so fast you’d think their pants were on freaking fire.
And, it worked again.
Chet’s hand flew up in the surrender position. “Oh geez, ma’am. I didn’t mean to… um, well, I shouldn’t have…”
Pleased with my victory, I smiled. “It’s okay, Chet. Don’t worry about it.”
I bit my tongue to avoid laughing at the terror in his eyes, and got out of there.
* * *
