4 Stars Goodreads Reader Review
"A very cute book; had you going what is going to happen next and OMG, no she didn't do that. The trucker was a delish. Love it."
Synopsis:
Widow Veronica Torres needs something desperately—invisibility. Escaping the clutches of her conniving brother-in-law and traveling incognito in the RV she traded for online sets her on a collision course with her new destiny, and a barreling fiery-red 18-wheeler.
Trucker Mike Masterson steams at the close call. First, he nearly sideswipes her. Now, she ends up at the same rest stop with mechanical trouble. Maybe, she deserves to sweat it out in the June heat since she has the attention span the size of a pea. But, the child in her company deserves better. What else can Mike do besides cart them to his garage for repairs?
Will their burgeoning relationship ignite more fireworks than the upcoming Fourth of July celebration? Or will the sparks of six nights and seven days of summertime sizzle—fizzle to an end?
Cutie and the Cowboy Trucker
(©2012)
By
Mickie
Sherwood
Chapter One
Veronica Torres looked at the
anonymous e-mail she'd received, printed out, and erased from her hard drive over a week ago. She had more than another week until
the dreaded joint mediation that would determine the action necessary to dig
the family-owned construction company out of its leadership debacle. She'd
outlined what she believed was the underlying issue in the private hour-long
preliminary session with the mediator a couple of weeks ago. As far as she was
concerned, ousting Juan as chairman was the answer to all of their problems.
His hands were always somewhere they did not belong. This time he had stuck his
paws in the pot one time too many.
Ramon had made allowances for
his older brother's mismanagement right up to the end. Well, her husband was
dead now. And she wasn't taking that crap. She was just a number cruncher, and
not even for the family business. But, now that her suspicions had been
confirmed, she would let no one jeopardize the futures of her children.
Summertime was in full swing, which meant she had no problem getting a
temporary leave of absence from her job as a senior accountant for a prominent
Realtor corporation.
Veronica took another look at
the warning e-mail. It had alarmed her to the extent she'd concocted a plan to
prevent Juan's aggravating behavior. How dare he brag to someone that he had
her in his back pocket? She wouldn't be bullied into an ill-conceived relationship
for the sake of saving the company. He was a lunatic to think she would keep
her mouth shut and bail him out at his whim. And to try to use her own son
against her was the last straw.
The front door alert sounded.
"Veronica?"
Veronica rushed to fold and
slip the paper into the pocket of her jeans just as her mother-in-law's heavy
Spanish accent announced her presence. "I'm in Sam's room."
What a mistake it has been to
build a house in his family's compound, she thought. It worked out okay during
Ramon's startling illness, but now, the constant visits were a nuisance.
"You're not ready?"
"You all go on without
me, Maria." Veronica was bailing on the weekly Wednesday outing. "Sam's
not feeling too well. I don't want to leave him with a sitter tonight."
She propped herself up on the side of his bed. Just as Veronica knew she would,
Maria crossed the room to feel the sleeping child's brow.
"He doesn't have a
fever."
A little perturbed at the
diagnosis, Veronica answered, "No, he doesn't. It's his stomach."
"Poor niño."
The sentiment expressed was
genuine. Veronica had no doubt about that.
The tone sounded again. "We're
going to be late for the dinner reservations."
"Our niño is sick."
Her mother-in-law's comment provided their location.
Seconds later, her
brother-in-law's sturdy frame filled the doorway. She might have considered his
dark features handsome except she had knowledge of his ruthless alter ego. He
had butted heads with Ramon on numerous occasions. Their differences of opinion
always stemmed from Juan's arrogant business practices, risk-taking management
style, and his intolerance of the employees.
Veronica had also had the
misfortune of being on the receiving end of his first and last attempt at
manhandling her. The episode occurred when he dropped in, out of the blue,
several months after Ramon's death with the intent of consoling her. He hadn't
taken too kindly to her refusal of his attention and had subdued her in a tight
hold to keep her from moving away. She had had no other alternative but to ram
her knee into his crotch. She won her freedom with that move, and along with
that, his contempt. However, from time to time, his narcissism surmounted his
good sense.
