Randall Riches

His cousins, the girls, wore jeans and T-shirts, too, but they worked on their hair for a quarter hour, at least. Their nails were manicured and polished. Even their toenails. They had their ears pierced and wore different earrings all the time.

In their closets, they had dress-up clothes, too. Fancy shoes. He was beginning to suspect Sam didn’t have much more than he’d seen.

He wondered if she’d asked about the traffic near Rawhide because she was planning on hitchhiking back into town. As if he’d let her. But that worried him most of all. Keeping Sam safe. He didn’t want her running into another Brad, wanting her, taking advantage of her.

Maybe he’d ask his dad’s advice.

He wasn’t asking Uncle Jake. He’d suggest Rich marry the woman. He didn’t intend to marry for a long time. He was only twenty-six. His father and Jake had both waited until they were thirty or so. Brett and Chad had married earlier. Because Jake had done some matchmaking. He was still fond of playing those games.

Of course he’d gotten caught in his own trap. After all his brothers had married, their wives had conspired against him. Not that Jake complained. He and B.J. were perfect for each other.

Rich leaned his head back on the pillow and closed his eyes. He was a little surprised at how tired he was, since he’d slept over ten hours last night. But it would pass the time.

When the truck pulled off the road about three hours later, he woke up. First he checked his watch. Then he looked at Sam. “What’s up?”

“I’m getting gas. I hope you still have money.”

“Sure,” he said, frowning. Leaning toward her, he saw the gas tank registered half-full. “Is the truck driving okay?”

“Yes.”

“So you just wanted to fill up?”

“Yes. Is that a sin?”

“Nope, but—”

“I have to stop. Coffee goes right through me!” she snapped, her cheeks flushed.

He grinned. “Well, why didn’t you say so? I could use a pit stop, too.” He chuckled as she glared at him. So independent, but embarrassed about having to stop. She was a character.

When he returned to the truck, she was waiting for him.

“What are we going to do about lunch?” he asked.

She stared at him. “It’s not even noon yet.”

“In half an hour. They’ve got some barbeque sandwiches inside. We could get some and eat while we drive. Or there are some picnic tables under those trees.”

“All right, I can get them when I pay for the gas,” she abruptly said and held out a hand for money.

“Naw, I’ll get them. You stretch your legs.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but he stared her down. He wouldn’t let her get the sandwiches because he knew she’d use her own money to pay for hers. He headed back to the little grocery store. Inside he paid for the gas and four sandwiches. He added chips and cold sodas. Then he picked up a bag of Hershey’s Kisses. He’d bet Sam didn’t treat herself often. He added a couple of apples so he could say he chose healthy things.