Make You Mine by K.T. Quinn

11

Charlotte

It was nice to be able to take my time the next morning without being in a rush. I let the hot water wake me up as I washed my hair and let it dry. And the best part about waking up early? I had time to put on socks and sneakers. The blood blisters on my feet weren’t going to get any worse.

My phone buzzed in my pocket.

Unknown: Don’t be late this time

It must have been Mindy. I frowned at the screen before composing a response.

Charlotte: I’m literally walking out the door right now. You won’t be docking me an hour today!

Unknown: Ain’t up to me, Peaches

I felt a tingle of excitement when I realized it was Jayce. The dream from the previous night was still fresh in my head, when he went down on me in my motel room. Getting a text from him made it seem just a little bit more real.

It was just a dream, I thought as I hurried out the door.

The walk into town was refreshing at this time of morning. Everything was calm, and mist hung in the air above the fields I passed. Only a few birds were awake, and the cicada-like sound of the Georgia insects was a dim background noise. The walk got my blood flowing while I appreciated the sunrise spreading orange and red above the trees.

I never got a chance to relax like this in Savannah. Every hour of the day went into the business. I woke up early to buy the freshest supplies the moment the market opened, then packed and prepared them for the day. I had to research the best route for the food truck, planning out all the stops we wanted to hit. The areas with the most foot traffic that we wanted to get to early to stake our spot. Then came the actual work on the truck when we opened for lunch.

Late hours were the busiest for us. We made the most money sitting outside bars deep into the night, feeding burgers to drunk people. Then, whenever the stream of customers slowed, we had to pack up the remains and give the truck a thorough cleaning. I was usually back in bed by midnight, and then up again before the sun rose to do it all over again.

That made for a long day. Fulfilling, but still long. And without much time to stop and breathe.

I took a deep breath, filling my lungs with the cool morning air. Momma would have been proud of me for finding the silver lining in all this. Even if it only lasted until I got to town.

The walk also gave me ample time to think about the dream. It could be explained away by the six-pack of beer. I couldn’t exactly control what I dreamed about. It didn’t work that way. But the dream was so real. It had left me feeling differently about Jayce the next morning. Like it had actually happened.

Just thinking of his name stirred something inside me. Jayce. He wasn’t the type of guy I normally went for. Scott was prissy and preppy, with a clean-shaven face and thick glasses. Heck, he even wore a button-down underneath his apron while working on the food truck. The thought of him growing a beard or riding a motorcycle was too ridiculous to entertain. Like imagining a golden retriever cooking burgers.

But even though Jayce wasn’t who I normally found myself attracted to, he was sexy. Undeniably so. And the way he smiled at me, like he was covering up the thoughts he didn’t want to say out loud…

I shivered. Get a hold of yourself, Charlotte. Today would hopefully be my last day in Eastland. The last thing I needed was to develop a big old crush for one of the local guys.

I walked into town with enough time to stop by the diner and grab coffee. When Jayce pulled up in his truck at two minutes to eight, I was sitting on the bench outside the community center sipping on my drink and feeling good about myself.

He leaned out the open window. “Mornin’, Peaches,” he said in his easy drawl.

I had always thought guys with man-buns looked stupid. I preferred my men to be clean-cut with short hair. But maybe that was because I had never met someone like Jayce. His dark hair was pulled back in a tight knot, except for a few sun-bleached strands that had fallen across his face. His crystal blue eyes were piercing in the early-morning sun.

He looks even sexier than he did in my dream.

“Good morning!” I said cheerfully as I handed him a paper cup through the window. “Not only am I not late, I was early. I don’t know how you take your coffee, so I stirred in a little bit of cream and sugar.”

“Awfully nice of you.” He took a sip and winced. “A little bit of cream and sugar?”

“Yeah, sorry. I like mine so sugary it’s practically chocolate milk.” I climbed in the passenger seat. “How’d you get my number?”

“Mindy.”

It felt like a silly question once it had been asked and answered. Where else would he have gotten it? “Speaking of Mindy, where is she?”

“Busy at the diner. Said to clock ourselves in and out from now on, so long as she can trust us.” He shifted the truck into drive and then nodded down at the floor. “Nice shoes.”

I wiggled my feet. “Nicer than heels, that’s for sure.”

He smiled, which wrinkled the corners of his piercing-blue eyes.

Today we were cleaning the other side of the road. It was much, much easier work with proper shoes. I could actually focus on collecting trash rather than trying not to trip and fall.

“You’re getting the hang of this,” Jayce said after an hour.

“High praise,” I joked. “I can pick up trash like a pro. Maybe I ought to make a career out of it.”

Jayce picked up a plastic straw, tossed it in his bag, and then pointed at me with his stick. “I noticed you’re not limping. Guess your ankle’s better.”

“And I noticed that you’re not wincing every time you take a deep breath. Guess you don’t have any cracked ribs?”

“Nope.”

His answer didn’t sate my curiosity.

“Was it a bar fight that landed you in jail the other night?” I’d given it some thought while trying to fall asleep last night. Sure, it was the stereotypical thing to assume a guy like Jayce got into a bar fight, but it would explain both why he was in jail, and why he was licking his wounds.

“Nope,” was all he said again.

I watched him for a few steps. I thought he was telling the truth. Whatever reason he was out here, it wasn’t for a brawl at Flop’s.

“Motorcycle crash?” I tried.

“Wrong again. Any other questions, or is this interrogation over?”

