Page 7 of Truck Stop Tempest
“That’s what I thought.” The Truck Stop’s famed chef turned his back and got busy with the fryer. “Get to work, Toodaloo. Got a full house out there.”
With a sated stomach and more energy than I’d had all week, I headed to the dining room. Sundays were my favorite days to work. The after-church crowd was always pleasant, although skimpy with gratuities. I didn’t mind. As much as I needed the cash, agreeable customers always made for a better day than good tips.
The afternoon passed in a whirlwind of burgers, coffee refills, screaming kids, and chatty geriatrics. I hardly had time to notice that Tito hadn’t shown up for lunch or dinner. In my few spare moments of peace, I couldn’t help but wonder if he hadn’t shown up because of me.
I thought about him too much, silly waste of time that it was. I wasn’t even a blip on Tito’s radar. The man was scary hot, and untouchable as far as I could tell. I’d known him for months, served him lunch and dinner a gazillion times, and I’d never heard him speak more than one or two sentences to anyone other than Aida.
Our conversation earlier was the longest exchange we had ever shared, and I soaked up his attention like a love-starved puppy. Foolish, sure. In hindsight, it was obvious that he was only being polite, seeing as we had been stuck together in his car. Which reminded me…
I found Slade and Tango in the office. With one hand on Slade’s lower back, the other hand tangled in her hair, Tango hummed a tune I didn’t recognize and rocked Slade in a slow, gentle circle.
A jealous ache rolled through my chest.
Good Lord, they were beautiful. Always dancing. Always touching.
Tango bent for a kiss. I cleared my throat.
Slade turned her cheek to greet me. “Hey, girlie. What’s up?” The woman glowed twenty-four-seven. But in Tango’s arms, I could swear she was part angel, incandescent and blinding.
“Sorry for interrupting. I just wanted to thank you for sending Tito to pick me up today. My purse broke and spilled, so I missed my bus. I don’t mind walking, but I’d neglected to bring a coat, and it was freezing this morning, and…”
I paused, noting the look of confusion on my boss’s face.
“Tito gave you a ride?” she asked, raising her brows and shooting Tango a quick glance.
“Um. Yeah. He said you sent him because you didn’t see me get off the bus.”
“He did, huh?” Slade hid a crooked smile behind the guise of chewing her thumbnail.
I nodded.
“That’s weird. I didn’t know you took the bus.” She turned to Tango, who was grinning like the Cheshire Cat. “Isn’t that weird, honey?”
“Mmmhmm.” Tango kissed the top of her head and offered me a nod.
Margie, our seasoned waitress, poked her head through the door. “Tuuli. A guy at table six is asking for you.” She threw me a wink. “Handsome devil.”
My guts dropped and bounced around a bit. I didn’t know anyone in town, aside from my coworkers. Which meant someone I did know had made a trip into Whisper Springs to see me, which could only mean bad news was headed my way. My brother was the only person from Rockypoint who knew I worked at The Stop. He’d disappeared over a month ago.
I straightened my spine and said a quick prayer on my way to the dining room, asking God not to let it be my brother. Or any family member for that matter.
Even though his back was turned, I recognized my visitor immediately, his tall, wide frame unmistakable. His confident carriage sent a shiver through me. Forecasting the shit storm of white teeth, painted smile, and perfect pale skin that was about to wreak havoc in Tuuliland, I steeled my spine and battened down the hatches of my fragile, newfound independence before forcing my legs to carry me forward.
“Erik?”
“Tuuli.” Steely blue eyes, in all their ass-kissing glory, took me in before settling on my face. “You’ve lost weight. Didn’t think that was possible.”
“Oh. Um.” Taken aback by his insult, I floundered, dropping my gaze to the checkered tile. “How did you know I was here?” I asked his shoes. Nice shoes. Looked expensive. Shiny brown leather. Fancy thin laces.
Through my peripheral, I noticed his arms swing open. Before I could stop what was coming, he caught me in a stifling embrace, pressing me against an unforgiving chest and forcing me to inhale his expensive cologne.
My feet left the ground. An oof left my lips. I dangled in one of his famous hugs. Except it wasn’t a hug per se, but more a reminder that he was bigger and stronger, and more powerful than I would ever be. Erik’s hugs were never about intimacy or emotion. Only control—or pretense, when others were around.
When satisfied, he dropped me to my feet with an “Umpf.” Not gentle. In fact, harder than necessary, another reminder that he could break me if he so desired.
He curled long fingers around my neck, and said, “I’ve come for my girl.”
I jerked away. He pulled me right back, asserting his power with more aggression. His eyes would’ve been pretty if I didn’t know what was hiding behind the congenial mask.