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Eastern Oregon is bone dry, just like my gas tank.

Jordan:

Running out of gas on the deserted highway of eastern Oregon is bad enough, discovering that the only gas station for miles around is as out of gas as my motorcycle is worse.

Looks like I’m camping here for the duration.

At least the guy who owns the station is smokin’ hot, maybe a bone dry tank isn’t all that bad after all.

Stryker:

There’s not another gas station for 70 miles in any direction and since you can’t pump your own gas in this state, it’s not unheard of to find some kid camped by his dirt bike next to my pumps when I open up in the morning. Too bad I gotta go out there and tell him the station is as dry as his bike’s tank.

I ain’t gonna lie– finding out the kid by my pumps this morning is a stunning girl goes a long way to making up for the business I’m losing out on.

It’s just a short term thing. Jordan lives a thousand miles away and neither of us are looking for anything serious anyway.

When the tanker truck shows up and Jordan rides out of my life forever, I start realizing just how isolated this place is. Just how cold the nights get and just how long I’ve been living out here with no one but the dog to keep me company, thinking that’s the way I liked it.

I have to go after her, get back the girl that made this place feel like a home and convince her to become the wife I never thought I wanted.

***

Quick author note: I wrote Bone way back in 2017— when it was literally illegal to pump your own gas in the state of Oregon. That’s changed since I came very close to camping by a gas pump till the station opened in the morning, so I get that if you read this book after 2023 or so, you might be confused. Just go with it.