Juan peered at her, first, in
his usual aloof manner. She didn't have long to wait before his look, and
greeting, turned lusty. "Ronnie, you sexy thing. Beautiful as usual."
The slime all over those
words coated her skin. Veronica shuddered. "Juan, how many times must I
tell you? Nicknames are for children."
He marched into the room as
if he owned the place. She prepared to fend off his amorous attacks. Just as
she'd expected, Juan made it his business to stamp over and attempt a kiss.
Maria saved the day.
"Juanito! Behave!"
His mouth eased into a sneer.
"Let's go."
Veronica permitted Maria's
soft touch against her cheek as she started out of the room. "Have a great
time." She stayed well away from Juan, who hovered in the doorway, his
look of discontent aimed her way. At last, he vacated the premises.
Veronica sprinted to the
front of her house after hearing the tone when they exited. She was at the
glass entryway in time to see several vehicles idling on her lane. She pressed
into the shadows of the foyer to watch. Maria and Juan were in plain sight,
along with the rest of the family entourage. Juan remained on the outside after
everyone else climbed into the cars. He appeared fixated on her house until
someone called his name. His departure set the stage for her escape. It was now
or never.
His unwanted advances had
pushed her over the edge.
Veronica didn't have a minute
to lose as she raced around to make sure she had collected the bare necessities
for her departure. Angst pushed her faster. She dashed to the car, where she
slung things in total disregard to the fragile items. A turn and burn back
inside, and then she took the utmost care with the bundle she lovingly laid on
the backseat. Her son slumbered on.
Veronica was behind the wheel
in no time flat.
She eased the car out of the
garage without turning on the headlights. Instead of taking the driveway, she
swerved to the back of the lot to use the contractor's entrance. It had been
chained and locked since the completion of the house a few years ago. She
opened her car door, without the interior light illuminating. She hopped out at
the gate, leaving the motor running. Veronica had to combat the shakes that
threatened to be her downfall. It was especially hard to complete the task of
unlocking the padlock in total darkness.
Ultimately, success was hers
tonight.
She ran back to the car,
drove it through to the other side of the gate, and darted back to relock the
entrance so no one would be the wiser. Her heart pounded in her chest. The
night was so quiet, she heard the blood rushing through her veins. Veronica
stole a look in the rearview mirror and noticed the compound's yellow lights
minimizing into the background. She wrapped her sweaty palms around the
steering wheel in a death grip, indicating the tenseness of the situation. She
sucked in a rush of air when the front end slammed hard into the embankment
that signaled the end of the narrow cow trail through the pasture. This jerked
her forward against the locked seat belt, causing instant pain and a concerned
look at the backseat.
She maneuvered quickly, and
the vehicle swerved before skidding sideways. She exhibited skill at the wheel
by throwing the car into low gear in order to make the transition from dirt to
asphalt. It worked. The ominous dark road lay ahead.
The rear end whipped side to
side to gain traction as the motor gunned when she stomped the accelerator,
careening the car down the deserted road. It traveled quite a distance through
the still night before bluish light, at last, hit the black pavement. She
imagined the glowing red orbs in back decreasing in size into the inky night,
and breathed a slight sigh.
That was one mountainous
challenge accomplished.
But Veronica couldn't relax.
It was just too soon. A thin perspiration wet her underarms even though cool
air circulated in the interior of her car. Her jaw hurt from clamping her teeth
so tightly during the escape. Taut muscles caused pain unlike any she'd felt
before.
She took another backward
look, this time a long one to ensure there was no tail. So far, so good. They
had the highway all to themselves.
Although risky, her next
destination was the bus depot. She swung into the lot determined to make the
stop quick, fast, and in a hurry. The first obstacle to that plan was her
unresponsive sleeping child. Finally, left with no alternative, she managed to
wrangle his thin, rangy body into her arms. Off she scurried into the Louisiana
midnight air, wasting no time fretting over the strange looks received from
stragglers as she bore down on the depot entrance.
