Part Four

Jon laughed and hastened to catch up with Terri. “Wait a second,” he said gently grabbing hold of her arm. “I’ve got the ass, the smile, the baby blues. . . you gonna reconsider a date, darlin’? Oh by the way, hi, I’m Jon.”

Terri grabbed his hand off her arm and examined it. Callouses, check. Crooked fingers, check. Sweet hell, he was for real. “I know who the fuck you are!” Terri exclaimed. “And if you wanna keep your strummin’ hand, you’d best keep it the hell off my person; at least until you tell me why you’re here. Then I’ll decide if you can touch me and how and where.”

Terri couldn’t believe she’d just said that, but Jon chuckled low in his throat, so she figured she was safe. “That sounds like a deal, Terri,” he said, and the sound of her name on his lips was just about the sweetest, sexiest thing she’d ever heard.

“Jumpin’ Jesus, man, what the hell are you doing here?” Terri noticed she still had hold of Jon’s hand and dropped it.

“Looking for you,” Jon answered, smiling. Terri’s hair was past her shoulders and a myriad of browns and blondes and looked like it was soft as goose down. Her eyes were sparkling and he saw a hint of embarrassment in them, and a whole lot of intrigue. A smirk played at the corner of her mouth, like she was itching to zing a smart-ass remark back at him, but wasn’t sure if she should.

“Well, no shit, baby, I’m the only one here besides the wonder that is Tammy.” Apparently, she decided ‘what the hell’.

“You’re here alone?”

“Yeah,” Terri said defiantly. “Why? You gonna try something, city boy?”

There was just enough challenge in her tone to make Jon say, “I don’t see anyone here to stop me.” He gave himself a mental shake. He had an agenda and he needed to follow it. He could not be distracted by her sass or her voice. Or those eyes. Or the hair. Or the way she filled out her t-shirt and jeans. He gave himself another shake.

Terri hooted. “Dayum, Jon, you have no idea who you’re fucking with.” She shook her head. “C’mon, I guess you can keep me company while I have dinner.”

“You haven’t eaten yet?”

She thought she was doing very well, letting the idiotic, inane comments go by, but shit, if she could be coherent, the least he could do was try. “Am I talkin’ too fast for ya, baby? Or is it that dinner means something different where ya’ll are from?”

Jon chuckled. “No, smart ass, dinner is still the last meal of the day. I’d be happy to join you.”

“Good, then you can tell me just what in the HELL you are doing here.” Terri was talking a good game, but was a wreck inside. This was the man who’d fueled more than a zillion fantasies over the years, some of which she’d written about, some of which she kept for herself. He freaking sought her OUT, and was hanging around the station waiting for her. HER. This kind of stuff just didn’t happen to her.

Jon walked Terri to her truck and opened the door for her. “You wanna follow me, or hop in?” she asked, not sure which she wanted him to pick.

“I’ll hop in,” he said. “As long as you promise to bring me back here to collect my car,” he joked.

“Now, baby, I can’t promise you that,” Terri said winking. “But I promise to consider it.”

Jon chuckled. “Fair enough.” He rounded the back of the truck and climbed into the passenger seat. Terri pointed her baby in the direction of her favorite diner. The entire short drive, Terri drove like there was an iron pole down her spine. Her hands were gripping the steering wheel so tightly, it’s a wonder she didn’t break part of it off. She kept sneaking looks at Jon, taking in his relaxed smile, and more than once, caught him looking at her.

After what seemed to her to be an eternity, Terri flicked her directional and pulled into Berties. “Bertram will make you the best burger on the planet,” she said. “You’ll love it.” She parked in a lot that, given the late hour, was remarkably full. Terri saw him looking astonished at the cars, trucks, and rigs in the lot. “Bertie stays open all night; he gets all sorts of trucker traffic, and everyone coming off night shift.” She threw the truck into park and grabbed her bag from under her seat. “C’mon, let’s go.”

Bertram, who was ninety if he was a day, greeted Terri like a long-lost daughter. He told her to go on back to her booth with her friend. “How’s he like his burger?”

Terri turned to Jon and smiled. “Medium, grilled onions, spicy mustard. And double sweet-potato curly fries.”

Jon laughed. “How’d you know that about the burger?”

Terri just gave him a look. “You’re kidding, right? You do know I’m a pretty avid fan. I know all sorts of shit you don’t think I know.”

“And the fries?”

“Baby, you HAVE to have Berties special recipe sweet potato curly fries,” Terri said, lowering her voice dramatically. “Bertie’ll call the sheriff if you don’t.”

They sat across from each other in the booth Bertram always kept vacant for Terri on nights she worked. “Now,” she said, as they settled in with their Cokes, “what brings you to Arkansas?” She held her breath, terrified of the answer.

“TC and Sin,” Jon answered.

“Oh, fuck,” Terri said, for the second time that night.