Page 3 of Truck Up

My phone buzzes on the counter. My cheeks warm when I see the name Chaos pop up on the screen.

Chaos

I need to be inside you.

Oh god. I glance around the shop to make sure no one is watching. Mom is engrossed with Vicki Lynn and Darlene is focused on her arrangement.

I press my hands to my cheeks. I feel flushed and hot and like a swarm of bees is buzzing around in my belly. It’s almost nauseating.

Amelia

I’m working, sir.

Chaos

Soon you’ll be screaming my name.

Amelia

I can’t leave the shop.

Chaos

We’ll see.

I take a deep breath, trying to calm the flutter in my belly.

I close my eyes, pressing my hand to my stomach. This man … he has an effect on me that I can’t quite explain. A dangerous, intoxicating effect.

The last thing I need right now is for Mom or Vicki Lynn to pick up on the change in my state. Mom will relentlessly hound me until I tell her why my face is bright red and my stomach is queasy. Vicki Lynn will make up something about me just so she can spread rumors. The truth never matters to her.

My stomach turns over and my mouth waters like I might throw up. I swallow hard and stand a little straighter. I hope I’m not getting sick.

After a few seconds, the feeling passes and I shake it off. My nerves always overcome my body when I get messages from him.

“Honey, are you alright?” Mom asks, approaching the register.

Shit. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just moved too quickly and made myself dizzy.”

“You work too hard. This online expansion is taking its toll.”

“I’m managing.” I look up at Vicki Lynn and smile. As I open my mouth to speak, the loud rumble of a motorcycle draws everyone’s attention outside.

Excitement and anxiety wash over me.He’s here.I’ll see him, smell him, and feel the familiar pull of his presence.

He’s the only man I’ve ever truly wanted.

And the one man I’m not supposed to be with.

“What’s he doing here?” Mom scowls as Christian Mutter takes off his helmet and attaches it to the front of his bike.

He runs his fingers through his messy locks before pushing to his feet and swinging his long, muscular leg over the bike. He’s wearing my favorite faded jeans that fit snugly to his body, showcasing his tight, round ass in a way that makes my mouth water.

A frown creases his brow as he scans the street, as if he expects danger is nearby. A lingering habit he can’t seem to shake—a constant vigilance that worries me. He hasn’t had an easy life, but not everyone is out to hurt him.

He surveys the area for several beats before his gaze finally settles on the shop entrance.

I suck in a breath, my hand instinctively pressing against my chest. He’s wearing sunglasses, obscuring his eyes, but I know he’s staring directly at me through the glass. I don’t have to see his intense gaze. I can feel it all the way to my bones.