Hurried steps now had her in
front of a bank of lockers. The going wasn't easy, but she managed to fit the
key into one of the higher lockers without losing her grip on her son. She
yanked, and two soft-sided satchels tumbled out of their hiding place and hit
the floor at her feet. Sheer determination raised both by the straps and on up
over her other shoulder. Saddled down, yet feeling understandably successful,
she hustled back to her car, tossed everything into the trunk. She nestled her
baby comfortably on the backseat with the utmost care.
With hurdle number two mastered,
she was off again, driving like a bat out of hell to her next stop.
The number of upsetting
scenarios jumbling Veronica's brain helped tick down the hours to her
destination. She circled under the pink vapor lights in the parking lot of the
all-night supermarket to find her contacts. The clandestine meeting symbolized
the freedom she sought.
She had finalized the
prearranged encounter online. Recognizing her contacts was easy. Trusting them
at their word about the transaction she was about to embark upon was the
difficult part. The gigantic motor home stood out like a rose surrounded by
thickets. As she pulled abreast, the door swung open and a middle-aged couple
stepped out. They advanced on the driver's side of Veronica's Jaguar, sporting
pleased looks of admiration.
"The picture didn't do
it justice, Mrs. Torres," the woman crooned. "I love this car."
Veronica exited to circle
with them as they inspected every inch of her luxury sedan. "I'm glad,
Mrs. Spearman." They wound up with their noses pressed against the window
glass. She offered an explanation at their quizzical glances while allowing
them access to the interior, the trunk, and the hood. "My son's had a long
night."
Veronica led them over to the
RV. It was her turn to tromp around the recreational vehicle that would soon be
hers. She rounded the back and came to a dead halt. Well, she would have
preferred a clean back end to such a suggestive slogan displayed across the
window. However, that was an "oh well" moment. Her examination
continued as she boarded to find the lush interior to her liking. She could
live like that for a while.
"Will you start it up?"
Mr. Spearman jumped to hand
her the keys.
Sitting and adjusting the
seat, Veronica checked for advice first. "Is there anything I should know
prior to doing this?"
"It's no different than
starting your car," he reassured.
She turned the key.
"Listen to that,"
Mr. Spearman said.
Veronica listened for any
malfunctioning sounds. "What?" She didn't hear a thing that set off
any alarm bells in her head.
"It purrs like a kitten."
"Oh." She switched
the engine off. "That's a good thing." She took the initiative and
exited, leading them back to her vehicle.
"Please tell me we have
a deal," Mrs. Spearman pleaded. She looked at Veronica's ride with greedy
eyes, as though it were a big hunk of chocolate cake.
"I'm in agreement to
make the trade if you are." Actually, Veronica had to contain her
excitement for fear they'd change their minds.
"I'll get the title,"
Mr. Spearman volunteered.
Veronica did likewise. She
also disturbed her slumbering child, who was able to walk under his own power
into the giant supercenter, where the twenty-four-hour notary conducted the
business exchange. All went smoothly as far as Veronica was concerned. The
happy couple took one last look around the inside of the RV to remove any
forgotten items.
The turnover wasn't complete
until Veronica got a crash course on handling the RV by taking several turns
around the parking lot. Mr. Spearman was gracious enough to give her instructions
and tips for the road. She watched her vehicle cruise away, flabbergasted she'd
had the nerve to even consider finding a swap on an Internet trading site.
* * * *
Wouldn't you know it, she
thought, exasperated with the constant thumping noise coming from the roof. A
quick look over her head revealed the sunroof bubble annoyingly dancing out of
its fitting. Oh well. She could do
nothing about it now, traveling sixty-five miles per hour along the Florida
peninsula in the middle of nowhere. Her surreptitious venture peeled back the
layers of her life like an onion and exposed a gigantic fault. Life had passed
her by long enough since Ramon's death.
Living a little was what she'd been doing. Thanks to the pain in her
rear called Juan, it was now time to live a lot.
She gazed lovingly at her
primary reason for kicking her existence up a notch.
The alarming blasts of
quad-toned air horns brought her attention back to the road and her position
straddling the center line. Her panicked response was to jerk the wheel of the
unfamiliar RV, causing an overcorrection. The behemoth swerved recklessly
across the double lanes, dragging the air out of her lungs with a squeal.
