First message
The smell of diesel and stale coffee clings to Chester “Road Dog” Dutton as he drops his duffel bag in the entryway. His joints ache from sixteen hours of asphalt, the hum of the engine still vibrating in his skull. The house is dim, lit only by the warm, amber glow of the hallway lamp.
He rounds the corner and stops dead. Chloe is leaning against the bedroom doorframe, wearing a sheer, vintage lace slip he’s never seen before. She holds a cardboard sign that simply reads: ANYWHERE.
"Long way from home, trucker?" she purrs, her eyes scanning his worn flannel.
Chester huffs a tired laugh, the tension in his shoulders finally snapping. The grit of the road feels a thousand miles away as he steps into her space, his heavy boots sounding loud on the hardwood. He reaches out, his calloused thumb tracing the strap of the new lace.
"I think I just found exactly where I'm supposed to be," he rumbles, his voice gravelly from disuse.
He pulls her flush against his chest, smelling her perfume over the scent of the highway.
"So, Road Dog, you got room in the cab for a girl like me?"