Page 267

Because it had been so dead, I was already well and truly on top of the cleanup for the end of my shift, and so was Charles. We moved together a few tables, with me grabbing tinsel and other decorations off the walls and festooning them across the surface.

“So what’s your name?” Charles asked the blond stranger, gesturing for him to take a seat at the head of the table.

“Shaun,” he replied, looking at the chair. “You sure? I can?—”

“If you’re fitting the bill, you may as well take the place of honour,” Charles said with a broad grin.

He was a huge guy, his family originally from Tonga, which made me feel a lot more secure on late nights.

He was as sweet as pie, a total gentle giant, except when he felt like someone was acting up.

I’d seen him go from mellow to ripping someone’s head off, figuratively, in a matter of seconds, especially when female staff were involved.

He was the cook and bouncer, all rolled into one out here.

“Now, what do you fancy? I’ve got turkey, ham, roast lamb, potatoes, pumpkin, peas and carrots with a honey glaze?—”

“It sounds awesome, all of it,” Shaun replied, blinking a little at the proposed bounty.

“I thought I’d be sleeping in the back of the truck after scarfing down a meat pie that’d been sitting in a bain-marie for three days straight and washing it down with a flat Coke.

Any and all of what you described is fine by me.

” His eyes flicked to me. “And anyway, it should be lady’s choice, right? ”

I opened my mouth to reply, but nothing came out. Well, a whole lot wanted to, but since it involved mashed potatoes being spread all over his muscular chest and gravy trickled over that before I licked him clean, I kept that to myself.

“You’ve never done us wrong before, Charles,” I said. “Let’s go with whatever you think’s best.”

“Three course dinner it is then,” he said, rubbing his hands together, then disappeared back into the kitchen.

“So, Shaun, another beer, or would you like something else?” I asked, getting to my feet.

It felt weird, sitting in the big dining area, every table empty, the floor swept clean and mopped.

The only view outside through the big windows was the artificial lights above the fuel pumps, the bugs buzzing around them, and a brief glimpse of the highway before it disappeared into the darkness.

“What kind of something else do you have?”

Shaun was acting like a normal guy. He was looking forward to a good feed, had obviously been driving his rig all day by the lines on his face, and had been given an expense account to go with his trip.

There was nothing unusual about him looking for something a bit more top shelf, but…

I looked back at him, saw those perfect turquoise eyes were on me, and noticed something hungry in that gaze.

I didn’t overthink that, moving over to the bar and taking a look at the stock.

“We’ve got Jacks, Beam, Bundy. There’s a nice OP bottle of that.”

“OP Bundy and Coke sounds like a winner to me,” he said, settling back in his chair to watch me pull out a full bottle, some glasses, and a jug of Coke post mix.

“How do you like your drink?” I asked, cracking the screw top.

“Strong.” He was still staring, but his gaze had gotten flatter, more emotionless at that. “I…have trouble sleeping sometimes.”

“Fuck, tell me they don’t have you mainlining all that speedy weedy shit that most of the truckers take,” I said, realising as soon as the words were blurted out that it was probably not wise.

If he were on track to become a tweaker, that was his business, surely.

I handed him his drink, there being two shots of an already over proofed rum in it with some Coke to ease the burn.

He held it and waited until I’d poured my own, before raising his glass to me.

I did the same and then took a mouthful.

“No,” he said. “I don’t drive that much. The community I live in, they didn’t use to do much about Christmas before now, but some of the kids started getting excited about the idea, and so someone needed to go and pick up the orders. I’m single, don’t have a family waiting for me?—”

“How the hell is that possible?” I muttered, only realising how loudly when he grinned in response. But that turned to something wondering as his brows creased.

“Most girls out here, they aren’t too friendly,” he said, nursing his drink.

“Oh, I’m plenty friendly.” Especially towards a fine specimen like you. “Gotta be, living in the boonies. I’m the same—no family, haven’t seen my friends in ages. If I don’t make the effort with customers, it gets awful lonely, y’know?”

My response had somehow turned into a question, one he was about to answer, leaning forward, long, well-formed fingers toying with the rim of his glass, his lips parting to tell me yeah, he knew all about that.

Inexplicably, in that moment, I knew. Like when you look across a crowded bar, past all the people posturing and whooping it up, and your eyes lock on someone, someone who sees through all the bullshit, just like you do, who shoots you a secret smile, acknowledging a truth only the two of you saw.

Of course, that was when the kitchen doors opened, swinging noisily on their hinges, and Charles deposited platters of finger foods in front of us.

