Page 47 of Rescuing Mary

She shrugged at seeing his confused look. “You always said that when in a bar and not drinking, it was better to make it look like you were, simply to get people to leave you alone and not get on your case about it. This is what you usually order.”

Truck nodded. Yeah, he did say that. Of course, he didn’t remember telling the spitfire sitting next to him, but there was the whole missing-the-last-three-years-of-his-life thing. Instead of getting mired in self-pity, he was curious. Curious as to how well he knew Mary.

He was attracted to her, but it was more than her looks. He’d seen her head into the hallway and immediately recognized her as the woman from the steak place earlier that week. When he’d heard raised voices, he’d gotten concerned, and he and the others had made their way to check on her. If someone had been assaulting her, they’d have regretted it.

But instead of Mary being assaulted, she was verbally haranguing the skank who’d been hitting on him—and her words were a surprise. Not only because she was so staunchly defending him, which felt good, but because it was more than obvious she knew him. Very well.

Standing there listening to Mary give Ruth a verbal beat down, and not give one fuck that she was being a bitch as she did it, stirred something deep inside Truck. He’d spent much of his childhood letting people get away with rude remarks about his size. Even after he’d grown into his body and had been able to defend himself, he typically kept silent. After he’d been injured, the rude comments started up again, although this time mostly behind his back rather than to his face.

Even when his parents had been incredibly harsh to him when they’d come to visit him in the hospital, he’d bitten back the bitter words that were on the tip of his tongue.

It was just who he was. He’d never be the kind of man who would stand up for himself, for the simple reason that he knew he’d never change another person’s mind. But listening to this woman—Mary—say exactly what was on her mind was amazing.

Truck realized at that moment what had been lacking in most of his relationships in the past. The women weren’t strong enough to stand up to him. Or his friends. Or anyone, really. He intimidated most people. But apparently not Miss Mary. He felt excited that he’d known her before. He had an in to get to know her all over again.

“Thank you,” he told her. “You obviously know me pretty well.”

“I do.”

Truck grinned at her.

“Why are you smiling?” she asked.

“Because I’m fucking thrilled someone is being honest with me.”

“They mean well,” Mary told him.

“I know. But it’s still annoying. I’m not an idiot. I might not remember the last three years, but I’m assuming I didn’t live in a bubble. It’s extremely weird to have people smile at you and not know if they’re just being polite, or if you’re supposed to know them. I went to the grocery store the other day and the check-out lady smiled at me, and then engaged me in a ten-minute conversation. I still have no idea if she was just super friendly or if I know her from before.”

“That sucks,” Mary said.

“Yup. So thank you.”

“You’re welcome. But you should know, I’m not exactly going to tell you your entire three-year history tonight. We’ll work into it.”

“Good. That means you’ll have to see me again. And again. Don’t want to overload my poor brain and have it explode.”

Mary laughed. “Smooth, Trucker. Smooth.”

“Trucker?”

She blushed, and Truck thought it was the cutest fucking thing he’d ever seen. He had a feeling she didn’t blush much.

“Yeah, uh…it’s what I call you when you exasperate me. Or when I’m upset with you. Or when I just want to rile you up.”

It was Truck’s turn to laugh. “I take it you call me Trucker a lot then, huh?”

She shrugged. “Often enough.”

“I think I like it.”

Mary rolled her eyes. “Figures that you don’t remember the nickname, but the first time you hear it, you act just like you have every other time I’ve tried to annoy you by using it.”

“What’s your last name?” Truck asked, suddenly wanting to know everything about the fascinating woman in front of him.

For some reason, she looked away from him, then answered, “Weston.”

“Mary Weston. I like it,” he told her.