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  Claimed by the Trucker

  Copyright ©2019 Izzy Slam

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This book is a work of fiction intended for mature readers. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  All characters depicted in this story are fictional, not blood related, and are consenting adults over the age of 18 years.

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  Description

  ~Kara

  When you wake up in a seedy motel room and realize your own father left you to pursue a life of drinking and god knows what else, you don’t hold out much hope for anything good.

  But I’ve always been a survivor, and this will be no different.

  I’ve got a little bit of cash, my “innocent” good looks, and hopefully a sprinkling of charm.

  Surely someone will take a chance on me and give me a job so I can enjoy some stability for once in my life.

  Otherwise, I’ll remain eighteen and homeless.

  Forever…

  ~Axel

  I’m just doing a favor for my brother who owns a trucking company. I’m a man on a mission, with a deadline and a one-track mind.

  But after being stuck on the road for days on end, I am definitely ready for a sexy distraction. And the last thing I expect to find is a sweet, beautiful blond near tears as she begs for work.

  I don’t need the drama or the trouble. But this gorgeous girl looks like she needs a strong man in her life, someone who will take her in and treat her right.

  Besides, how can I walk away from something so innocent and fragile?

  Especially when what I really want to do is claim her as mine…

  Kara

  The moment I wake up, I just know.

  The ache, the loneliness, and the hopelessness I felt yesterday has doubled.

  Maybe it’s the silence within this dark motel room that lets me know …

  … he’s gone.

  I sit up in bed and stretch before reaching over and switching on the lamp.

  I glance at the bed next to me, the sheets tossed about, crumpled, and empty.

  I flick my gaze towards the bathroom, but the light is off, and the door is open, so I know my dad isn’t here.

  He’s probably in the lobby grabbing something to eat. As shitty as this motel is, at least they have a free continental style breakfast, which basically consists of week-old pastries from the diner across the street, stale cereal, and coffee. They don’t provide milk, but at least they give us something.

  After kicking my sheets aside, I shuffle to the bathroom to pee and brush my teeth, stepping over half a dozen empty beer cans along the way.

  Jesus. I’m glad I fell asleep before my dad got hammered last night. When he’s drunk, he’s impossible to deal with.

  I come out of the bathroom and pull on a t-shirt and a pair of jean shorts then step into my flipflops before grabbing my elastic from the dresser to pull my hair up. And that’s when I see the folded piece of paper with my name across the front.

  My heart feels like it drops all the way to my feet as I open it up and read it the words my dad wrote:

  Sorry, sweetheart. I just can’t do this anymore. I told you I wasn’t cut out to be a dad, and Lord knows you’re better off without me. I don’t wanna keep dragging you down into my hell. This is no place for an eighteen-year-old beauty like you.

  Get out of this shithole town and just forget about me. Maybe you can get a job and make something of yourself unlike I’ve been able to do.

  I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me someday too. But I ain’t holding my breath…

  Dad

  Tears scorch my eyes as I read it several times over. I can’t say that I’m surprised, though. My dad’s drinking cost him his job several months ago, and most recently, our home.

  We’ve been in this motel for seven days—ever since being evicted from our apartment. Dad promised me he’d find another job and get us a nice place, but he’s done nothing but drink since we got here.

  And I’ve already applied to the few places that are hiring in order to get us out of this hole.

  But no one has called me back.

  I carry the note to the bed and fall down, taking a few deep breaths as I struggle to get my bearings. Dad got a weekly rate on the room, and today marks the seventh day. Which means I need to be out of here by ten o’clock.

  That’s one hour away.

  I don’t have any fucking time to spare. So I grab my few belongings from the dresser and shove them inside my duffel bag before heading to the lobby to stock up on as much food as I can get away with.

  I have no idea where I’ll go, what I’ll do. I’ve always been excruciatingly shy, so I’ve not maintained any friendships since graduating high school last month. Not that I had any to begin with. Being book smart and a straight-A student, I was always the nerd. The weird, shy girl nobody wanted to hang out with.

  My mom died when I was seven from a drug overdose, and my dad’s family wrote him off years ago for obvious reasons. I wouldn’t know who to call even if I thought someone might help me out.

  But I do have almost a hundred dollars tucked away—small amounts of cash I’ve saved up over the years, so I guess I could rent this room for another week while I job hunt. I’m going to need a roof over my head.

  Trying my damnedest to keep a positive attitude, I grab my things and make my way to the office, hoping for the best.

  Before speaking with the receptionist, I grab a few croissants and a cup of coffee, scarfing them down while browsing a newspaper someone left behind. There are a few jobs listed in the want ads, one of which is a cashier position at the truck stop across the street. Perfect location if I’m staying here. The ad doesn’t say “experience required,” so it’s worth looking into.

  After eating, I approach the receptionist, her expression flat.

  “Can I help you?”

  “I hope so. My dad and I have been staying in room 113. I actually need it for another week. But it’s just me now. He’s … gone.”

