Page 3 of Road Trip With Her Daddy Protector (Love Along Route 14)

Lola

I rest my forehead against the cool glass of the truck window, eyelids heavy as I watch the shadows pass by in streaks of black and gray. Gus’s quiet breathing and the steady rumble of the truck create a hypnotic rhythm that lulls my tired mind into a fragile half-sleep.

But even as exhaustion drags me under, memories tug at me like dark currents beneath calm water, pulling me back into Tyler’s grasp.

The first time I met Tyler Cole, he had seemed so effortlessly charming, his blue eyes bright and playful, his smile crooked in a way that made my heart flutter.

I was nineteen—young, carefree, certain I knew everything.

My father had warned me about guys like Tyler.

“Be careful,” he’d said, his eyes wary. “He’s trouble, sweetheart. I can feel it.”

But I hadn't listened. Back then, Tyler’s attention had felt like sunshine—warm and addictive. He’d told me I was beautiful, special, different from anyone he’d ever met. And I’d foolishly believed him, losing myself entirely to his charm.

Now, I feel sick at how easily he manipulated me.

How blind I'd been to the truth hiding behind his honeyed words.

The first red flags were subtle, just whispers of his true nature: possessive questions about my friends, silent anger when I spent too much time away from him.

But by the time I saw the danger clearly, I was in too deep to get out easily.

And the last thing he’d whispered, face twisted with cruel determination, still echoes through my head: “You can run, Lola, but I’ll find you anywhere.”

The thought sends a shudder through my body. A hot tear escapes down my cheek, and I quickly swipe it away, praying Gus doesn't see.

When sleep finally takes me, it’s fitful and shallow, riddled with nightmares. Images of Tyler stalking closer, eyes burning with rage, jolt me awake repeatedly until Gus’s deep voice finally breaks through.

“Lola. Wake up, kid.”

I startle awake, heart hammering, pulse pounding against my ribs. Gus’s hand is on my shoulder, gentle yet firm, grounding me. I glance around, disoriented. We’ve stopped. Outside the truck window, the dull glow of a roadside motel flickers in faded neon.

“What—where are we?” I mumble, rubbing my eyes.

“You need proper sleep,” Gus says quietly. He looks weary, eyes shadowed beneath dark brows. “We’re at a motel. We’ll rest a few hours.”

I nod mutely, swallowing hard as he climbs out and walks around the truck. When he opens my door, offering his hand to help me down, the rough warmth of his palm sends sparks up my arm.

The room is small and tired-looking, dimly lit by a lamp on a worn wooden table. But all I see is the single bed dominating the cramped space. Heat floods my cheeks, and I quickly glance away, heart racing with sudden nerves.

Gus stiffens slightly beside me, clearly having the same realization. “I’ll take the floor,” he mutters gruffly, averting his eyes.

“Gus, no,” I protest quietly. “It’ll kill your back. You’ve been driving nonstop—you need real rest.”

He hesitates, jaw tightening stubbornly. “Lola, I can’t?—”

“Yes, you can,” I interrupt gently, stepping closer. “Please. Besides…I’ll feel safer with you next to me.”

His eyes widen slightly, and the muscles in his throat flex visibly as he swallows. Finally, after a long pause, he nods once. “Fine. But only because you need to feel safe.”

I turn away quickly, hiding my flushed face. He waits respectfully outside while I slip into pajamas from my duffel bag, my pulse quickening as I slide beneath the covers, nerves jittering through me like a live wire.

When Gus comes back in, he keeps his gaze carefully averted, pulling off his boots and shrugging out of his jacket.

His movements are precise, almost rigid, as though he's forcing himself not to think too hard about what we’re doing.

But as he slides into bed beside me, the mattress dipping under his weight, every nerve in my body ignites.

“Try to sleep, Lola,” he murmurs softly, facing away from me, his broad shoulders tense beneath the thin cotton shirt he’s still wearing.

“Okay,” I whisper back, heart pounding. But sleep feels impossible. Not with Gus so close—his warmth radiating beside me, his steady breathing filling the quiet room.

Minutes stretch into an eternity, and my mind races with forbidden thoughts.

Slowly, I turn onto my side, facing him.

Gus lies perfectly still, eyes closed, his handsome face softened by sleep.

I can't stop myself from studying him—the stubble shadowing his jaw, the faint lines at the corners of his eyes, the strong curve of his mouth.

His chest rises and falls rhythmically, drawing my gaze downward, heat pooling low in my belly.

He’s beautiful. The thought makes me blush deeply, but I don’t look away. Being this close to Gus feels illicit, dangerous—but also so right. I’ve never felt safer or more alive than I do right now, watching him sleep.

Almost involuntarily, my fingers itch to touch him, to trace the hard line of his shoulder, to feel his heartbeat beneath my palm. I close my eyes briefly, trying to calm myself, but the pull is irresistible.

I reach out slowly, my fingertips brushing lightly against his arm, barely a whisper of contact. Gus inhales sharply, muscles tensing beneath my touch. His eyes snap open, locking onto mine, dark and unreadable.

“Lola…” he growls softly, voice thick with sleep and something else—something I desperately want to understand. “What are you doing?”

“I—I couldn’t sleep,” I whisper nervously, not pulling away.

“You need to sleep,” he insists, but his voice is rougher now, strained. “We both do.”

“Gus,” I murmur, gathering courage, “please don’t push me away.”

He groans softly, shutting his eyes again. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”

“Yes, I do,” I say firmly, scooting closer until mere inches separate us. His warmth seeps into my skin, intoxicating and terrifying. “I’m asking you to stop pretending there’s nothing here.”

His jaw clenches, eyes flashing open again. “Lola, I’m too old, too broken, and?—”

“You’re exactly what I need,” I interrupt boldly, surprising myself. “You make me feel safe. Protected. Wanted.”

His breathing deepens sharply, and he stares into my eyes, a storm raging behind his gaze. “You deserve better,” he whispers roughly, voice tinged with pain.

“I don’t want better,” I whisper back. “I want you.”

He reaches up suddenly, his calloused fingers gently brushing a strand of hair from my cheek. I shiver at the tender touch, heart hammering erratically.

“You have no idea how long I've wanted to hear that,” he murmurs softly, thumb grazing my lower lip. “But you're vulnerable right now. I can't take advantage of?—”

“You're not,” I insist quickly, leaning into his hand. “I trust you.”

A deep, tortured sigh escapes him. His fingers linger against my skin, hesitant and gentle. “You have no idea how tempting you are, Lola. How much you test my control.”

“Then stop controlling it,” I breathe, pressing my lips lightly against his palm. He groans, the sound raw and agonized, but his eyes blaze hotter, filled with desire he can't disguise.

Finally, he shakes his head slightly, reluctantly pulling his hand away. “Not tonight,” he says roughly. “You need sleep, and so do I.”

Disappointment aches through me, but beneath it simmers a new, hopeful warmth. Gus didn't deny his feelings—just delayed them. For now.

“Okay,” I whisper, retreating slightly. “But I'm not giving up.”

His lips twitch faintly, a rare smile tugging at his mouth. “I didn't think you would.”

I lie back down, closer now, barely an inch between us. Gus doesn't move away. As silence settles again, my eyes grow heavy at last, comforted by his presence.

“Sleep, Lola,” he murmurs tenderly. “I've got you.”

Wrapped in the safety of Gus's protective warmth, I finally drift toward sleep, knowing he means every word—and that for the first time in my life, I'm exactly where I belong.