"What's happening, Mama?"
the little voice beside her asked.
"Hold on, Sam!"
The words wrung from her
lungs sounded a warning, yet her soft voice held his fright at bay. The
barreling 18-wheeler, with its oversized sizzling-red sleeper, whizzed by as if
her tires were gummed to the highway. The close call struck more fear into
Veronica than the lifelike, fang-bared, coiled snake illustrated on the back
wall of the cab.
"Ooooh." Her body
shuddered.
The bulky truck minimized as
it gradually disappeared to a gleaming red speck on the horizon. Her zigzagging
motor home snaked along for a few more feet, propelled this way and that by the
lag of its rear end. It took all she had not to shut her eyes, for she hated
snakes with a passion. Real or illustrated, it didn't matter.
Sam chuckled in delighted
excitement. "Do it again, Mama!"
She regained control, took a
relieved breath, and promised silently to maintain her watch on the road. "One
thrill ride is enough for the day, Sammy." A rest stop sign appeared as if
to underscore her point. Five hours with her new mode of transportation and she
was still getting a feel of its handling. "It's time for a break. What do
you say?"
Her four-year-old looked at
her with beaming eyes and exclaimed, "I say do it again!"
Her laugh escaped as she
heard her husband's gregarious tone clip through the lips of her baby. "Oh,
you," she teased with a tap to his knee.
Veronica turned her attention
to the task at hand in order to avoid a repeat of the frightening episode. She
was exhausted, since their escapade had started in the wee hours of the murky
morning. They were nomads, now, traveling at a pace dictated by the feel of the
moment. Any reasons to rush had been eliminated with the acquisition of the RV.
She traveled incognito, satisfied Juan would be none the wiser about their
whereabouts. Other travelers were missiles as they flew by at ground level,
leaving them coughing at the residual fumes.
She slowed at the upcoming
exit in order to make a safe departure from the interstate while maneuvering a
hairpin curve. It was the beginning of many as they wound their way to the top
of the treed hill. She meandered into the parking area, following the route for
trucks and RVs, to choose a spot adjacent to the welcome station, but in close
proximity to the picnic area. The last thing she craved was unwanted attention.
However, she felt it important to be near the grassy area for Sam and Bingo's
comfort.
Veronica pulled into a spot
at the curb, shut down, and secured her rolling home from misadventure .
"Well, what do you
think?"
Veronica inspected their
surroundings through the front windshield with a critical eye, finding it
hilarious the way Sam imitated her actions. She twisted in her seat to scan out
the side window, seeing nothing out of the ordinary. The side mirrors and rear
camera showed no suspicious happenings. She swiveled her captain's chair
forward.
"Time to stretch our
legs."
"And Bingo's, too?"
"And Bingo's, too,"
she agreed.
The Yorkie gave a long, lazy
stretch with her rear end tooted in the air, when Sam released her from her
safety cage. After removing herself from behind the wheel, Veronica did
likewise—all except the toot—and it felt grand. Not to be left out, Sam raised
his spindly arms toward the ceiling, dropped them to the floor, and shook his
rump from side to side.
"Show-off," his
mother laughed. "Come on."
They left the captivity of
the plush RV, where she immediately locked up and checked every entrance before
leading them out into the sunny afternoon, across the parking lot to the pooch
potty. Bingo needed no persuasion to do her business as she sniffed around for
just the right spot. Veronica canvassed the numerous trucks and cars on the
premises, taking note how most clustered close to the shortest distance to the
facilities. A sparse few fanned out along the outer extremities, apparently
preferring solitude to socializing.
Sights, sounds, and smells
awakened her senses to the newness of life in spite of her efforts to cling to
the days of her tragic loss. There was a buzz in the air signaling all sorts of
activities going on around them. Every now and then, children's laughter split
the air, and Sam perked up in anticipation. She labeled his interest for what
it was—a desire for kiddie company.
"I'm hungry," he
announced, turning to her with an expectant look on his face.
She grabbed his hand for the
march through the grass to the Vacationer. "I could use a sandwich, too."
