Shayla Nelson thanked every star in the universe that she had a good grip on the metal arms holding the rearview mirror out to the side of Travis Cooper’s stinky dump truck. The man himself smelled like he’d rolled in manure and then old, wet grass. But those eyes…
She drew in a breath and hopped to the ground, repeating her prayer of thanksgiving for the trail boots she wore. She’d just introduced these boots into the market, and they were selling really well. Better than even she’d expected, despite the marketing money she’d put behind their launch.
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