Page 8 of Big Hefty Trucker


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Already, the feelings he’s stirred in me are beginning to affect my day-to-day life. It’s been almost impossible to focus on my business classes because I’m busy thinking about him and his mouth and his hands and his intense, protective gaze. More than that, I think our encounter has managed to change how I write for the better.

Before he stepped in and saved me last week, I’d been struggling with a love scene in my novel. As soon as I looked at it a day or two later, the words just started flowing. My characters finally started to feel real, and the action on the page was hot, if I do say so myself. The chemistry finally makes sense, and I don’t feel like I’m being held back by writer’s block. The story just feels right.

If only the rest of my life could feel like that.

Because my boss hasn’t gotten back to me with an updated schedule, I’ve had the past week off of work. It’s irritating because I want the hours, but at the same time, I’m okay with some space from the store. What happened was scary, and I’m not sure how I’ll react to standing behind the counter again.

So instead of stocking shelves, I’m at my parent’s house for dinner.

It’s going as well as can be expected. My dad got pulled into his home office for a call, so my mom, my sister, and I are sitting in the dining room, waiting for him to finish as we pick at our food.

As usual, the atmosphere is a little tense. My parents are very particular, and it frustrates my mom that my dad would step out to do work when both me and Camilla are around for a meal. Camilla and I make eye contact across the table as my mom sighs. Yeah, we seem to say to each other, this sucks.

Nothing seems to make either of our parents happy, least of all each other.

I can hear my dad a room or two over, talking with someone in the human resources department about an incident they had at one of the convenience stores owned by the company. Instantly, I know they’re talking about the armed altercation that happened involving me.

My blood runs cold. On the one hand, I’m surprised that they’re still talking about it after a week. On the other, I can’t help wondering if my name has come up. I was the employee involved in the incident, after all.

When I first got the job, I figured my dad would never find out that his own daughter was working as a clerk at one of his stores. There are so many locations and so many employees that I figured I’d blend right in and get lost in the sea of names. It’s not like “Katherine Greene” is a common name, but on a list, it’s not going to stick out. Now I’m not so sure. I don’t know what he’ll do if he finds out I’m working after being explicitly forbidden from doing so. I’m already pursuing a degree I have no interest in to be able to inherit a company I don’t care about. They’ve already taken away my dreams, what more could my parents possibly take from me?

Camilla gives me a strange look, as if she can feel my rising tension. She’s always been good at reading people, and she’s especially good at reading me because, well, we’re twins. She’s known me my entire life.

She’d be so much better at running a business than I would be, and that’s one of the reasons why. She can read people and see to the heart of the issue and then she always has ideas to fix it. It’s awful that our parents are so hung up on me taking over the company when I know for a fact that she wants to do it more than anything. Do they even realize she’s taking a lot of the same classes as I am?

When I glance at my mother, who’s staring off into space and taking a sip of her wine as she waits for my father to come back, I decide that no, they don’t. They’ve never cared about anything but appearances, let alone what my sister and I want.

The evening ends up remaining tense, even after my father returns from his phone call. Cam and I spend most of our time giving each other looks over the table as we struggle through small talk about our classes and whatever else we might be doing. It’s boring, but there’s not much either of us can do to escape until finally I’m the one that cracks.

I give each of my parents a hug and tell them I have to get back to my apartment so I can finish studying for a quiz I have tomorrow, which is a total lie, but it gets me out the door. Cam says something similar, and suddenly, we’re both walking to our cars so that I can go to my apartment and she can make her way back to the dorms. She’s a Resident Advisor because it looks good on a resume, and she’s supposed to be on call as soon as she gets back.

“You seem different,” she says, not bothering to beat around the bush. I love that she’s so direct with me. It keeps me from trying to hide things I don’t need to hide. “Good different, but different.”

I bite my lip as I unlock my car. “Something happened,” I tell her. “I might have met someone.”

Her eyes widen. “Seriously? Where?”

“Work,” I shrug. “It’s been a week, and I can’t get him out of my head.”

Her smile turns sly. My heart flutters as she starts to tease me. “Always a romantic. Have you written about him yet?”

“N-no,” I stammer as I feel my cheeks flare with heat. “Not yet.”

“Well, let me know when you’re ready for me to meet him,” she says as she clambers into her car. “But if you end up writing about him instead, you know I’m always happy to read about one of your hunky romantic leads.”

“Thanks, Cam,” I tell her. “I’ll let you know how it goes, if it goes at all.”

“You’re a catch, sis. I’m sure he feels the same way.”

Her words are still with me as I make my way home. It’s distracting, to be honest. I haven’t seen Finn in a week but he’s all I can think about. We hadn’t exchanged phone numbers or anything, but it had felt like our connection was real. And yet, it’s not like either of us took the steps to keep in touch …

Was any of it as real as it felt?

Because I’m lost in my thoughts, I miss one of my turns, and suddenly it feels like I’m going to work. This is one of the routes I take to get to the convenience store, so of course it feels like it, but it feels surreal. I haven’t driven this way in a week, but the turns are automatic.

Screw it. Stopping by the store, even if I’m supposed to be taking it easy, won’t hurt anyone. It’ll give me the chance to see how I feel about being in the store after being threatened at gun point. Testing myself and my stress level is good preparation for whenever I start working again.

And … some part of me is desperately hoping that I’ll run into my handsome rescuer while I’m there.

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