The rest of them turned and chuckled.
I shrank away from them, not wanting to be so close. But at the same time I couldn’t be too far away so as not to lose my place in line, which was getting longer by the second.
"What's wrong?" the drunken trucker slurred again, "am I too hot for ya?"
Then he reached over and grabbed my ass.
I shrieked and slapped him away, my heart suddenly pounding with fear. My attempt to drive him away only emboldened him, and he staggered towards me, his big hand closing around my forearm. The rest of the drivers laughed.
"I'd like to take you back into one of those little rooms they got here," he sneered, "or maybe take you into one of the showers, then get you out of those clothes."
"Stop it! If you don't let go of me, I'm going to scream," I said with terror in my voice.
"Let's just hear you try it," he growled, pulling me in close.
"Let go of her!" a voice rang out from behind me.
The crusty trucker looked over my shoulder, his eyes wide with surprise.
"I said, let go of her," the voice bellowed again. It was deep and strong, but without the roughness and gravel of an older man.
"What’re you goin’ to do about it, stranger?"
"I'll fuck you up, that's what!" Then the man stepped right between me and the trucker, pushing us apart. He stood only inches from my aggressor, his gaze level with his, even though the truck driver was twice as big as he was.
"Did you hear that?" the trucker chortled, turning to look at his compatriots, "this little runt is going to fuck me up." But when he turned back to the young man there was a hint of fear in his eyes--the man hadn't moved an inch.
"Hmph," the drunk grunted, pushing past my hero and rudely bumping his shoulder in the process. “I’ll be seeing you around, little girl,” he said wickedly to me with hate in his eyes as he stepped out of the line and walked away.
I almost collapsed with relief, and the handsome young man caught me before I toppled over.
"Whoa," he said, “easy there.”
I was surprised to find myself in a man's arms. When I looked up at him, finally registering his muscular features and sun-weathered skin, the scruffy blond hair poking out of the edges of his cowboy hat, I was speechless. My rescuer, whoever he was, was gorgeous. He looked to be only a few years older than I was, but he was already self-assured and rugged, older than his years.
And he reminded me of a lot of the boys back home, the ones who were going to take over their fathers’ ranches some day, who were used to working from sun-up to sun-down, who drove mud-splattered trucks and swaggered around with a can of Skoal in the back pocket of their Wranglers. It brought me back to another world.
My rescuer blushed a deep red before righting me and letting me go.
"You okay, ma'am?"
"I-yes, I'm fine. Thank you."
"I can't believe no one else did anything," he said while shaking his head sadly. He looked around at the clamor around us; no one had even noticed the incident.
"Thanks again," I said, my eyes roaming over his body quickly. He was muscular, but not heavy, and his clothes, a pair of tight Wrangler's and a well-worn button-up shirt, flattered his lean body.
A sheet of cold tingles washed over my body as I suddenly recalled the feel of his hard muscles pressing into me. I realized I was panting, and I tried to slow my breathing. But I was still electrified by the terror I'd felt earlier, and the sudden, overwhelming surge of attraction I faced only added to the confusing mix of emotions that were coursing through me.
This dusty young cowboy, whoever he was, was the most attractive man I'd ever met, and he'd just saved me from something awful, I had no doubt.
"Ma'am, are you sure you're all right?" he asked as we finally reached the counter of the cafe.
"I am, thank you." I knew I should have tried to think of something else to say, but I was still in fight-or-flight mode, and just calming myself down was enough of an effort.
My rescuer didn't seem like he was much for words either, and by the time we had ordered our food he still hadn't said a word.
"I better make sure you make it out of here okay," he finally said, as I turned to leave.
"Okay," I said, "I'm sorry."
"About what?" He sounded confused. I wasn't sure either, but it had been the first thing that popped into my mind. God I can be stupid sometimes. It didn’t help that he made me nervous—I always lost my tongue whenever I was around guys I was attracted to.
We pushed out of the dark, loud truck stop and back into the bright sunlight outside. He walked me to my truck, which happened to be right next to his big, blue Dodge Ram.
He tipped his hat and climbed in, and instantly I felt pressure to come up with something to say.
"Wait!" I blurted out in a panic. "What's your name?"
"Luke," he answered. He didn't ask for mine before he fired up the engine of his truck and sped off, leaving me there in the dusty parking lot, alone.
I couldn't help feeling terribly disappointed as I got back into my vehicle and drove off. Of course, I didn't know the first thing about him; least of all whether he had a girlfriend, or whatever. Stupid me: I was once again taking a random, meaningless encounter and building it up into something romantic in my head, because I always overthought everything. I'd done that so many times before.
But that feeling I'd felt between us: the tension and electricity in the air, was that all in my imagination?
It couldn't have been. Every time I walked into a crowded lecture hall or a party, I always hoped I'd find somebody, and I'd have that feeling.
I was looking so hard, and it never happened.
Of course, until today.
I sighed. And of course, the one time I actually did meet someone, I totally blew it.
You didn't blow it, I told myself. He didn't even want to talk to you.Maybe he was just shy, I consoled myself. But probably not. Most of the boys back home had been macho blowhards, like their fathers, not stereotypical quiet cowboys, like the kind one sees in Hollywood movies.
My phone spoke to me in its weird, robotic female voice, telling me to turn off the freeway and onto a heavily wooded, county dirt road.
I was getting close to my stepfather’s ranch, but I was too preoccupied to care. I kept thinking about Luke.
A big tractor-trailer roared past carrying a load of logs, and I pulled the truck way to the side to let it pass, almost ending up in the ditch.
But it barely pulled me out of my thoughts. All I could do was think about Luke and my failures. Finally the violent blast of a semi horn startled me out of my reverie for good.
I had just turned a blind corner, and suddenly I was face-to-face with another log truck speeding my way; there was nowhere near enough space on the road for both of us.
Time seemed to come to a stop as it hurtled closer and closer, and I could see the surprised expression on the driver's face as he stepped on the brake.
There was now way either of us could stop in time, and at the last second I steered the truck into the ditch.
I wasn't going very fast when I hit the embankment, thank God there weren’t any trees in my path and I didn't roll over. The semi roared past with just inches to spare, creating a dust storm all around.
The semi finally rumbled to a halt behind me, and I pushed open the door, my heart pounding in my throat for the second time that day and my body shaking with adrenaline. I stepped out onto the dusty dirt road and fought the urge to vomit. I watched as the truck driver ran towards me.
"Jesus Christ," he gasped, "are you alright?"
"Yeah..." I said, fighting nausea. I reached out and grabbed his arm, steadying myself as I resisted the urge to retch.