It was the peak of summer.
Rain hammering down like the sky had sprung a leak.
“Excuse me… who’s the boss here?”
A soft, shaky voice floated in from the doorway.
Jensen Shaw had a winning move in his hand, ready to slam down his trump card and end the round. But the moment he glanced toward the door, his fingers froze mid‑air.
He had never seen a girl quite this striking.
Her outfit couldn’t have been more ordinary—just a white T‑shirt you could buy anywhere, black skinny pants, and simple white sneakers.
But somehow, on her, that plain combo hit different. Like you couldn’t look away even if you tried.
Jensen had seen plenty of pretty faces over the years, but a girl who looked amazing at first glance and still knocked the wind out of you with the second… that was rare.
“You need something?” he asked, pulling the cigarette from his lips. Smoke drifted lazily around the break room as he looked at the girl through the haze.
Jolene Summers tightened her grip on the small black bag she was carrying. Her voice was so soft it felt like a feather brushing his ears.
“I’m looking for the boss.”
For some reason, that gentle tone made Jensen’s ears feel oddly warm.
The break room was packed, and every guy in there had already stopped pretending to play cards, openly staring at the girl at the door.
This was a cargo station—365 days a year, nothing but rough men coming and going. A girl this fair‑skinned and clean‑cut? Of course everyone wanted a longer look.
Jensen frowned, his voice coming out low and rough. “That’d be me.”
Jolene flinched at the gruff tone, instinctively stepping back a couple of steps.
Jensen caught that. His eyes narrowed just a fraction.
“I… I wanted to ask if you guys are hiring drivers,” Jolene said, gathering her courage. “I want to apply for a truck driver position.”
The moment she finished speaking—
the entire break room fell dead silent.
A moment later, the whole room burst into loud laughter.
Caught in the noise, Jolene Summers felt her cheeks heat up. She shrank a little without meaning to, clearly nervous, but she’d already asked around — freight drivers got paid well, and the money came fast.
“I… I have a license,” Jolene added, her voice nearly swallowed by the waves of laughter.
Jensen Shaw sat with his legs loosely apart, a cigarette pinched between his fingers. His tone was lazy, almost bored. “I only hire men.”
Jolene straightened her back and forced herself to meet his eyes. “I really do have a license. And I’m not afraid of hard work. If you don’t believe me, just try me for a few days. If I’m not a good fit, you can just let me go. Okay?”
Her words actually made Jensen pause for a second.
The girl looked like she’d wandered into a den of wolves — jittery, startled, like a little rabbit that could bolt any moment. But she somehow still had the nerve to talk back to him like that.
Jensen leaned back in his chair, silent, just staring at her. The message couldn’t be clearer—
Say whatever you want. I’m not hiring a woman.
Jolene stayed at the doorway while the rain outside hammered the ground in sheets.
She tightened her grip, the plastic bag in her hand rustling softly.
“Boss… just give me a chance?”
There wasn’t anything wrong with her words themselves.
But to these men — a whole room of rough, rowdy drivers — it somehow sounded like she was being coy.
The guys all chimed in, teasing in chorus, “Boss~ just give her a chance!”
Jolene finally caught on, and her face went scarlet.
Jensen’s eyes never left her.
He watched that blush crawl from her pretty cheeks all the way to the tips of her ears, then down her pale neck, and finally—
Her big bright eyes shimmered with a thin, watery gloss.
Something in his chest tightened with an unfamiliar flicker of sympathy.
“Tsk.” Jensen Shaw let out an irritated click of his tongue.
Everyone shrank their necks and quickly went back to their cards.
His voice came out low and rough, eyes sweeping across Jolene Summers’ soft red lips as he said, cold as ice, “I said it already. We don’t hire women here. Move along.”
He pulled his gaze back, catching in the corner of his eye how the gust blowing through the doorway lifted the hem of her loose white tee, outlining a slim waist he could completely wrap one hand around.
“One four. Boss, you taking it?”
Jensen blanked for half a second and answered without thinking, “Pass.”
Silence dropped again.
“Boss? Then I’ll throw a three. Farmers win.”
The guy beside him leaned over. “Boss, what were you even playing? How do you pass on a four?”
Jensen flipped his cards face‑down, shoved them together with the rest, and tossed five hundred on the table. “I’m done.”
He rose without another word and headed out for a smoke.
Passing by Jolene, a faint scent drifted over—soap, clean and light, with a hint of lemon sweetness.
“Boss.” Jolene hurried after him. “I can really do it. Just give me a chance. If I don’t cut it, don’t pay me. Okay?”
Jensen leaned against the hallway wall, cigarette between his fingers. At six‑foot‑three, he made Jolene look like a tiny fledgling standing there beside him.
He thought, if he wanted to, he could pick her up with one hand and toss her ten meters away. But when he met those big, watery eyes staring up at him, every impulse just… stalled.
Jensen actually mustered a bit of patience. “You saw it just now. This place is full of men. I can’t even arrange a place for you to stay. We run long‑haul trips—days and nights on the road. You’re a girl. This job will chew you up.”
“I can do it. I’m not afraid of hard work,” Jolene said quickly, forcing down her fear. “Just let me try.” Afraid he’d shut her down again, she blurted, “I won’t take any pay the first few days. I’ll run the trips for free, okay? If it doesn’t work out, you tell me to leave and I’ll walk. I swear I won’t bother you.”
Jensen’s patience evaporated.
He frowned, annoyed, turning fully toward her, his large frame casting a heavy shadow over her.
“You not getting what I’m saying?”
“We don’t hire women here. We’re not family, not friends. I’m not signing myself up for trouble. No need. Now do you get it?”
