Jewell (Biker Bitches 7)

“How’s it going?”

His friendly greeting had the trucker glancing at him.

“It’s going,” the trucker replied with snark.

Rory kept his friendly attitude despite the dour response. “Tough day?” he sympathized.

“What do you fucking think? If the weather isn’t being a bitch, my old lady keeps texting me ask when I’m coming home.”

“Damn, that sucks. You could always tell her you left your phone at the truck stop,” he jokingly advised.

The trucker seemed to give the excuse serious consideration.

“Where you heading?”

“Tucson. Then I have to pick up another load in Nevada before going home to Georgia.”

“Long trip.” Rory finished boxing the hotdogs in their paper tray to pick them up.

“Not long enough.”

The trucker, who seemed to be in his thirties, was sporting a long beard that was the same color as his long, blondish-black hair. Two earplugs surrounded a seriously aggressive expression that didn’t keep Rory from stating his opinion. “Then I would think about either getting another job or a different old lady. Have a safe trip.”

Picking up his armful of goodies, Rory made a beeline for the checkout. Paying, he nodded at Jewell, who was pretending to look at the cold drink section before he went out the door.

Juggling his purchases, he walked toward the truck. Fortunately, there were no other truckers refueling. He moved behind the truck, and with a quick flip of his hand, Rory dropped the air tag behind the license plate.

Continuing to walk to the end of the parking area, he got inside his SUV to wait for Jewell.

Coming out of the store at the same time as the trucker, Jewell was still talking as she walked to where he was sitting. She got inside while the trucker moved to his side of the door.

Rolling the window down, Rory could see the trucker was in a better mood than he had been in the store.

“Wasn’t going to take your advice”—pearly white teeth showed through the massive beard—“but any dude that can nab her is someone I’m going to listen to.”

Rory quirked an eyebrow in Jewell’s direction. “She said she’s mine?”

“Wouldn’t give me her number because of you.”

Rory didn’t have the right to take offense at the way the trucker was staring at him as if wondering what Jewell could see in him.

“Yeah, she’s definitely a keeper.”

“She definitely wouldn’t be sitting at home for me. She’d be riding shotgun everywhere I went.”

Rory managed to keep a straight face at the way Jewell was glaring at them.

“There’s a lot to say about women who keep the home fires burning. Any chick can ride at your side; it’s the ones who have a hot meal waiting and makes you anxious to get back to your bed who are the keepers,” he disagreed, feeling sorry for the woman who was sitting at home, waiting for the trucker.

“The only thing Savannah is good for is keeping my dogs fed. She would starve to death if not for frozen meals and takeout.”

The trucker’s woman didn’t give him much to work with, Rory concluded.

“Well, good luck with that.”

Starting the motor as a way to bring an end to the conversation, he started to roll up the window.

“You get tired of playing shotgun for him, give me a call,” the trucker told Jewell, taking a step back so he wouldn’t get run over. “Name’s Rogue. I can be reached at—

Rory finished rolling up the window before the trucker could finish.

Jewell snickered, giving a wave as they drove off.

“I almost feel sorry for the two-timer.”

“Is it really cheating if he didn’t get your number?”

“Yes. The thought is what counts.”

“This is coming from the woman who was going to kiss Reaper silly?” He felt bad as soon as the words left his mouth.

“I didn’t.” Her fiery glare intensified.

Rory felt the heat coming his way and started to diffuse the situation. They had a long drive ahead of them, which he hoped would soothe her frayed temper. He didn’t hold out much hope. Everything he said and did seemed to infuriate her.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean it the way it came out.”

Jewell crossed her arms over her chest. “Then how did you mean it?”

“Look, I was being a jerk. I got jealous he was so into you, and I took it out on you.”

Her jaw dropped at his confession before she jerked her head forward to stare at the road. The car became quiet.

“No comment?” He wasn’t going to let her off so easily.

“I don’t have anything to say, other than I only fuck Last Riders; which you aren’t.”

“Doesn’t that limit your pool?”

“Which goes to show how clueless you are. Most of The Last Riders are visiting their families, and the main club in Ohio has hundreds.”

“So, you’ve been a busy girl,” he drawled out.

If he were a potato, he would be cooked at the glare she shot him.