Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 95898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 479(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 479(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
I quickly turn around and see a large red Ford pick-up truck. It looks very used and abused, and at the sight of it, I slightly relax, knowing it’s not Travis. However, I swallow hard against the lump in my throat when the truck doesn’t drive by. It slows down, and then comes to a full stop a few feet away from me. I’m about to find my second wind and run, but before I do, I catch a glimpse of the driver. He’s a good-looking guy; I guess you could call him a redneck, but he’s a handsome-looking redneck.
He leans his head out the window, giving me a friendly smile, and I minutely relax.
“You lost, darlin’?” he calls out with a rich southern drawl.
I quickly shake my head. "I'm fine, thank you."
He eyes me up-and-down then pitches his head to the side, a lock of blond hair spilling over his forehead while he watches me warily.
“You don't look fine. In fact, I’m a little concerned for you. Don’t find many women walkin’ along a dark country road, ‘specially at 5:30 in the morning. Not unless you’re doin’ a serious walk of shame with nothing but the shirt on your back.”
I don’t know how to respond to that comment, but at least he's nice enough to say I don't look like a hooker. Even though it's 5:30 in the morning, and I’ve cooled off from my long run, the hot and humid air has started to seep into my skin, rendering me parched and fatigued.
“Why don't I give you a lift into town?” he offers. “Is that where you're headed?”
Shifting my feet, I don't answer. I’m wary as hell going anywhere with strangers. For obvious reasons. As if he could read my mind, he holds his hand out of the truck window with his palm facing me in a friendly gesture to show me he’s harmless. “I’m just a country boy showin’ a little southern hospitality. I just want to help a lady who looks to be in distress.” His southern accent, charm, and the twinkle in his eyes have him looking so sincere. Trying to ascertain his intentions, all I can come up with is he truly wants to be a Good Samaritan. I decide to take a chance. “C’mon, what do you say? It’s a long hike into Raleigh from here.”
“Okay,” I meekly reply, biting my lower lip with worry.
I’m tired, and it would be best if I get off the road and out of plain sight, especially with daylight breaking. I’m sure the guys will be freaking out the second they find me gone. I make my way to the passenger side of the truck and open the door. When I step up on the running board, I glance into the back seat and suppress a grin. This is definitely a man’s truck. It's filthy, full of trash, with old crumpled paper bags of fast food and empty water bottles strewn across the entire cab.
“Sorry about the mess. This is my work truck. If I'd known I was going to be picking up a pretty little lady this mornin’, I would've brought my brand new GMC Sierra Denali 2500, v8 engine with 420 horsepower and 460lb-ft of torque,” he says as if he is Tim the Tool Man, and then his lips twitch before he breaks out into a beautiful smile. His grin and silliness is infectious, and I giggle, returning his smile.
“Well, damsels in distress can't be choosy now, can they?”
His smile dissipates, and his expression grows serious as he looks at me out of the corner of his eye. “Are you…a damsel in distress?” I pause, hesitating to step fully into the truck. He must see the conflicting emotions running across my face, because he tries to reassure me.
“It's okay, sweetheart. I'm not going to hurt you. I'm happy to help. It's what real gentlemen do here in the south.” Oh, if he only knew what other gentlemen do here in the south, he wouldn't be saying that.
I take a moment to study him before climbing in. He has a strong build, and a very nice tan, as if he works under the sun, on a farm maybe. The color of his striking blond hair is one that even I’m jealous of. He can't be much older than me.
He pats the empty seat beside him, garnering my attention. “C’mon,” he encourages with a smile, “I don’t bite.” I go ahead and hoist myself up into the front seat and close the truck door.
Judging from his helpful and sweet personality, I could see where he wouldn’t have the first clue about what debauchery goes on in the business sector of the south. This handsome young man is what the real south was made of. I have to remind myself not everyone is out to hunt me down. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding as I let the tension out of my shoulders and relax.