Silver James - Billionaire Country

Grabbing her duffel, Zoe schlepped back toward the store portion of the truck stop. She had just enough cash to grab something cold to drink and maybe a sandwich. She’d locate Tucker and then they could hit the road again. She reached the back door but hesitated to open it, opting instead to peer through the glass. She froze. Two Smithee cousins stood in the checkout line. Could Etta Smithee be far behind?

She ducked away from the door. Pressing her back against the sun-warmed concrete wall, Zoe breathed through the panic. She couldn’t go inside to grab Tucker. What to do? What to do? Think, think, think. She needed her guitar. Which was locked in the trunk of Tucker’s car. She shifted just enough to peek through the glass door. The cousins were still there but there was no sign of Tucker.

Edging along the wall to the corner of the building, Zoe checked the busy parking lot. Tucker had parked away from everyone else. That was a good thing. The T-Bird couldn’t be seen from inside the store. She located a rust-bucket pickup she’d seen parked at the church. The truck was empty. The minute those two saw her, the jig would be up, but if Tucker would come out, they could escape unnoticed. She was running out of time and options. Fast.

Zoe glanced at the big semis idling in the truck lot. Maybe she could hitch a ride. But that meant leaving her guitar behind. And Tucker. Leaving him behind didn’t seem like much of a solution. Which was dumb because that man owed her nothing and would probably turn her over to Etta and Norbert just on principle. Too bad he was so pretty. And manly. And made her think of things no woman within a month or so of giving birth should be considering.

But Zoe didn’t truly believe Tucker would hand her over to the Smithees. That meant she had only one option. Wait for Tucker. Sneaking over to the T-Bird without looking like she was skulking through the parking lot wasn’t all that easy. Worried other Smithees might be around, she ducked down on the driver’s side of the classic car. Too bad it was so low-slung. Sexy, yes, but dang hard to hide behind.

“C’mon,” she murmured, sending vibes winging toward Tucker—not that she believed in any of that woo-woo stuff. But five minutes later, her headache-inducing concentration worked. Tucker, holding a plastic bag, stepped out of the store and looked toward where he’d parked the T-Bird. Zoe watched his brow knit as he glanced back inside. That was her cue. She popped her head up, put two fingers in her mouth and issued a piercing whistle. His head jerked back toward her and she waved him over, her arm flailing, as she climbed in.

As he walked up to the passenger door—the side of the car nearest the store, she pleaded, “I need the keys.” She gripped the steering wheel with white-knuckled strength so Tucker wouldn’t see how badly her hands shook. When he didn’t respond fast enough, she added, “Get in. Please! We have to move fast.”

He stared at her very pregnant belly crammed against the steering wheel and raised a brow. Okay, he might have a point as she tended to waddle when on foot, but she was driving, and they had a need for speed.

“How can you—”

“C’mon, rich boy. We gotta go and go now!”

The doors behind him opened and shouts echoed over the growls of idling diesel engines. Tucker glanced around, saw two men bearing down on them. He tossed the keys to Zoe and she managed to get the right one inserted into the ignition as Tucker vaulted into the passenger seat. Zoe floored the accelerator before he got settled. Thank goodness Tucker had backed into the parking space.

The men lumbered after them but gave up within a few yards, turned and trotted to their truck as Zoe watched through the rearview mirror.

“Pull over,” Tucker ordered.

“Not until we lose them.” She was adamant.

“Who are those guys?”

“They woulda been my in-laws, if I hadn’t run like hell.” She pressed back against the seat and fought the car around a tight curve, refusing to slow down. “Well, sort of. They’re Norbert’s cousins. Won’t be long until Etta and him will be on our trail.”

Tucker reached over, placing a hand over hers on the steering wheel. “I won’t let them hurt you.”

Her eyes filled with tears that she blamed on the wind, since she’d forgotten her sunglasses again. And she ignored the twinge in her chest where her heart beat in loud thumps. Tucker was just a nice man helping out a stranded woman in trouble. That’s all. Nothing more. But no man had ever said those words to her and meant them. She didn’t have to swipe at the tear on her cheek. Tucker did it for her with a gentle fingertip.

“We got this, sweetheart.” He rummaged in her duffel and pulled out her sunglasses. Then he reached into his plastic bag. He gave her a wink and a grin. “Wouldn’t be a road trip without junk food.”

Three

Tucker let Zoe drive as she seemed to have some clue about their location. She didn’t pop the clutch when she shifted gears, instinctively braked before hitting the curves, then powered through them by accelerating. The day was sunny, not too warm, and her not-quite-in-laws were way behind them. Besides, by not driving, he could study his runaway bride.

Zoe was pretty, though not in the beauty queen sense. Her eyes, hidden now behind big sunglasses, were a deep chocolate brown. Her chin was too long, her mouth too wide but not full and her nose tipped up on the end. Her long, dark brown hair fell in twisty—and hair-sprayed—curls down over her cleavage. There was just something wrong with him for thinking about her in any sort of sexual way, but he couldn’t help himself. She wasn’t the sort of woman he normally would be attracted to, yet he was. She exuded a sweet vulnerability that called to him.

Her accent was thick enough—and country enough—he could cut it with a knife. He had a Harvard MBA and remembered all too acutely the disdain he’d received there for his Okie accent. He’d worked hard to smooth out the rough edges. But Zoe? Her language was colorful and brash, and whenever she opened her mouth, the lyrics to a country song spilled out. Maybe that was why she fascinated him. Tucker continued to study her.

She had long, supple fingers—and didn’t the idea of them gripping him like she had them wrapped around the steering wheel make him shift in his seat. They ended with short nails covered in chipped red polish. Her arms looked toned and he wondered what her figure was like before the pregnancy. He jerked his thoughts away from jumping down that rabbit hole.

She drove with a carefree abandon and a determined focus. She was a free spirit, not ready to settle in one place. Except she’d decided to keep the child of a man she claimed was a one-night stand she didn’t wish to marry. Zoe was a paradox and his curiosity might just kill his cat. Good thing he didn’t own one.

“You’re staring.”

“Yup.”

“I need to pee again.”

“Okay.”

She cut her eyes his direction. “I’ll be stoppin’ at the next place we come to. You can drive after that.”

“Gee, thanks,” he said dryly. “Considering it’s my car.” He flashed her a mock glower and added, “Though I’ll admit you’re not a bad driver.”

She made a pfft sound before she laughed. And, man, did her laughter arrow straight into his core. “Honey, I learned to drive when I was ten so I could borrow the neighbor’s car. My daddy couldn’t drive so I’d take us down to the local dive where I could play for my supper and his drinks.”

This woman fascinated Tucker. And he worried about that, just a little. She was raw and...real. She said what she thought with no filters, and no matter how horrified he might be, he still found himself enjoying her company. In the back of his mind, though, resided that little voice of doubt. Was she telling a tall tale, or was this the truth of her life? He understood that not everyone had the ’50s sitcom life he and his brothers had grown up with—a strong mother, a doting father, hard work but lots and lots of love, and parents who gave their boys the freedom to fly when they left the nest. All but his baby brother, Dillon. But that was okay. Between him and Deacon, they were keeping him in line.