  “Let me see if it’s available,” she mumbles, slamming her fingers on the keyboard while sucking her teeth with her tongue. “Looks like you’re in luck. You paying cash or card?”

  With a sigh of relief, I pull my bag off my shoulder. “Cash, and thank you.”

  “No prob. It’s one-forty-nine, and I’ll just need you to sign these forms here.”

  “Wait, how much?”

  “One forty-nine,” she repeats, enunciating the words with a little snark.

  “Okay, I’m pretty sure my dad paid half that.” He did, he had told me that it was only seventy and some change.

  “That was a special rate.” The woman stares at me and blinks, and it all suddenly becomes clear.

  He did something special to get that special rate. God, I feel sick.

  “Can you cut me some slack, please, ma’am? I’ve only got a hundred bucks, and I’m looking for work.”

  She rolls her eyes. “You and half the town, sweetie. One forty-nine, firm. Or thirty-five for the night. I don’t make the rules, nor do I determine the prices. You got a problem with it, you take it up with the manager.”

  Dread courses through my veins as I leave without saying a word.


  With a prayer on my lips, I walk across the street, trying to force a smile on my face while hoping a smile is all it will take to get the job.

  Axel

  I park the rig before heading into the truck stop to get a bite to eat. After being on the road since five a.m., I’m desperate for some caffeine and grub.

  As I cross the parking lot, I can’t help but notice that the place seems awfully quiet right now. In fact, this whole town seems quiet. Maybe it’s just me. Maybe I need noise and stimulation to get me through this trip.

  A trip I’m having second thoughts about agreeing to.

  My brother called a few days ago and asked if I’d be willing to haul all this wine to the east coast. One of his drivers quit with no notice and he was going to have to make the journey himself if I had said no—something his wife wouldn’t have appreciated seeing as they just had a baby. And since I work as a mechanic for his company, it wasn’t like I had to clear the time off with my boss.

  He said he’d pay double, so I jumped on the opportunity. But now, I’m so fucking exhausted and sore I can hardly see straight. I know once I get back home I’ll feel differently. I’ll be glad I helped him out. But for now, I just want this trip to be over with.

  After snatching up a premade sandwich and some chips, I pick out my favorite energy drink and head to the register where I spot a girl sliding a sheet of paper across the counter.

  “I can work any days, any hours, and I’m happy to start out at minimum wage.”

  The woman at the register gives the application a quick glance as I stand back, leaving them plenty of room.

  The girl applying for the position seems a little desperate. With a duffel bag on her shoulders, she pulls her long blond hair over to one side and nervously rocks on her feet.

  “Sorry, hun, but we’re looking for someone with experience. Is this your first job?”

  “Yes,” she replies, leaning forward on the counter. “But only because I was taking care of a sick family member.” The cashier flicks her eyes up for a second before turning the application over. “I graduated with straight A’s. I’m a quick learner, reliable, strong, and trustworthy. You won’t regret giving me a chance.”

  “Like I said, I can’t. The owner specifically stated experienced only. I’ve already got three other applications back here from experienced people. I really wish I could help you, but...”

  “Thanks anyway,” she mumbles.

  Her shoulders slump as she turns around, nearly bumping into me as she brushes past. But as her eyes meet mine—gorgeous, crystal blue irises that nearly knock the breath out of me—I can’t help but notice how sad, how hopeless she looks.

  I watch her walk out the door, feeling this sudden and intense need to stop her. Damn, there’s something about this blond beauty that grabs me right in the chest.

  Fuck.

  “Can I help you, sir?” the cashier asks.

  Flustered, I spin around and approach the counter, setting down my food before returning my attention to the girl. I hear the beeping of the register as the woman checks me out, and I notice that my Sad-Eyed Girl has settled down on the picnic table outside.

  Momentarily relieved, I pull some cash out of my wallet and pay for my things before heading out the door. She’s hunched over a newspaper, running a finger down a column of want ads. Her golden skin glows in the warm sun, and I want to touch her to see if she’s as soft as she looks.

  “Looking for work, huh?”

  She cranes her head up to look at me, shielding the sun with her hand as she drags her eyes over my body.

  “Yes. You know anyone who’s hiring?”

  I sit across from her and catch a whiff of some perfume, soft and floral. “Maybe. But it might require some traveling.”

  I smile at her, hoping to see her smile back, but she holds my stare. Shit, she thinks I’m serious.

  Hell, maybe I am.

  “That … actually sounds perfect. What sort of job is it?”

  Well, fuck. I wasn’t expecting that. “It’s pretty easy. Just keep me awake while I’m driving.” I toss my thumb over my shoulder, and her gaze goes right to my rig.

  She does this half eye-roll thing, then goes back to reading the want ads. “I thought you were serious.”

  My heart drops at the sound of disappointment in her voice. “I was serious. My name’s Axel Davis.” I reach my hand out, and surprising, she takes it, her skin softer than I imagined.”

  “Hi, Axel. I’m Kara Whisnett.”

