and dirty. You asked what happened. I don't know. One day I overheard Joe and my uncle talking. They made references to Joe's new job as the landscape architect: my position. So..."
"So you quit."
"Yeah, and that's why I'm busting my ass driving. I'm saving to open my own firm.” He pointed ahead. “That one's mine."
The nose of a bright yellow semi jutted out a couple of feet in front of the others. Paige stepped around the shiny chrome bumper, caressing the immaculate finish. She read the wording on the door. Beauchamps Enterprises, Dallas, Texas. “You live in Dallas?"
"I rent a cheap studio apartment for the rare weekend or holiday when I'm not on the road. It's where the truck is registered and I keep a post office box. Mostly, I live here.” He rapped the door panel with his knuckles.
She craned her neck upward. “They're even bigger up close."
He unlocked and opened the door. Its lower edge bumped her in the shoulder.
"I always stay at least a lane away from these things on the highway. I'm petrified they'll veer into my lane and crush me."
"Remember one thing, if you can see these mirrors...” He knuckled the chrome frame of one just over his head. “Then the driver can see you. Ready to head out?"
"You never told me where we were going."
"I got the distinct impression it didn't matter."
She turned a baleful eye on him.
"We're headed east. Does that fit your plan?"
"How do you know about my plan?"
Chris rolled his Hershey bar-colored eyes. “You coming?” He took her elbow. The sensations in her lower region reactivated sending nearly uncontrollable bursts of energy into her feet. She took hold of the shiny door handle while convincing her inner self that waiting for Stefano was far worse than a few hours spent squelching sexual energy.
He lifted her in then handed her the bag and shut the door. She cradled it in her lap wrapping her arms around it and pulling it tight against her. The pressure helped stem the sexual force.
Paige watched in the side mirror as Chris strode around the trailer, bending and peering, doing whatever a trucker does before taking off. She watched him in the smaller convex mirror attached underneath the side mirror. His clothes, though not new, were clean and well kept. The jeans delineated his tight ass and muscular thighs. She looked away, but couldn't help wondering how he kept in such good shape being on the road so much of the time. He wasn't at all her stereotypical image of a pot-bellied, gruff speaking trucker.
She concentrated on the inside of the vehicle, which smelled of leather and after-shave. No dust anywhere, not even on the dash. Her eyes widened at the number of dials and black digital screens, all in a semicircle in front of the driver.
A minute later, Chris swung himself effortlessly inside and inserted a key in the ignition. The key chain held an enormous number of keys and she nearly found herself asking what each of them went to. The engine roared to life and the radio blasted country music through speakers back in the bunk, which was closed off by a pair of heavy brown curtains.
He saw her interest in the bunk area and drew the curtain aside. “I'll bet someone like you has never been inside one of these rigs. Check it out if you like."
"What do you mean someone like me?"
He laughed. “Never mind. So, what did you really study in college?"
"Shopping,” she threw over her shoulder and stepped between the bucket seats. “I was taught how to walk and to talk and to act like a regular lady."
"Liza Doolittle."
She poked her head back through the curtain. “I never realized you guys lived in these things. Look at this won't you—a TV and a stove! Well, now I've seen everything. You even have a bathroom?"
"Not a bathroom really, just a porta-potty. I have to stop for showers, but there's a sink where I can shave and whatever."
Paige slipped back through the curtain and into her seat. “I always thought there was just a bed back
"So you quit."
"Yeah, and that's why I'm busting my ass driving. I'm saving to open my own firm.” He pointed ahead. “That one's mine."
The nose of a bright yellow semi jutted out a couple of feet in front of the others. Paige stepped around the shiny chrome bumper, caressing the immaculate finish. She read the wording on the door. Beauchamps Enterprises, Dallas, Texas. “You live in Dallas?"
"I rent a cheap studio apartment for the rare weekend or holiday when I'm not on the road. It's where the truck is registered and I keep a post office box. Mostly, I live here.” He rapped the door panel with his knuckles.
She craned her neck upward. “They're even bigger up close."
He unlocked and opened the door. Its lower edge bumped her in the shoulder.
"I always stay at least a lane away from these things on the highway. I'm petrified they'll veer into my lane and crush me."
"Remember one thing, if you can see these mirrors...” He knuckled the chrome frame of one just over his head. “Then the driver can see you. Ready to head out?"
"You never told me where we were going."
"I got the distinct impression it didn't matter."
She turned a baleful eye on him.
"We're headed east. Does that fit your plan?"
"How do you know about my plan?"
Chris rolled his Hershey bar-colored eyes. “You coming?” He took her elbow. The sensations in her lower region reactivated sending nearly uncontrollable bursts of energy into her feet. She took hold of the shiny door handle while convincing her inner self that waiting for Stefano was far worse than a few hours spent squelching sexual energy.
He lifted her in then handed her the bag and shut the door. She cradled it in her lap wrapping her arms around it and pulling it tight against her. The pressure helped stem the sexual force.
Paige watched in the side mirror as Chris strode around the trailer, bending and peering, doing whatever a trucker does before taking off. She watched him in the smaller convex mirror attached underneath the side mirror. His clothes, though not new, were clean and well kept. The jeans delineated his tight ass and muscular thighs. She looked away, but couldn't help wondering how he kept in such good shape being on the road so much of the time. He wasn't at all her stereotypical image of a pot-bellied, gruff speaking trucker.
She concentrated on the inside of the vehicle, which smelled of leather and after-shave. No dust anywhere, not even on the dash. Her eyes widened at the number of dials and black digital screens, all in a semicircle in front of the driver.
A minute later, Chris swung himself effortlessly inside and inserted a key in the ignition. The key chain held an enormous number of keys and she nearly found herself asking what each of them went to. The engine roared to life and the radio blasted country music through speakers back in the bunk, which was closed off by a pair of heavy brown curtains.
He saw her interest in the bunk area and drew the curtain aside. “I'll bet someone like you has never been inside one of these rigs. Check it out if you like."
"What do you mean someone like me?"
He laughed. “Never mind. So, what did you really study in college?"
"Shopping,” she threw over her shoulder and stepped between the bucket seats. “I was taught how to walk and to talk and to act like a regular lady."
"Liza Doolittle."
She poked her head back through the curtain. “I never realized you guys lived in these things. Look at this won't you—a TV and a stove! Well, now I've seen everything. You even have a bathroom?"
"Not a bathroom really, just a porta-potty. I have to stop for showers, but there's a sink where I can shave and whatever."
Paige slipped back through the curtain and into her seat. “I always thought there was just a bed back
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