“Helen, our boss, she thought we were gonna capture the lonely trucker market. Everyone stuck out here on Christmas Eve,” Charles said by way of explanation as Shaun stared at the bounty before us.

“We had some earlier on in the day,” I said, snagging some of the cabana, cheese, and pickle onion towers he’d put on toothpicks.

“Nowhere near enough to warrant what was spent. That’s Helen,” I said with a shrug.

“Lots of ideas but…” I looked around at the place.

“Let’s just say neither of us are confident we’ll still be in these jobs in six months’ time.

The drought has gone on too long. There’s not enough people coming out here anymore. ”

Charles let out a long breath. It was something we’d talked about plenty as we saw the day’s takings drop. Some days, it was all we had to talk about, as the hours between customers seemed to grow longer and longer.

“Well, you’ll have to thank Helen for me,” Shaun said, reaching over and piling food onto his plate, Charles grinning in response. Nothing he liked better than seeing people appreciate his creations. “This is…” His eyes slid to me, and he smiled. “More than I expected to enjoy today.”

Charles looked at me, cocking an eyebrow as Shaun bent to take a mouthful of the canapes. If an opportunity arose, we were each other’s wingman one hundred percent. He jerked his eyes to the stranger, widening them at me when Shaun let out a groan I could feel reverberating through my whole body.

“Fuck, mate,” Shaun said finally after swallowing the spuds. “You’re like a Michelin star chef or something. This is good shit.”

“Thanks,” Charles replied with a wide grin. “Bec here helped.”

“Yeah?”

Under the table, I kicked Charles fair in the ankle as those turquoise blue eyes came back to meet mine. I wanted Shaun’s attention obviously, but not for something I had absolutely no hand in helping.

“So how did you do it?” Shaun asked, his fork hovering as he stared into my eyes. Well, not just my eyes. They slid down to my mouth, then back up again.

“Um…how did I do what?” I asked, hearing Charles snort again.

Shaun smiled at that, something slow and feline. It wasn’t a totally confident thing, like it’d been a long time since he needed to pull this smile out, but damn, the world was missing out. His eyes had grown heavily hooded, and right now, he looked like pure fucking sex.

“Make oysters taste so good.”

It was right about now I was reminded of all the sexy shit people used to say about oysters.

To me, they just looked and tasted like snot, but after loosening the meat, strong fingers brought the shell to his lips and he slurped it down.

I just watched the shift of that golden throat, unable to form a response.

“Homemade Worcestershire sauce!” Charles said brightly and got to his feet. He shot me a wink, then said, “I’ve gotta just check on the meat, make sure I’m not overheating it too much. But eat up, enjoy.”

Oh, I was enjoying all right. I watched Shaun demolish a few more oysters before he stopped and offered one to me.

“Oh no, I couldn’t,” I said.

“Allergic?”

“Um…no, but?—”

“Try one. Seriously, they’re freaking amazing.”

He held out a shell to me, like some kind of golden god offering me a drink of ambrosia, but damn me if I cared that it was slimy crustacean instead.

He loosened the meat, made sure mine was brimming with sauce and the tiny shreds of bacon that Charles had carefully cut up, then reached across the table.

I did the same, expecting to take it from him and have one for politeness’ sake.

Well, that and who could say no to this face?

But he held onto the oyster, getting to his feet and towering over me, even with the table between us.

So I opened my mouth, didn’t I, imagining allll the ways a similar scenario like this could work back in my room, naked of course, when he put the shell to my lips.

Spicy sauce, sharp citrus, and crunchy bacon all helped mask the unctuous feel of the oyster as it went down my throat, and damn me if I could taste any of the salty snottiness when he just stood there, staring at me.

Right up until the door swung open and Charles the cockblocker appeared again with a platter of steaming dishes.

“I’ll just help Charles bring in the rest of the food,” I said, getting to my feet and sailing past my friend’s curious look.

I didn’t stop, didn’t listen to what they had to say until I was in the kitchen, the heat and quiet almost welcome.

I put my hands on the bench and just breathed for a second, then grabbed a tea towel and mopped my sweaty forehead.

“Ohhh, someone’s getting dick tonight,” Charles said in a low voice when he returned. “That boy, he’s got an intercontinental pussy seeking missile in his pants with your name on it, baby. Here’s your present. Merry Christmas.”

He slapped a box of condoms we sold behind the counter on the table. They were one of our highest selling items.

“I can’t do that. No, no fucking way. How the hell do you fuck someone that pretty?”

“Naked, dickhead,” he replied with a sharp grin. “You do it naked.”