Chapter Three

To Shepherd, topping off the semi’s gas

tank, washing the windows, and checking the oil were exciting to

watch. After they finished at the gas pumps, Brogan drove around

the building and backed the truck into a space between two

others.

“That was amazing how you slid the truck in

between those other two like it was nothing,” Shepherd gushed as

they walked across the parking lot to the huge building. This was

an entirely new world for him, and he was soaking it all in like a

dry sponge plunged into warm water.

Brogan’s lips tilted up in a small smile as

he shrugged. “Let’s go get you some breakfast, Hoss, and talk about

what you want to do next.”

“I can’t,” Shepherd whispered as he stopped

in his tracks. “I don’t have any cash, just my debit and credit

cards.”

Brogan wrapped one big hand around the back

of Shepard’s neck, sending a heated shiver through his entire body

that settled in his cock, which began to inflate. What was it about

this man that had him so turned on even though they had just met a

few hours before in one of the craziest first meetings he could

ever think of?

“I’ll buy breakfast, but I have an idea that

will make your father crazy, and send his goons on a wild goose

chase.”

Shepherd grinned as they approached the

truck stop doors. “I like that. And after what he wanted to do to

me, he deserves to be driven a little crazy.”

As they passed through the quick stop type

shop, a display caught Shepherd’s eye. There were books and

notebooks, kids’ toys and crayons. He changed directions and was

flipping through the various notebooks, trying to find one that

felt right.

Then he found the perfect one at the very

back of the shelf. A thick sketchbook with a bright purple color.

Grabbing it, he found a package of mechanical pens and a good size

package of decent quality crayons. Everything he would need to work

on his next book.

“Hoss?” Brogan stepped up beside him, having

realized he’d been sidetracked.

“Can the clerk hold this until after we

figure out how to get me some cash?” Shepherd felt like a child

asking for a favor, but he did not know how truck stops worked.

This was only the second one he’d ever been in.

“Sure,” Brogan said as they stepped to the

end of the line of customers checking out.

“Brogan Myles, how the hell are you?” A

white-haired and bearded man approached from the trucker’s area, a

small suitcase in one hand.

For a second, Shepherd thought he looked

like Santa Clause, but realized the man was much too thin.

“Thad Tucker, good to see you’re still

driving,” Brogan said as he shook the man’s hand and then did the

one-armed hug that manly men did.

“This is my last run. Doc’s got me starting

chemo next week, so I’m having to retired.”

“Sorry to hear that. Keep in touch and let

me know if you need anything. And when you’re ready to roll again,

let me know and I’ll have Sam set you up with a job. In the

meantime, how about joining us for breakfast? You’d be perfect for

helping Hoss here solve a problem, if you’re willing.”

“Thanks, I’d love to. And I’m always happy

to help solve problems.”

By this time, they had reached the counter.

Instead of asking the clerk to hold the items until after Shepherd

got some money, Brogan handed over a credit card he had pulled from

his chest pocket.

The girl quickly rang them up and handed the

card and receipt back to Brogan and then slid everything into a

plastic bag. Brogan took the bag and handed it off to Shepherd who

looked from the bag to the man in shock.

“I was going to pay for them,” Shepherd said

as Brogan once again took hold of his scruff and guided him away

from the counter and toward the restaurant.

“I know, but now you don’t have to,” Brogan

said with a smile.

“I’ll pay you back,” he promised, not

surprised when Brogan shook his head.

“That’s not necessary.”

Shepherd wanted to argue, but a glint in

Brogan’s eyes told him he would lose. He would have to figure out

how to repay the man’s kindness without Brogan realizing it.

His stomach rumbled loudly as the scent of

bacon and maple syrup wafted around them.

“Someone’s hungry,” Thaddeus commented,

causing Shepherd to blush as they settled around a table.

“Coffee all around?” the waitress asked as

she set packets of silverware on the table.

“Could I have a soda, please?” Shepherd

asked, wondering if the truckers would give him a hard time for not

being a coffee drinker.

“Sure, hon. Want to order now, too?” She

pulled out her pad and pen.

Before Shepherd could answer, Brogan said,

without looking at the menu, “Three breakfast specials, two

coffees, and leave us the pot, and a soda.”

“You got it, Brogan,” the waitress said with

a grin.

A moment later, she was gone and they were

left alone.

“So, Brogan, you take on a partner? Or

teaching the next generation how to be the best trucker on the

road? Or maybe you picked up this little hottie to warm your bed

this run?”

****

Knowing Thad was the biggest gossip on the

road and anything they talked about would be all over the airwaves

within the hour, Brogan ignored his intrusive questions. Instead,

he just stared at the older trucker until he lifted his hands to

shoulder level in the universal sign of surrender.

“Sorry, man. Just thought I’d ask.”

“You’re too nosy for your own good,” Brogan

answered with a chuckle that even to his own ears sounded ice

cold.

Margie, their waitress, arrived back a

moment later with two empty mugs, a tall glass of soda, and an

insulated coffee pot. “Food will be out in a minute, guys.”

“Thanks Margie,” both men said.

She poured both mugs full before setting the

pot on the table between them. She then handed Shepherd a straw and

was gone again.

Brogan glanced at Shepherd, suspicious that

the man was so quiet. Shepherd did not seem the type to go long

without talking, but he was glad he was holding his tongue in here,

where ears and nosy truckers were everywhere. The man was looking

around with wide eyes, as if he had never seen a truck stop

restaurant before.

After a long sip of his coffee, Thad set

down his mug and said, “So what kind of help does your friend

need?”

“He’s in trouble and needs help getting

money out of the ATM. I can’t since he’ll be riding with me. Since

you’re on your last run, you can use his cards, get him the money,

and then head home.”

“I won’t get in trouble for this, will

I?”

Brogan shook his head. “When did you ever

worry about getting in trouble before? Haven’t you been one of the

outlaw truckers for the last thirty years?”

Thad chuckled and took another draw on his

coffee. “You’re right. Sure, I’ll help. And if anyone does show up

on my front porch, I’ll claim to know nothing, which I don’t. When

do you want to do it?”

“Just before we head out. That way we’ll be

long gone if anyone shows up looking for my friend.”

“That’s perfect,” Shepherd said softly,

sounding in awe that a couple of truckers would be willing to help

him. “Thank you for helping us.”

“Anytime, son,” Thad said with a smile that

had Brogan narrowing his eyes at the other man. If anyone was going

to take Shepherd to bed, it would be him. That was, if the little

man was gay, which they had yet to discuss.

Before Brogan could assure the little author

that he would keep him safe, not only from his father’s men, but

also from any other trucker who might look sideways at him, Margie

was back with their food.