This Much is True - Tia Louise Page 0,18
he was just a little boy pretending to be a man.”
“Good call. Never let some small-minded prick kill your mojo.”
“Where are we?” JR’s grumpy voice from the backseat makes me jump and put my feet down.
“We’re outside El Paso… Socorro.”
JR rubs a hand over his face. “I need a shower.”
“Me too,” Scout says. “I’m getting ripe.”
My nose scrunches, but the truth is, I could use one too. I’ve been riding post-hangover for almost 24 hours.
Scout cuts the speed and leans forward to read the signs. He tosses his phone at me. “See what you can find.”
Scooping it up, I tap on the icon for accommodations. “This Deluxe Inn says forty-five dollars a night. Exit… Oh, it’s the next exit!”
He immediately puts on the blinker and drives us off the interstate. We take a right and go less than a quarter mile to where a wide, asphalt entrance leads up to a line of ancient cinder-block units painted white.
A big blue sign reading “Truck Parking” greets us at the entrance, and it looks like something out of a low-budget slasher film.
JR seems to anticipate all our reactions. “I’ll get one room. If we stay together, we’ll be fine. We won’t be here long.”
I glance out the window and decide beggars can’t be choosers, and at least JR is somewhat intimidating. He definitely looks like he can kick some ass if he has to.
Twenty minutes later, I’m in a narrow shower stall with my eyes closed as warm water flows over my face and down my body like rainbows from heaven. I do my best to suppress a groan, but holy crap. After 24 hours of sticky brine from a beach walk followed by sick followed by sweaty heat, this might be the best shower of my life.
Scout went first, because he’d been driving the longest, and he insisted he smelled like ass… Massive eye roll. JR said he didn’t mind going last, and for his sake, I force myself to cut it short.
Stepping out, I grab a threadbare towel and wrap it around me. Collecting my hand-washed panties, I head into the single-room to dress behind a makeshift curtain he hung around the bed.
“I tried to save you some hot water.”
“Thanks.” His response is cordial, but he doesn’t linger.
The door closes fast, and the sound of water running meets my ears. Scout is sprawled out on the couch in jeans and a t-shirt. One arm is over his eyes, and he’s snoring like a lumberjack.
Shaking my head, I look down at my damp underwear. I can’t wear them wet. Hanging them on the side of the nightstand, I hope they’ll dry somewhat before it’s time to go.
I do my best to dry off with the towel, but it’s like the material just pushes the water around on my skin. I’m still damp when I go to where I tossed my yellow dress on the bed.
Standing by the desk with my back to a sleeping Scout, I wave my arms trying to air dry a bit more before I put on my dress. JR’s shirt hangs from the back of the chair, and I hesitate, glancing toward the bathroom. The sound of water is still going strong, and Scout lets out another snore from behind me.
I trace my fingers along the thick, light-blue fabric. Placing the useless towel on the desk, I lift his shirt and slip my arms in the sleeves, pulling it over my naked body and studying myself in the mirror.
It’s too big for me. It stops at my upper thighs, and my small breasts are just covered by the rough fabric. My nipples tighten at the abrasion, and I lower my chin to inhale deeply.
I’m surrounded by his scent, masculine with hints of soap and citrusy deodorant. Closing my eyes, I imagine his large hands sliding up my thighs, squeezing my ass, spanning my waist. I imagine his lips at my ear, that rough voice telling me what he wants to do to me. My eyes squeeze and I picture two thick fingers slipping between my legs, touching my clit.
I imagine his beard scuffing my sensitive neck, moving around to my back, following the line of my shoulders. I imagine threading my fingers in his hair and kissing him hard…
My stomach is fizzy, my core hot and slippery, and I don’t realize the water has stopped until the bathroom door jerks open. “Are there any more towels?”
A column of light streams across the room, illuminating me naked, in