"Nooo," he whined. "I'm
really hungry."
She got the drift. "Spaghetti?"
"Spaghetti!" His
enthusiasm rang in the open air.
Veronica approached the door
and immediately remembered the rattletrap sounds from earlier. She decided to
steal a look at the situation.
But first, she kneeled in
front of her son for an eye-to-eye chat. "Sammy, Mama's got to check the
roof." She stepped into the RV for something to hold his and Bingo's
attention for a while, and came out with a big red ball. Strapping the dog
leash around his wrist, she instructed, "I want you and Bingo to stay
right here and play. Can you do that for me?"
"Where are you going?"
She recognized the tremor in
his voice. "I'll never leave you alone, Sam." A humongous
substantiating hug brought a smile to his face. Veronica kissed him until his
giggles chimed on the wind, signifying his acceptance of what she'd said. "Stay
where I can see you. Okay?"
"Okay."
Veronica monitored the scene,
checking to see if they'd garnered any unwarranted interest, before climbing up
the side ladder to the roof. Looking down on him from the top rung, she reminded
Sam, "Stay put." His acknowledgment sent her on her hands and knees
along the hot metal roof, to the troublesome area.
The lid moved easily at the
touch of her hand. Screws hung in their holes, giving her the idea of
tightening them with her fingers. That worked only so well, not well enough to
make a tight seal. Only one thing to do. She maneuvered her way back to the
ladder, peered over the edge, and almost had a heart attack.
"Sam!" She screamed
his name, and he looked straight at her, then to the man sitting at the picnic
table. She looked at the man, too. Veronica scrambled to grab the ladder for a
fast descent. A couple of erratic steps nearly cost her dearly as she slammed
hard against the side of the motor home when the ladder moved.
She readjusted her grip. "Get
over here, Samuel!" she demanded between spastic heaves.
If she thought things couldn't
get any worse, she had another think coming.
A metallic noise captured her
attention while she was suspended midway between heaven and Earth. Her eyes
widened as she pinpointed the problem. It was the fasteners at the top of the
ladder. They popped loose with a scraping sound—one at a time—while she
watched.
The feeling of floating
washed over Veronica as she steeled herself for impact. At the same time, she
thought of her baby boy below, witnessing the scene. Several seconds passed
without any pain inflicted on her body, causing her eyes to open. She still
clung to the ladder although in a horizontal position, staring up at the deep
blue sky, hands glued in place, rear end sagging, and her sandaled toes hooked
backward over the rungs.
She scoped out the distance
left to tumble to the hard ground, finding a wonderful sight to behold. The
bottom of the ladder had stayed anchored even as the metal above bent
perpendicular to the RV. Veronica let go and thudded the two feet or so to the
grass. She craned her neck as her concern returned to Sam, who, by that time,
stood next to her with tears in his eyes. Bingo showed appreciation for the
unrehearsed stunt by showering her with kisses.
Veronica laughed nervously.
"Okay, okay, Bingo."
What caught the breath in her
throat as she attempted to regroup were the man-size reptile-skin boots poised
behind Sam and planted widely on either side of his little sandals.
"Need help?"
Veronica noticed the
cocoa-brown hands clamped on Sam's shoulders. They bore the pinkish spotted
discoloration of healed burn scars. That in itself was an insignificant matter.
The sight of his grip arrested any relief she felt at overcoming her close
call. Struggling to free herself from her caged position, she scraped to her
feet, grinding grass stains into the knees of her jeans, desperate to come to
the rescue.
"Take your hands off my
son!" She attacked, reaching to snatch Sam away from his clutch.
His top lip curled under the
full, neatly trimmed salt-and-pepper mustache he sported.
She backed up a few steps,
never wavering under his gaze shielded by mirrored shades and a soft-looking
crushable Stetson. Her own disheveled reflection in his lenses broadcast alarm,
but not the uncertainty swirling in the center of her abdomen. Her butterscotch
complexion deepened as she stared him down. Or better yet, up and down, for
even at her five-nine height, he was still head and shoulders taller.
No comments:
Post a Comment