Page 320 of Roughneck


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I pressed the gas a little and then turned the keys again. Another sputter. And still nothing.

“Goddammit!” I slammed the wheel, glancing at the clock on the dash. I was already late for dropping off the deposits I’d promised would be in by four o’clock today. Shit.

“Pop the hood,” Jeremiah said, sounding annoyingly calm.

It showed my level of desperation that I actually did what he said. Through my front windshield I saw him walk around the car and lift the hood, propping it open. I pushed out of the car and walked around to join him under the sweltering sun as he looked down at my engine.

It looked like… well, an engine. Nothing was smoking or giving away what was wrong. I looked at Jeremiah and he had a frown on his face. “Well?” I asked.

He shrugged. “No clue.”

I huffed out a laugh at that. So Mr. Great and Mighty didn’t know everything. But my mirth was quickly covered by panic.

“Shit. I have to get these deposits put down today. It’s the last day to drop off Benny’s check or else no booze.”

Beside me, Jeremiah huffed out a noise of frustration. “Fine. I’ll take you.”

I looked up at him in surprise. “You will?”

Jeremiah pulled out the rod keeping the hood up and let it slam closed. “This piece of junk isn’t taking you anywhere. And I have a feeling this wedding is gonna need all the social lubrication it can get.”

Did he really just say lubrication? Shit, get your brain out of the gutter, Ruth. I shook it off and nodded. “Okay, sure. If it’s not too far out of your way.”

He just waved a hand, as gracious about it as I suppose he was able, because he still looked as disgruntled as a goat. “You should call for a tow. Don’t expect me chauffeuring you around town to become a regular occurrence. Only reason I’m out here instead of Charlie or Reece is cause I need some materials in town and they thought I could hit two birds with one stone.”

“What are they doin’?”

Jeremiah grimaced as I locked up my truck and followed him back to his. I realized as he came around to my side to unlock my door. “They were eating lunch and planning some sort of wedding crap. Vows or some shit. I was about to head out anyway when Charlie got your text.”

That made sense. God knew he’d never volunteer to come out and help me all on his own.

“All right, where to first?” he asked once I’d climbed up inside his truck. I looked over at him and would swear this truck cab had looked way bigger from the outside than inside. He was peering out the front windshield. “Clouds are comin’ in so we better hurry.”

I nodded absentmindedly. But now that I was closed up in here with him, breathing the same co-mingled air—I immediately turned away from him and glared out the window, shifting in my seat.

“So…” I said to the window, trying to calm my suddenly unsteady breathing. “To Benny’s?”

“Right. The liquor.” I could feel him nod even though I wasn’t looking at him. In fact, I could feel every movement of his big body on the long seat we shared as he shifted the truck into gear—it was a manual, naturally.

The truck engine was loud as we got going, but it was still too quiet in the cab of the truck. I could hear Jeremiah breathing. I turned and reached toward the radio only for my hand to run into Jeremiah’s, who’d apparently been reaching for the radio at the same time.

I yanked back and he glanced over at me, surprised.

“Oh,” I said, then felt stupid. Especially when he didn’t pause for a second in turning on the radio to some old country station. And by old, I mean old. Hank Williams Sr. old.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

“What?” Jeremiah glanced my way.

I just shook my head and reached for the dial. His big hand blocked me, though. “No way. My ride, my tunes.”

“Oh my God, you really are an old man in a young body.”

“You checking out my body?”

My mouth dropped open and furiously, I felt my cheeks heat. “You wish. I’m not that hard up.” I crossed my arms over my chest. But then, frustrated, I reached over and snapped the dial of the radio off. Better silence than having my ears assaulted like that.

Wisely, he didn’t say anything else. But minutes later I was second-guessing turning off the music. Maybe ancient old white man hollering about his dogs was better than being painfully aware of every movement and twitch of the man on the seat beside me. Especially since on these backwoods roads, he was constantly reaching for the long shifter between us, nearly grazing my thigh each time. My bare thigh.

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