Chapter Two

Shepherd worked to sit and just breathe for

the next minute. He blinked back the tears that were threatening.

Nothing made a man look weaker than tears, or at least that’s what

his father had preached at him all his life. Usually while the man

was beating him for some infraction or another, up until two weeks

ago.

The last two weeks had been blissfully

pain-free, though since things one and two had shown up in his

bedroom he now understood why. Selling your son covered in bruises

would no doubt lessen the selling price.

“Those guys were chasing me because they

were my guards. They were driving me to a private airport near

Emporia where they were going to turn me over to a Carlos Reymundos

who was going to make me disappear so I couldn’t fuck up my

father’s reelection campaign. They wanted me to shower and change

into clean clothes at the truck stop so I was acceptable to

Reymundos. When the one guarding the shower room they’d gotten for

me had to take a shit, I took the opportunity to run for my

life.”

Shepherd stopped, giving Brogan a moment to

digest his story so far. Lacing his fingers, he rubbed his thumbs

together in an effort to calm himself. It was a trick his mother

had taught him when he was in kindergarten. It helped, and was not

too obvious to anyone else unless they were looking for it.

“And what did you do to fuck up your

father’s reelection campaign?”

“I refused to go to law school as directed

and instead followed my own path, which began in high school.

According to my father, I became quote, a gay bohemian artist whose

works negatively influences the next generation, unquote.”

Brogan looked over at him, looking shocked

in the glow of light coming off the dashboard. “Excuse me?”

Shepherd could not help but chuckle at his

stunned tone. “Yeah, that’s what I said the first time I heard him

say it. What it means is that I became a bestselling author and

illustrator of children’s books that encourage being nice to

others, sharing your toys, and using your imagination.”

“Who the fuck is your father that he thinks

he can run your life like that?”

“Donald Michael Stone.”

“The self-proclaimed hippie turned

uber-conservative senator?”

“Yep, that’s him.” Shepherd pulled his legs

up and crossed them on the seat. “I’ll understand if you want to

stop and let me out, but could you do it at another truck stop,

please?”

Brogan did not say anything for a moment.

“If I let you out, what are you going to do?”

Though he did not want to admit it, even to

himself, Shepherd said, “I have no idea.”

“Well, until you do, why don’t you keep me

company? I’m headed to Florida where I’ll deliver this load of

apples this afternoon and check in with Sam about my next load.

I’ll be on the road for a couple more days before I get a week

break just outside Kansas City.”

“I’d like that,” Shepherd said through a

wide yawn.

Maybe he could turn this strange trip out of

his mundane life into something more. The first germs of a story

about a truck driving bear were already starting to bubble in his

mind.

At their next stop, he would have to see

about getting paper and something to draw with to capture the ideas

as they grew. In the meantime, he would learn what he could about

trucking in general, and Brogan Myles in particular.

He also needed to figure out how to confirm

that Brogan was gay. His gaydar was not always accurate, and the

last thing he wanted to do was flirt with a man who could kill him

with just a few punches. Once he confirmed Brogan’s gayness, he

would see if the big man might be interested in a tryst, if not

something more. Because he found himself inexplicitly drawn to the

big bear of a trucker. Which would make his father even crazier if

he ever found out.

****

Brogan looked over and saw Shepherd dozing

off. “If you want to lean the seat back, you might be more

comfortable.”

Shepherd jumped, then looked around, as if

he had forgotten where he was. “I can do that?”

“Sure. I never sit over there, so make

yourself at comfortable.”

The giggle he received at his comment sent a

warmth through him that settled in his cock. His more than

half-hard cock that wanted to pull to the side of the road and take

Shepherd into his bed long enough to slake the hunger that seemed

to be growing in his body and soul like over-yeasted bread.

Though he knew next to nothing about

Shepherd Stone, he wanted him. For more than just the next seven

hours they would be on the road to Jacksonville.

Though he kept checking the road, he also

watched as Shepherd shifted the seat back before pulling his legs

up under him and curling on his side. It was only a few minutes

before Brogan heard soft snoring sounds as he gave in and

slept.

Brogan grabbed his left earbud and connected

it to both his phone and the radio system all truckers used to

communicate with one another. He did not want the noise of his job

to wake the sweet man beside him.

Shifting in his seat, he continued driving

south as the dawn slowly approached and eventually broke over the

eastern horizon.

The next three hours passed quickly. The

truck roared through the predawn darkness with little other traffic

to contend with. That was one of the reasons Brogan preferred

driving in the early morning hours when he had the road to himself.

He also arrived early enough to drop his load that he rarely had to

wait more than a few minutes.

They were nearly to the South Carolina

border when Shepherd’s stomach rumbled loud enough to wake the man

up. He jerked and opened his eyes. Blinking several times, he

looked around before turning to Brogan.

“Good morning,” Brogan said with a

smile.

Shepherd blinked a couple more times, then

stretched. “Morning. Sorry I fell asleep on you.”

“You were tired.”

“Where are we?” Shepherd asked as he looked

around. “How long was I asleep?”

Brogan answered the questions in reverse

order. “You slept about three hours. We’re almost to South

Carolina.”

“Cool,” Shepherd said before shifting in his

seat. “Is there be any way we could stop for a few minutes?”

Having driven this road many, many times,

Brogan knew there was a truck stop with a twenty-four-hour

restaurant at the next exit. “Sure. It’s a good time for breakfast

and a walk. We can also talk about what you’re going to do

next.”