His beautiful tanned skin didn't look like it belonged in Brattleboro. His jet black hair was short on the sides and longer on top, the army cut. He wore fitted Levis, caked with dirt, and tan workboots that came above his ankles. His shirt was just tight enough that it clung to his body. His small blue eyes were tucked back in his head, but when he got excited, they immediately lit up. Outside of his truck, he looked like a regular country boy. But inside the rigged-up white Chevy, his pride and joy, he looked like a true hick – the most beautiful hick I'd ever seen.