6. Caden
CHAPTER 6
Caden
I know I’m being an asshole, but I can’t help it.
The minute I saw her walk out of Stella’s bakery, it all made sense. Maura didn’t give me any information about this new girl, because she knew I’d connect the dots and refuse to come.
If I’d known, I would have called up Westway Coaches myself and ordered them to take her right back to whichever god-forsaken city she came from.
But she’s here and she’s in my truck.
Sitting less than two feet from me, staring out the window with her body angled away, no doubt holding back tears from my bitter introduction.
It’s abundantly clear that sending me to pick up Millie Adams has nothing to do with Bill being out of town, and everything to do with Maura’s sick plan to get me hitched before my 35th birthday.
If I’d given her a brief for finding someone who’s just my type, she would have nailed it with this one. But I didn’t give her a brief, because my love life, or lack thereof, is none of her fucking business.
This meddling has to stop.
I screech out of the parking lot, checking my gas tank gauge as I merge onto the highway. I’ve got close to a full tank and should be able to cut ten minutes off the drive with a little bit of foot-down.
Silence fills the cab.
I glance in the rear-view mirror. Doug is sprawled across the back seat, his mouth wide open, catching flies without a single sound to break the tension. It’s interesting that he snores like a freight train through the night when I’m trying to sleep, but can’t help me out with a few grunts right about now.
I shouldn’t look at her, but my mind is begging me to steal a glance. She showed up in beige sweatpants and a matching cropped fleece, scoring zero points for common fucking sense. Those bottoms aren’t going to last five seconds in the murky slush that’s currently forming a moat around the staff house.
I didn’t miss the fact that she didn’t seem to have a jacket either.
In fact, I didn’t miss a thing about her as she walked towards me, protecting those cakes like her life depended on it.
My cock twitches in my jeans as I think about the contrast between her tiny waist and the abundant curves of her chest and hips.
And those freckles across the bridge of her nose.
Fuck me.
This is going to be one long ass summer if she defeats the odds and ends up sticking around.
I can’t let that happen.
I need to make sure she’s running back to the city before she even has time to unpack.
I’ve still got a first-class view of the back of her head. She seems to have twisted even further towards the open passenger window, her cheek resting on the sill as her wavy brown hair flows with the wind.
I push the dial to turn the radio on, cranking the volume up so high that country music spills out onto the highway and into the trees. Millie bats her hand at the dial before the first song even has the chance to make it through the intro. The truck is plunged back into a thick smog of silence.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I demand.
She unfurls from her pretzel position, turning to face me dead on. “Turning the music off, clearly.”
“For what reason, exactly?” I blurt. This girl has got some nerve.
“Because I don’t want to listen to it,” she says, as if that’s reason enough.
“And?” I seethe. “This is my truck, I make the rules. You don’t like it? You can walk the rest of the way.”
There’s a click as I flick the button on my arm rest, unlocking the doors and giving her full permission to get the fuck out.
She opens her mouth, closing it again before she lets any words fall out.
Just as well.
I can’t imagine she would have anything to say that would make me want to do anything other than kick her out on the side of the road .
I turn the music back on.
I’m in a race with the clock on the dash. If I can make it to the crossing in the next ten minutes, we’ll miss the trains. Being stuck on this side of the railway while the Monday morning freights make their way through the valley is not on my agenda for today.
Especially not while I’m confined here with her .
The music cuts again and fury gurgles in my gut. I turn to face her, but the anger dies on my tongue as I clock the tears pooling in the corners of her eyes.
“You know,” she gasps, as though sadness has stolen the air from her lungs. “You were kind of an asshole back there, and you’re definitely being an asshole now.”
I pin my eyes on the road in front of me. I don’t like seeing people cry, but I refuse to let her emotions run roughshod over me.
I need to stay focused.
Need to find a way to make her leave.
“I am an asshole, honey,” I grunt. It’s not the closest thing to the truth, but I’ll do whatever I can to make her believe it.
“I can see that,” she blurts. “I… I’ve come all this way, and all I want to do is start over and find a place where people aren’t total shitheads. I’m terrified, and anxious, and out of my bloody mind hoping this works out. And you can’t even find it within yourself to show me the tiniest bit of kindness. You couldn’t even tell me your name before you started barking at me and trying to burst my eardrums with your country trash. So yeah, I think asshole is about right.”
Country trash?!
I wasn’t that fond of her to start with, but she’s just made it a whole lot worse with that statement.
I’ve only just met this girl yet, somehow, we’ve already fallen into quarreling territory with the startling ease of ready-made enemies.
Releasing whatever dam she’s managed to keep up for the first part of the journey, she folds into painful sobs across from me, hyperventilating as she tries to catch her breath.
For fuck’s sake.
I reach over her towards the glove compartment, releasing it with a click and dropping a box of tissues onto the dash.
It’s not out of kindness. I just want to make sure she's got the means to keep her city germs to herself.
Doug stirs, clambering over the central console and straight into her lap, forgetting any bro code I’ve tried to instill in him.
Wiping at her eyes with the corner of her fleece, she looks down at the traitor resting on her legs, letting out stilted breaths as she strokes a palm over his greying coat.
“Hi, baby,” she murmurs softly in between whimpers, ruffling his fur as he laps up her attention. “Aren’t you the most handsome pup?”
Interesting.
It seems like she does have some reserved softness left within her, just not for me.
My jaw ticks as I stew over her outburst, wincing as I remember the quiet hurt resting in between each word. I don’t want her here, but I’m not sure I can stand to see her crying like that again either.
“Caden,” I say, swallowing my pride and offering her my name as a temporary truce. “I’m Caden. And that’s Doug.”