The Truck Driver

Texas Roadhouse

They ate, and Tank paid the bill once again.

"I can pay the bill," Kayla said as they walked back toward his truck, her tone laced with quiet determination.

Tank shot her a sideways glance, shaking his head. "Lil' girl, hold on to ya money. I got it," he told her, unlocking the truck doors.

Kayla sighed as they tossed their bags into the back. "I know you do, but I don't want you thinking I'm taking advantage of you," she admitted, watching as he climbed into the driver's seat and started the engine.

Tank pulled the covers from the windows, giving her an amused smirk. "You couldn't take advantage of me even if you wanted to."

Kayla laughed, shaking her head. "But I still wanna do something," she pressed.

Tank shifted into gear, pulling away from the diner. "You keepin' me company is enough," he said, flashing her a small smile as they approached a gas station.

Kayla sighed again, leaning her head against the window.

Tank chuckled as he parked at the pump. "Tell ya what," he said, unbuckling his seatbelt. "We'll think of somethin' so you can do ya part. But 'til then? Just relax." He winked at her before hopping out of the truck.

Kayla watched through the window as he stretched before grabbing the gas nozzle. She found herself staring at the way his muscles flexed beneath his hoodie, the way he moved; strong, confident, at ease. It was like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders but carried it effortlessly.

She wasn't used to men like Tank. He wasn't pushy, wasn't expecting anything from her. He wasn't trying to manipulate her or make her feel like she owed him somethin'. He was just... solid.

Kayla exhaled, sitting back in her seat. Maybe, just maybe, this trip wasn't a mistake after all.

Tank drove, his eyes locked on the road, hands steady on the wheel. He barely had to think about it, driving was second nature to him by now.

Kayla, on the other hand, had taken it upon herself to straighten up his space. It wasn't dirty, but he had clothes scattered here and there, little things tossed around from being on the road so much.

"You can put some of ya clothes in the drawers under the bed if ya want," Tank told her, glancing at her through the rearview mirror.

Kayla smiled and did just that. She carefully unpacked her suitcase, folding her clothes neatly and placing them in the empty space, leaving her duffle bag packed as there was no more space for the items in the duffle bag. As she moved around, she pulled a quilt from her backpack and spread it out over the bed.

Tank glanced back at the colorful fabric, catching a glimpse of her face as she smoothed it over the mattress. "That mean somethin' special to ya?" he asked, his voice low.

Kayla nodded, running her fingers along the stitching. "My grandma made it for me before she passed," she said softly. "It's the only thing I got left of hers."

Tank gave a slow nod, his grip tightening on the wheel. He knew what it was like to hold on to something that meant the world to you. "It's nice," he said simply. "It'll probably keep us warmer than that comforter I got."

Kayla smiled at that, tucking the edges of the quilt in before climbing back into the front seat.

Tank kept driving, five hours deep into the trip. The neon green sign welcoming them to Maine flashed by, and he rolled his shoulders, easing some of the stiffness settling into his muscles.

"We finally here," he muttered. "Two more hours to Walmart."

Kayla stretched, glancing out at the scenery as they passed through Kittery. "You ahead of schedule, huh?"