Chapter 3
TRISH
T he sky outside the truck window has transformed from inky blackness to the soft lavender of pre-dawn by the time Jake announces we're crossing into Missouri.I blink awake, disoriented after dozing off somewhere in Illinois, my neck stiff from leaning against the window.
"Did I sleep through an entire state?" I mumble, straightening up and wincing as my spine protests.
"Two, actually," Jake replies, looking frustratingly fresh for someone who's been driving through the night."Ohio and Illinois."
"Why didn't you wake me for our scheduled stops?"
"You needed the rest." He hands me a travel mug that's still warm."Coffee. Black, one sugar."
I accept it gratefully, the caffeine hitting my system with welcome intensity."How are you not exhausted? Please tell me you didn't drive straight through."
"I pulled over at the rest stops.Took power naps." He looks over at me, one eyebrow raised."I don't need much sleep."
"Of course, you don't," I mutter, taking another sip."Let me guess, you've trained yourself to function on four hours like some kind of superhuman robot."
A hint of a smile crosses his face."Three, actually."
I roll my eyes, but my irritation is undermined by how touched I am that he let me sleep.I check my appearance in the visor mirror and grimace.My makeup has faded, my hair has partially escaped its updo, and there's a crease on my cheek from where it pressed against the window.
"We should reach Heartstone by early afternoon," Jake says, checking the GPS."We'll stop there for the night.Get proper meals, showers, actual beds."
"Thank God," I sigh, stretching as much as the confined space allows."No offense to your very comfortable truck, but I need to be horizontal on something that doesn't move for at least eight hours."
Jake's eyes flick to me briefly, something darkening in their depths before returning to the road."I've made reservations at the Nighty Night Bed and Breakfast.It's run by a couple named Jeremy and Dawn Lincoln.Highly rated, secure property."
"Of course you've researched the security of a bed and breakfast in a town I've never heard of," I laugh."Do you ever just... wing it?"
"No," he says simply.
"Not even once? Not even for something small and inconsequential?"
He considers this for a moment."I once ordered coffee without checking the Yelp reviews first."
I stare at him, then burst out laughing when I realize he's joking."Oh my God, was that actual humor from the robot?Alert the media."
That almost-smile appears again, transforming his face in a way that makes my stomach do a little flip."I have my moments."
"So what's in Heartstone?" I ask, curious about our first major stop."Besides this highly secure B&B you've vetted."
"Small town, about 2,000 residents.They have a local theater, a diner that's apparently something of an institution, and a classic car restoration shop.Route 14 runs right through it."
"Sounds like you've memorized the tourist brochure."
"I like knowing what to expect," he says, changing lanes to pass a slow-moving truck.
The morning continues with the miles rolling beneath us.As my body gradually adjusts to being awake, I become increasingly aware of the man beside me.In the soft morning light, Jake's profile is even more striking.
There's something about him that draws my attention in a way I can't explain.
Maybe it's the contradiction between his controlled exterior and those rare moments of dry humor.
Maybe it's the way he radiates competence and safety.
Or maybe it's just that he fills out that black t-shirt in ways that should be illegal.
"You're staring," he says without looking at me.
Heat floods my cheeks. "Sorry.Just trying to figure you out."
"Any conclusions?"
"You're complicated," I admit."All these rigid rules and boundaries, but then you do something unexpectedly considerate, like letting me sleep or getting my coffee exactly right."
"Complicated isn't the word most people use," he says, a hint of curiosity in his voice.
"What word do they use?"
"Difficult. Intense. Controlling." He says it matter-of-factly, without any apparent discomfort.
"Those too," I agree with a smile."But complicated covers all of it."
We stop at a roadside diner for breakfast.The place is nearly empty, just a couple of truckers at the counter and an elderly couple in a booth near the window.
Jake chooses a booth with clear sightlines to both exits, his back to the wall.
I slide in across from him, amused by his predictable choice.
"Let me guess," I say as the waitress hands us menus."You always sit facing the door."
"Always," he confirms, scanning the menu with the same focused attention he gives the road.
"And you'll order something protein-heavy, minimal carbs, nothing too messy or complicated."
He looks up, those striking eyes meeting mine directly."You think you've got me all figured out, don't you?"
"Am I wrong?" I challenge.
When the waitress returns, Jake orders the steak and eggs, protein-heavy just as I predicted.I opt for blueberry pancakes with a side of bacon, partly because I want them and partly to be his opposite.
"You're smirking," he observes after the waitress leaves.
"You're just so delightfully predictable," I reply."It's like I've created a psychological profile of you after less than twenty-four hours."
"And what does this profile tell you?"
I lean forward, dropping my voice to a conspiratorial whisper."That beneath all that control and precision beats the heart of an actual human being who occasionally makes jokes and lets exhausted women sleep in his truck."
"Groundbreaking analysis," he says dryly, but there's amusement in his eyes.
Our food arrives, and I nearly moan at the first bite of pancakes.It's been almost twelve hours since I last ate anything substantial, and the sweet, fluffy goodness hits all the right notes.
"These are amazing," I say around a mouthful."You should try some."
"I'm good with my predictable protein," he replies, cutting his steak.
"Live a little, Jake. One bite of pancake won't destroy your macros or whatever."
He looks at me for a long moment, then sighs and puts down his knife."One bite."
I slice off a perfect portion with enough blueberries and syrup, then offer it across the table.Instead of taking the fork from me, he leans forward and takes the bite directly from my fork, his eyes locked on mine.