  She still seems to be sizing me up. Seeing as I’m as big as a bear and decorated with tattoos, I can’t exactly say I blame her.

  “Nice to meet you, Kara. Truth is, I’m hauling an ungodly amount of wine to Virginia, and I’m bored out of my fucking mind. I could use the company, and I really need someone to keep me awake.”

  I can’t believe I’m doing this, honestly. I have no idea who this chick is, how old she is—though she did mention graduating with straight A’s, so she must be at least eighteen—and I’ve no fucking clue if she has deep roots in this town.

  And technically, we’re not supposed to allow anyone inside our trucks. Not that my brother would mind, especially since I’m doing him a favor. Not the other way around.

  Kara sucks her lips inside her mouth, tucking some loose hair behind her ears as the wind picks up. “I don’t know you. Why in the world would I get inside of a truck with a stranger and ride halfway across the country?”

  “Good question,” I answer with a shrug. “I can assure you I’m perfectly harmless. Never been arrested, although I did almost do time for a pile of speeding tickets I neglected to pay a few years back.” That confession gets a half smile. “I have a steady job, and my manners are pretty good most of the time. I’ll feed you, make sure you get plenty of rest, and I’ll have you back here within the week, and all with a little extra cash in your pocket, bonuses if you can make me laugh.”

  Now I get to hear her giggle, and it makes my dick semi hard. Fuck, I’ll pay her extra just to hear her laugh.

  “You said you’ll bring me back here within the week?”

  “Yes, ma’am. In one piece, too. As long as you’re at least eighteen. You are eighteen, right? Because I won’t be taking minors anywhere in my rig.”

  “Eighteen and a half, to be precise.”

  I jokingly wipe my forehead with the back of my hand, and her mouth lifts into a smile.

  She then lets her eyes travel down my tattooed arm before coming back up to meet my stare.

  “Okay. I’ll do it.”

  Kara

  This isn’t the smartest thing I’ve ever done, hopping into vehicle with a truck driver. I seem to recall an old horror flick that starts out in a similar way.

  No, I need to keep my imagination in check. Besides, it’s not like I have a whole lot of options here. I have to believe this guy is being honest with me. It probably is tough staying awake on the road. It’s also reassuring that he bothered to ask my age. I mean, if he were a serial killer, I doubt he would care if I was a legal adult.

  As we merge onto the highway, I’m actually rather surprised at how comfortable the ride is. My dad and I never went anywhere, except when we bounced from apartment to apartment. I suddenly think of him and wonder where he is, what he’s doing. Probably getting drunk.

  I look at Axel out of the corner of my eye as he merges onto the highway. I have to admit, he’s hot as hell. Tall with muscles on top of muscles, a few tattoos and a full but neat beard. He makes me feel funny inside in a way that no one ever has.

  He gave me a quick tour of his truck before we took off, and I’m surprised at how spacious it is. There’s a bed in the back with a separate bunk on top where I’ll be sleeping. And there’s a fridge, a microwave, a small television, and an area to cook with a portable mini stove.

  “How long have you been doing this?”

  “You mean driving trucks?”

  “No. Picking up girls at truck stops.”

 
I don’t know where the smartass joke comes from. I’m normally awkward as can be around strangers, but for some reason, Axel makes me feel at ease.

  And when he bursts into laughter that sounds deep and rumbly and oh-so-sexy, warm butterflies ripple through me, settling between my legs.

  “I’ve never picked up anyone at a truck stop, if you must know. Never had a stranger in my car, either. So, you’re the first.” He shoots me a quick look. “As far as this,” he continues, waving his hand in the air, “Technically, I’ve only been doing it for a few days. My brother owns the trucking company, and I work as a mechanic for him. I got my CDL license about five years ago, but I never intended to do anything other than fix the rigs, not drive them.”

  “Five years ago? How old are you, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  “I don’t mind at all. I just turned thirty last month.”

  I nod. Thirty isn’t so bad. I mean, not that we’re anything but friends. Or are we boss and employee?

  “And as a mechanic you have to make occasional road trips?”

  “Not usually, but one of his drivers quit, and this winery is one of his biggest clients. He’d have been in a bind if I refused to make the haul.”

  I can’t help but think of the irony that my father and I lost everything due to his drinking, and I’m now surrounded by thousands of dollars-worth of alcohol. Hell, more like hundreds of thousands.

  “What about you?” he asks.

  “What about me?”

  “How long have you been looking for work?”

  My gut twists in on itself. “Off and on for a few months. Competition is tough, though. My hometown has the highest unemployment rate in the state. My dad’s been—”

  I stop myself before finishing the story, wondering how much he really wants to hear.

  “Your dad’s been what? Is he the sick family member?” he asks, his voice low yet full of concern.

  “Not exactly. That was sort of a little white lie. My dad … he’s been looking for work, too. For several months.” I turn my head to look out the window because I can feel the tears threatening to fall. Each mile we drive pushes me further and further away from him, but I’m still mad at him, so I don’t know how much I care that the miles between us will keep stretching.