Billings.”
Ralph and Ronald offered their thanks and we left them staring at the small phone screen. “I’ll be sure to share this on Facebook,” he called out.
Great.
We got in line to pay for our drinks. “New friends?” The deep timbre of JT’s voice made my nipples harden. I didn’t even have to see him to get all hot and bothered. I wouldn’t mind writing something around his belly button. Just because he was a jerk didn’t mean it wouldn’t be fun.
“Mmm,” I replied noncommittally.
“Or are they fans? Guys who aren’t just imagining what you look like beneath your clothes, but know ?”
I spun around, ready to tell him I was not Silky Tangles for the umpteenth time. But when his face was right there, his dark eyes so piercing that he could practically hypnotize a woman out of her panties, I decided against it. It was the cocky grin that had me changing tactics.
I shrugged casually, moved a step forward in line. “It’s important to me that I’m available to my fans.”
“Available?” He took a sip of his coffee and eyed me over the brim.
“This is a truck stop, the perfect place to build my fan base.” I sighed. “Besides, it’s great men recognize me even without my hair styled and the fake eyelashes. Don’t forget the clothes. They even recognize me in clothes. Just like you did before the whole Taser thing.”
One of his eyebrows went up, the little scar shifting into the shape of a comma. His coffee was forgotten, but he still held it up by his mouth. “So you’re saying—”
“Give me your drink, Daphne,” Goldie told me, interrupting us. “Go get Zach away from that barrel of beef jerky. If he eats any of it, he’ll have diarrhea for a week, especially the jalapeno flavor.”
I grinned at the surprised look on JT’s face and put a little extra shift in my hips on my way over to the jerky barrel, although shorts and an old T-shirt weren’t that alluring.
We made it to Billings in a record-setting pace of four hours. It was the slowest trip ever made by a motorized vehicle when the roads were dry. Lewis and Clark made it by boat faster back in the day. Besides the break at the first truck stop outside Livingston, we hit the next one as well because everyone drank too much of their beverages. Goldie’s ban on the RV’s bathroom made for very slow going. There were four men waiting at the next Trekker for me, or Silky Tangles, so I signed autographs then beelined for the safety of the empty ladies’ room. How the men knew I was going to be there had me stumped until they mentioned something about Facebook.
Zach was met by his friend and mother in the parking lot of a McDonald’s off the highway. After a quick romp in the Playland, they were on their way. The remainder of us waited for Esther Millhouse. Aunt Velma was asleep in the back bedroom, her snoring cutting through the quiet like a buzz saw in the springtime. Goldie read from her e-reader in the driver’s seat, her rhinestone-encrusted eyeglass holder that ran around her neck sparkled in the sunlight. JT paced outside the RV on his cell as he took a sip from another cup of coffee. If I drank as much caffeine as he had, I’d be up for a week. I was stuck at the miniscule dinette with my laptop, trying to eek out the beginnings of a road trip article. So far the topic was Truck Stops Of The West, but it was early enough in the trip to be hopeful for more.
We were so far behind I didn’t know if Esther was late or we’d missed her and she’d given up. I glanced at my watch with a sigh. Four o’clock. At the rate we were going, we wouldn’t be to Sturgis until the middle of the night. Just when I was about to close the lid on my computer and take a nap myself, a horn blared to the tune of Dixie . Montana was definitely a red state and folks leaned toward the conservative, but I didn’t consider it a part of the South. We weren’t remotely near the Mason-Dixon line and it was more about cowboys and
Ralph and Ronald offered their thanks and we left them staring at the small phone screen. “I’ll be sure to share this on Facebook,” he called out.
Great.
We got in line to pay for our drinks. “New friends?” The deep timbre of JT’s voice made my nipples harden. I didn’t even have to see him to get all hot and bothered. I wouldn’t mind writing something around his belly button. Just because he was a jerk didn’t mean it wouldn’t be fun.
“Mmm,” I replied noncommittally.
“Or are they fans? Guys who aren’t just imagining what you look like beneath your clothes, but know ?”
I spun around, ready to tell him I was not Silky Tangles for the umpteenth time. But when his face was right there, his dark eyes so piercing that he could practically hypnotize a woman out of her panties, I decided against it. It was the cocky grin that had me changing tactics.
I shrugged casually, moved a step forward in line. “It’s important to me that I’m available to my fans.”
“Available?” He took a sip of his coffee and eyed me over the brim.
“This is a truck stop, the perfect place to build my fan base.” I sighed. “Besides, it’s great men recognize me even without my hair styled and the fake eyelashes. Don’t forget the clothes. They even recognize me in clothes. Just like you did before the whole Taser thing.”
One of his eyebrows went up, the little scar shifting into the shape of a comma. His coffee was forgotten, but he still held it up by his mouth. “So you’re saying—”
“Give me your drink, Daphne,” Goldie told me, interrupting us. “Go get Zach away from that barrel of beef jerky. If he eats any of it, he’ll have diarrhea for a week, especially the jalapeno flavor.”
I grinned at the surprised look on JT’s face and put a little extra shift in my hips on my way over to the jerky barrel, although shorts and an old T-shirt weren’t that alluring.
We made it to Billings in a record-setting pace of four hours. It was the slowest trip ever made by a motorized vehicle when the roads were dry. Lewis and Clark made it by boat faster back in the day. Besides the break at the first truck stop outside Livingston, we hit the next one as well because everyone drank too much of their beverages. Goldie’s ban on the RV’s bathroom made for very slow going. There were four men waiting at the next Trekker for me, or Silky Tangles, so I signed autographs then beelined for the safety of the empty ladies’ room. How the men knew I was going to be there had me stumped until they mentioned something about Facebook.
Zach was met by his friend and mother in the parking lot of a McDonald’s off the highway. After a quick romp in the Playland, they were on their way. The remainder of us waited for Esther Millhouse. Aunt Velma was asleep in the back bedroom, her snoring cutting through the quiet like a buzz saw in the springtime. Goldie read from her e-reader in the driver’s seat, her rhinestone-encrusted eyeglass holder that ran around her neck sparkled in the sunlight. JT paced outside the RV on his cell as he took a sip from another cup of coffee. If I drank as much caffeine as he had, I’d be up for a week. I was stuck at the miniscule dinette with my laptop, trying to eek out the beginnings of a road trip article. So far the topic was Truck Stops Of The West, but it was early enough in the trip to be hopeful for more.
We were so far behind I didn’t know if Esther was late or we’d missed her and she’d given up. I glanced at my watch with a sigh. Four o’clock. At the rate we were going, we wouldn’t be to Sturgis until the middle of the night. Just when I was about to close the lid on my computer and take a nap myself, a horn blared to the tune of Dixie . Montana was definitely a red state and folks leaned toward the conservative, but I didn’t consider it a part of the South. We weren’t remotely near the Mason-Dixon line and it was more about cowboys and
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