Something hot and electric shoots through me at the unexpected intimacy of the gesture.His lips close around the fork, and I'm suddenly hyperaware of their shape, their fullness.
"Verdict?" I ask, my voice embarrassingly husky.
He swallows, his expression thoughtful."Not bad."
"Not bad? These are celestial pancakes, Jake.They're practically a religious experience."
"I prefer savory to sweet," he says with a shrug, but there's something in his eyes that suggests he enjoyed more than just the taste of the pancakes.
After breakfast, we're back on the road.
The landscape has changed from flat farmland to gently rolling hills as we make our way deeper into Missouri.
The tension between us has shifted somehow, charged with an awareness that wasn't there before.
I find myself noticing things I'd missed earlier, the way his t-shirt pulls across his shoulders when he adjusts his grip on the wheel, the subtle woodsy scent of his cologne,the controlled strength in his movements.
"Tell me about this wedding we're racing to," he says, breaking a comfortable silence."Must be important for you to go to these lengths."
"My best friend Jordyn is marrying this mountain man lawyer named Silas.They're total opposites but somehow perfect together.She's been planning this wedding forever, and I promised I wouldn't miss a thing."
"The dress fitting on Saturday," he remembers."Is that the only deadline we're working against?"
"The main one. There are some other pre-wedding events next week, but the fitting is crucial.The dresses had to be remade after one of the bridesmaids announced she was pregnant and would be showing by the wedding date."
Jake nods, processing this information."We'll get you there."
The certainty in his voice is reassuring.Despite having known him for less than a day, I believe him completely.Jake Winters strikes me as a man who keeps his promises, whatever the cost.
"So, what's your connection to Foxfire Valley?" I ask."You said you had business there?"
"Client meeting," he says vaguely.
"Always so specific," I tease."Let me try again. What exactly is your business, Jake?You mentioned security, but that covers everything from mall cop to James Bond."
He glances at me, a hint of amusement in his eyes."Risk assessment and security protocols for high-net-worth individuals and events."
"So closer to James Bond than mall cop."
"Neither, actually. More administrative than field work these days."
I study his profile. "I don't believe that for a second.You have 'field operative' written all over you."
"Is that so?" The corner of his mouth lifts slightly.
"The way you're always aware of exits, the way you position yourself, the way you continuously scan for threats, that's not behavior you learn sitting behind a desk writing security protocols."
His expression shifts, becoming more guarded."You're observant."
"I told you, marketing is applied psychology.I notice how people behave." I tilt my head, still watching him."So, what were you before? Military?Law enforcement?"
"Both," he admits after a pause."Marines, then private security."
"That explains a lot." The pieces are starting to fit together.
"Does it?" There's an edge to his voice now, a warning I choose to ignore.
"It explains why you're so..." I gesture vaguely at all of him.
"So what?" he challenges.
"Dominant," I say, the word slipping out before I can stop it.
His hands tighten on the steering wheel, knuckles whitening briefly before relaxing."That's an interesting choice of word."
Heat floods my cheeks, but I hold his gaze when he briefly looks at me."Am I wrong?"
The tension in the truck cab thickens, charged with something I'm not sure I'm ready to name.
"No," he says finally, his voice deeper than before."You're not wrong."
The admission hangs between us, loaded with implications neither of us addresses.I look away first, suddenly needing to break the intensity of the moment.
"We're about an hour from Heartstone," Jake says, his voice back to its usual controlled tone."You should text your friend, let her know you're making progress."
Grateful for the distraction, I pull out my phone to update Jordyn, still hyperaware of Jake besideme.
When we finally see the sign welcoming us to Heartstone, Missouri, a mix of relief and regret fillsme.
Relief at the prospect of a real bed and a proper shower, regret that this first leg of our journey isending.
Despite the strangeness of our situation, there's something about being contained in this truck with Jake that feels oddlyright,as if we've created our own little world where only the two of usexist.
"There it is," Jake says as we drive past a sign reading "Welcome to Heartstone – A Sweet Little Town Close to the Heart ofMissouri."
The town unfolds before us like a movie set, charming storefronts with colorful awnings, a small park with benches beneath leafy trees, locals going about their business with unhurriedease.
We pass a diner with a neon sign declaring it "Kathy's Diner," a theater called "Upstage Dinner Theater," and an auto shop with "Miller Car Restoration & Repair" painted on the large garagedoors.
"It's exactly like you said," I murmur, taking in the picture-perfect small-townscene."Like something out of a Hallmarkmovie."
"The Nighty Night should be up ahead on the right," Jake says, slowing as we approach a large, white Victorian house set back from theroad."There itis."
The B&B is a grand old house with a wraparound porch and gabled windows, overlooking what appears to be a lake behindit.
As Jake pulls into the gravel driveway, the front door opens and a woman stepsout.
She's beautiful, with natural curly hair framing a round face, full lips curved in a welcomingsmile.
"That must be Dawn Lincoln," Jake says, parking thetruck."The co-owner Imentioned."
He cuts the engine, and for a moment, neither of usmoves.Our journey has only just begun, but I already feel like something significant has shifted betweenus.This small town in Missouri marks not just our first stop, but the first acknowledgment of the undeniable tension building betweenus.
"Ready?" Jake asks, his eyes meeting mine making my breathcatch.
The question feels weighted with meaning beyond our immediatesituation.
"As I'll ever be," I reply, holding hisgaze.
Whatever happens in Heartstone, I have a feeling it will change the course of our entirejourney.