Read Rough Ride for Free Online

trying to explode out. The inside smelled of dirt and grease and other man smells. This was a working truck and she was grateful she’d worn denim shorts instead of a white skirt today. She climbed in and he closed the door behind her. The plastic on the door was cracked. Grime filled the markings of the plastic. A layer of dirt was over the dash. The floorboard looked like a dustpan of loose dirt and boxes of some sort of parts. A giant-sized cup was in the holder from Tonya’s diner.
    He got in on the other side, glanced at her and winced. “Uh, sorry. I live out of my truck sometimes.”
    “It’s okay.” She wouldn’t mention it was a short drive and she could have just walked from her trailer, but this was interesting. More clues into the life of Lane Iverson. Clues she didn’t really need for their pretend relationship of just having sex, but she couldn’t help but suck all this in.
    He adjusted the vents and cold air blasted her face and across her shoulders. Chills covered her, but he said nothing as he stopped in front of his trailer. She hopped down and met him at the front of the truck.
    They’d fallen into silence again, but this time it was awkward. He turned to her a couple of times, then stared at his keys. Then back to her.
    She pushed her hands in her pockets. “So what’s for supper?”
    “Your choice.” He flipped through the keys and opened the front door, allowing her to enter first.
    She slipped her shoes off at the door out of habit and walked in, but it was a little different this time. Not as a manager looking at his home. But as a girl wondering about the man behind it. Not that she hadn’t been doing that last time, but this time she had excuses for bending at his end table and touching the fish baits whereas last time, she’d only been able to look from afar.
    She put her hand to the thick arm of the couch and straightened, following him to the kitchen…where he opened the freezer. “Take your pick.”
    She met his gaze and then stared into the rows of slender boxes. “You must be joking.”
    “Have you had them?”
    “No.” At least not this brand. These were the expensive ones. Well, expensive as far as the frozen food market was concerned. It was still cheap junk.
    “Then you can’t knock it ‘til you try.” He reached in and pulled out spaghetti.
    The only reason she was doing this was to stay with him longer. She picked the broccoli and fettuccini. It seemed the safest since there was no meat. Or at least, nothing in there that had been shaped into meat.
    Truth was she’d lived off this crap as a kid. Her parents didn’t cook and she got junk. There was nothing to them. No nutrients, nothing. Just filling food to knock off hunger pains for a few hours.
    She was always sick as a kid and the fact that she was barely five foot didn’t help her opinion of the stuff any. Kids needed real food. And real vegetables, not the waxy supposed green beans and she wouldn’t even think of what those potatoes were really made from. The first big book Gretchen had read was a cookbook and she put it to use as soon as she could.
    Lane flipped her box around and nodded. “Good selection.”
    He read the back of the boxes and she stepped aside as he turned on the oven and then opened them. She would not comment about how he was cooking two completely different meals together. At least they were both pasta. He popped them in the oven. “Going for a quick shower.”
    She arched her brows and kept up this light talk by leaning over the dinners. They never talked when together, so she used what she had. “Should I flip them mid-way?”
    He chuckled. “Don’t touch them. Just let them cook. When I get out, they’ll be about finished.”
    He walked from the kitchen and pulled his shirt over his head. Muscles over muscles shaped his back and down to his waist. He turned back, the button of his jeans popped open, his chest wide. “There are some cokes in the refrigerator. Help