Page 68 of Truck Me

And I like it.

I like him, and I don’t really know why. I’m drawn to him on a primal level that doesn’t make much sense.

I don’t know him all that well, and it’s not like we were close back in high school. He was the hot guy that kept to himself. I’d admired his looks from afar, but I don’t think we ever had a conversation worth noting.

We’ve interacted enough for me to know he has a good heart, but he’s not let me see his true self. It’s clear he’s holding back, and he doesn’t want anyone to see him that closely.

None of the Mutters had it easy growing up. I know Garret’s mom died right after he was born, but I don’t really know the specifics of her death. I think it was cancer. My parents have said on more than one occasion that Paul never got over her death, and that affected his ability to be a good father to his sons.

Grams did most of the raising after that. None of the women who followed amounted to anything. That was hard on all of them, I’m sure.

I squeeze my eyes closed and try to push the feelings stirring inside aside. I can’t catch feelings for this man.

I just can’t.

For one, I just experienced a bad breakup. I’m in no position to start another relationship so soon after breaking up with Brad. We were together for seven years. A few months is not enough time to move past that.

I need to give myself time to heal. I need to adjust to being home and starting a new job. Then there’s all the issues with my dad and working to build a stronger relationship with Rayne. I still haven’t dealt with the loss of my sister. I have too much that needs my attention. There’s not enough of me left to give to Garret.

Not that he’s indicated he wants more from me than sex.

And food. He’s made it quite clear he likes my cooking. That actually makes me smile. I’m happy to make him all the food he can eat.

But the sex? I’m not sure I can keep my feelings out of it if we keep doing what we did last night. Being in his arms like this gives me the wrong idea. He made it clear he wasn’t the relationship kind of guy. Just because I stayed the night and cuddled with him, doesn’t mean he’s changed his mind.

With panic building inside me, I decide it’s time for me to go. As carefully as possible, I slide out from under Garret’s warm, hard body. As soon as I’m free, a shiver runs through me. I miss his heat and touch instantly.

The sun isn’t up yet, making it harder to find all my clothes. I at least had enough sense last night to fold my clothes on a chair in the corner, but Garret tossed my bra and underwear when he took them off me.

Once I’m certain I have everything, I quietly tiptoe barefooted downstairs and into the bathroom. I close the door behind me, then I flip on the light.

I stand there, unmoving for far too long, staring at myself in the mirror.

Who am I, and what am I doing here?

I don’t do this sort of thing.

I don’t sleep with men I’m not in a relationship with, let alone a man I hardly know.

I guess I can argue that I’ve known Garret my whole life. We grew up as neighbors in the same small town and went to the same school.

He’s hardly a stranger.

I close my eyes and take in a few deep breaths. If he’s not a stranger, then why do I feel like what we’re doing is wrong?

Choosing not to dwell on my mixed-up feelings, I shake my hands out to my sides and get dressed. Then I clean up by washing my face and brushing my teeth with my finger.

This might be a first for me. I’ve never woken up from a one-night stand and snuck out in the wee hours of the morning.

But is this a one-night stand since we’ve had sex before? What qualifies as a one-night stand? Sierra would know. I make a mental note to ask her the next time we talk. If I know my best friend, she’ll know what to say to make me feel better about all of this.

Once I feel presentable, I quietly exit the bathroom, grateful that Garret’s house is relatively creek free. The door doesn’t make a sound as I open it, and in my bare feet, the floorboards are solid and silent.

I stop in his kitchen, the sun just now rising above the hills on the horizon.

I should leave, but something is keeping me rooted in place.

I turn to his refrigerator and open it. Spotting a package of bacon and a carton of eggs, my mind is made up. I’m making Garret breakfast before I leave.