He jabbed at the fire again, this time wishing he could take his frustrations out on the burning embers. How dare they dance so beautifully when he was sitting right there, hurting.
He glanced back at her trailer again and saw her curtains move. Were they open before and she just closed them? Was she peering out, watching him sitting in the firelight?
He studied her windows, hoping to see her shadow just one more time. He found his breath coming in shaky gasps as he waited.
Her door slowly opened, and he could just make our her form standing inside the darkened trailer. He stared, hoping…wishing that she’d come out and join him. Even if it was to just sit and stare at the fire.
He squinted past the firelight, trying to see into the darkness of her trailer. Just one glimpse was all he wanted.
Simon’s heart skipped a beat when she appeared in the doorway. She glanced from side to side then motioned to him with her finger. As he stood, he realized she was wearing the same thin nightgown that she had worn before.
He nearly stumbled as he crossed the open campground and hovered just outside her open door. “You beckoned,” he whispered.
Veronica leaned out of the doorway again and for a brief moment, he could see her form silhouetted beneath the thin gown she wore. “You gave her the sleeping pills?”
He nodded. “Per your order.”
She smiled slightly then disappeared back into the trailer. “Don’t just leave the door open.”
Simon climbed onto the step of the trailer and glanced around the campground once more. He stepped inside and pulled the door shut behind him. “Vee, I—”
“Don’t talk,” she whispered as she pulled him to her.
16
Hatcher yawned as he stepped out of the truck. “This shouldn’t take long.” He shut the door and reached into the back for the siphoning hose.
Missy turned in the seat and watched him as he stuffed one end of the hose into the semi’s saddle tank then wiped at the other end. “You’re not gonna suck on that, are ya?”
Hatcher paused and gave her a stupid look. “How else am I going to get the diesel out?”
She laughed as she pushed the door open. “For crying out loud.” She sauntered around the truck and climbed the incline of the ditch. “I’ll give ya credit for one thing. You parked that big assed truck lower than the rig.” She grabbed the hose from his hand and ‘tsk’d’ at him. “Tell me you got another hose.”
Hatcher raised a brow then shook his head. “Just this one, I think.”
She reached into her back pocket and whipped out a folding knife. She sliced about eighteen inches off of the clear tubing and folded her knife back up. “Find me a rag or something.”
Hatcher stared at her as though she’d lost her marbles but rifled through the big toolbox. “Does it have to be clean?” He held up a red shop rag with oil stains on it.
“Nope.” She snatched it from his hand and turned toward the rig. “Stuff that end in the fuel tank.” She shoved the shorter hose into the saddle tank then began stuffing the shop rag around the two hoses. She glanced back at him and noticed that he had the hose in the bed of the truck. “I said the fuel tank.”
“This is the fuel tank.” He gave her a crooked smile. “This thing has a giant auxiliary tank in the bed.”
“Oh.” She shrugged then grabbed the shorter hose. She slipped it into her mouth and began to blow hard. A moment later, diesel began running through the longer hose and filling the pickup.
“How’d you do that?” Hatcher asked as he shoved the hose deeper into the tank.
“I had a fella show me that trick years ago.” She sat on the step of the truck, holding the hose in the saddle tank. “It beats getting a mouth full of gas, don’t it?”
He leaned on the bed of the truck and nodded. “I’ll give ya props on that one. I wasn’t looking forward to gargling with diesel this early in the day.”
She sighed and leaned back against the semi. “So how much further?”
Hatcher shrugged. “We’re probably close to halfway. If you see a little tan Jeep parked between the highways, that’s a pretty good indicator that we’re getting close.”
She raised a brow at him. “You gave up a Jeep to bring that thing?”
“It wasn’t a real Jeep. It was this funky compact thing.” He gave her a droll look. “My buddy picked it out for the mileage.”
“Right.” She gave him a knowing look. “Which explains why you dumped it for this thing.”
“This thing runs on diesel.” He nodded toward the semi. “Those things are stranded dead on the highways everywhere. Plus, diesel stays good a lot longer than gasoline.”
“Just add rubbing alcohol,” she quipped. “Gas absorbs water from the air and rubbing alcohol helps burn the water out.” She gave him another wide smile. “Same guy, different trick.”
Hatcher chuckled as he peered into the auxiliary fuel tank. “So who was this guy?”
Her smile faded somewhat and she shrugged. “A friend.” She looked up and met his inquiring gaze. “He was more like an adopted uncle. Close friend of my dad’s.”
Hatcher decided not to pry and pulled the hose up slightly, measuring the depth of fuel. “We’re getting close here.”
Missy pulled the short hose from the tank and grabbed the oily shop rag. “Say when.”
Hatcher nodded. “That should be good. We’ll have plenty.”
She pulled the hose from the saddle tank and lifted it in the air, letting the last of the yellow fuel drain. She handed him the pieces and he stowed them in the tool box. “I guess we’re ready to roll.”
He reached for the door of the truck when Missy snapped her