“What does your tattoo mean?” I pointed at his arm. Three vibrant orchids were tattooed on his bicep, above the number 3194. On the other side of the flowers was the number 8233. “Got a thing for orchids?”

“How about I ask a question before answering any more of yours,” he said.

“If you’re afraid of explaining why you like orchids, then sure. Ask away.”

Jayce ignored the dig. “Where were you going in such a hurry when the sheriff pulled you over?”

“I wasn’t speeding,” I replied. “And I was heading home. My parents live in a little town south of Atlanta.”

“Just going home to visit?”

I hesitated before saying, “Uh huh.”

He stabbed a Styrofoam cup, then scraped it into his bag. “With three suitcases in your back seat?”

I shot him a look. “How’d you know what was in my car?”

“Small town. Word travels fast.” He pointed his stick at me again. “Plus, the folks in Eastland get mighty itchy when they see someone transporting a bunch of stuff through town.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothin’,” he said absently. “Were you moving back home, or what?”

“Sorta, kinda.”

He frowned while stepping over a pothole. With his bronze skin and the way he held his stick, he looked like an ancient Greek warrior holding a spear. “How does one sorta kinda move back home?”

“Well…” I hesitated, then found a spurt of courage. “I kind of broke up with my boyfriend.”

The words hung in the crisp morning air. Saying it out loud made it real. It was the first time I’d said the words, those exact words, to someone else. It hurt a little, but it felt good, too. Like I was untying a knot in my soul.

Jayce frowned at me again. “How does one kinda break up with their boyfriend?”

“I’ve been wondering the same thing these past few days,” I grumbled. “It’s complicated.”

“I doubt it.”

“You think you know more about my failed relationship than I do?”

He shrugged, and picked up a few pieces of trash in silence. Ambling along the road without looking at me before finally speaking up. “Everyone always says their break-ups are complicated. In my experience, that’s bullshit. Either you grow apart, or you were never really compatible to begin with, or someone cheats. Ninety percent of all breakups are because of one of those reasons.”

He stabbed a can of Pepsi and then stopped walking so he could look at me. Waiting for a real answer.

“He was seeing someone else,” I admitted.

“Prick.”

“Someone named Tammy.”

“Every Tammy I’ve ever known is a fucking skank,” he replied.

“That’s what I said!” I stabbed my stick into the dirt and stretched my back. “I saw one of his texts. That’s how I found out. We were at a business dinner, and I just got up and left. Packed my stuff and started driving. Never even said goodbye.”

“That answers my question about the high heels and skirt you were wearing when you strutted into jail.” He shook his head. “That fucking sucks, Peaches.”

I gave him a weak smile. It felt good to have someone just listen. Not trying to offer advice, or tell me what I should have done, or going on about all the other fish in the sea. Just that fucking sucks.

Sometimes that’s all a girl wanted to hear.

“And that,” Jayce said while wiping his brow, “is a good time to stop for lunch.”

Lunch. “Crap. Crap! I knew I forgot to do something.”

He stared at me like I was joking. “You had time to stop for coffee this morning, but not enough time to pack a lunch? Peaches, your priorities are all out of whack.”

I groaned and leaned against the car. “Eastland doesn’t have UberEats, does it? Or a restaurant that delivers?”

Jayce grunted like it was a joke. He fished around in his cooler, then tossed me a Ziploc bag. “Here ya go.”

I held the sandwich in my hands. “I can’t take your lunch.”

But he pulled a second bag out of his cooler. “I accidentally packed two today.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “How does one accidentally make two sandwiches?”

He pulled down the truck’s tailgate and sat on the edge. “If you don’t want it, toss it back in the cooler.”

I joined him on the tailgate. “Thank you.”

“Thanks for the coffee this morning.”

I bit into the sandwich. “Peanut butter and jelly?”

“Just like mom used to make.” He looked sideways at me. “Got a problem with that?”

“Nope. It’s good.”

It was good, especially to a hungry girl who’d spent the morning picking up trash. I ate slowly, savoring the break in the work. When my sandwich was half empty Jayce pulled out a can of coke and handed it to me.

“Eleven hours down,” I said after a long drink. “A hundred and nine to go.”

“One hundred and twenty hours,” he mused with a shake of his head. The sun-bleached strands of his hair swayed back and forth across his face until he brushed them back. “Three weeks worth. You gonna stick around town the whole time? Atlanta’s a long way off.”

“We’ll see,” I replied. “I’m hoping today will be my last day.”

He gave me a pitying look. “If you think the judge is gonna come down here and reduce your sentence out of the kindness of his heart, then you’re a bigger fool than I thought, Peaches.”

“My dad’s a small-town sheriff,” I said. “Might be able to pull some strings with the sheriff, or Judge Benjamin.”

Jayce laughed and shook his head.

“You don’t believe me?”

“I believe you think that might happen.” He took the Coke can from me, drank a long sip, and handed it back. “Look. I’m gonna tell you somethin’ you need to hear. The sheriff has no power in this town. Neither does the judge. The only man who runs this town is named Sid, and he has an army of bikers at his back.”

“That biker gang I’ve seen?” I asked. “Mindy told me. Is everyone in this little town really scared of them?”

“The Copperheads are a lot more than a biker gang,” he said. There was sadness in his voice, and experience. “The way they operate…”

He paused with a bite of sandwich in his mouth, mid-chew.

“What?” I asked. “How do they operate?”

“Fuck.” He swallowed his bite and tossed the rest of the sandwich on the bed of the truck. “Hear that rumbling? You’re about to find out, because that’s Sid coming this way.”