The ETA From You to Me Read Online Free PDF Page A

didn’t know someone could change a tire that fast.”
     
    Confused, Grant brought the mic back up, pressing down on the button. “I didn’t have a flat, we’re hooking my jeep back to take it to the shop. Engine overheated.”
     
    “Clayton was just on a tire change about fifteen minutes ago,” David elaborated.
     
    “Oh…” Grant said to the inside of the truck, absently sticking the mic back onto the cradle while Clayton returned to the side of the truck, pulling a lever that dragged the jeep back onto the dollies. David’s words struck him as odd, to a point where Grant couldn't help but wonder about the implications of Clayton rushing to his rescue.
     
    Oblivious to Grant's inner turmoil, Clayton finished hooking the jeep up and headed back for the truck, climbing in with a grunt of exertion. He reached for the mic, not even giving Grant a second glance as he paged the office. “49 is in tow to the shop to drop off and fuel up.”
     
    Clayton shifted out of park, glancing out the window to pull onto the highway again when Alyse’s voice came from the radio. “What were your miles for that tire change? You got out of the truck before I could ask you.”
     
    Expressionless, Clayton turned to grab the mic. “7 miles.”
     
    Grant couldn’t help but to stare just a tiny bit. Not once when working with Clayton had he ever known the man to forget to give his times or miles, especially not so long after the run itself. Grant had a feeling Clayton knew that Grant was aware of this, because he refused to even look away from the road when he began driving.
     
    It wasn’t until they were halfway back to the shop when Clayton finally glanced over at Grant to see that he was still being stared at. His glare was particularly intense and unflinching, apparently enough to make Clayton feel at least a smidgeon awkward, it seemed.
     
    “What?”
     
    “Did they tell you I was in an accident? Is that why you hurried?” Grant blurted. Clayton stiffened, and words practically spewed from Grant's mouth. “Dude, I could totally see Alyse doing that. She loves bullshitting everyone to get in ETAs and shit. I mean, not that I don’t do that when necessary, but--come on, you didn’t have to bust your ass to pick me up. It wasn’t like I was going anywhere.”
     
    By the time Grant was finished rambling, Clayton had shifted in his seat a good two times, lips pursed into a tight frown. “The faster I got you, the faster I get back to the shop, go home, eat, and sleep before my on-call shift.”
     
    Grant glanced at the clock, guilt hitting him like a pillowcase full of loose change. “Aw, dude. You totally got off a half hour ago, did you?” Grant whined, gesturing to the truck’s radio. “See, that’s where you should have gone the typical douche bag trucker route and just had me sit my ass there for a good hour or so instead of having to take extra time to do stuff like this.”
     
    Clayton’s pursed lips were starting to look a little bit like he was biting back a smile. Grant continued on, arms flailing just a tiny bit. “I mean, not that I don’t appreciate it--because I totally do, man--I totally love that I’m in this nice, air conditioned truck and not sweating my nipples off outside, but now I feel all guilty and stuff because you totally are staying overtime because of me.” at some point, Grant was pretty sure he was speaking in nothing but run-on sentences, half of what he said being drowned out by radio chatter between the other drivers.
     
    Clayton’s hands were clenching the steering wheel just shy of violently, his knuckles stained white from the pressure. There was a small tick in his jaw, making it look like Clayton was in physical pain at the idea of possibly telling Grant that he didn’t mind being nice by going out of his way just to pick up their stranded dispatcher.
     
    Grant decided to save Clayton any more agony by blurting, “Let me buy you something for dinner as