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“Yeah, well. I won’t make that mistake again.” Her green eyes met his, and she tried to give him a reassuring smile, those dimples almost smacking him in the face.
The blaring of a horn brought both of their gazes back to the road.
Just as a yellow school bus headed straight for them.
Chapter Eight
Payton was already jerking the steering wheel to the right to avoid the bus that had careened across the lines of the two-way road and entered their lane when Cruz grabbed it and yanked it harder. She slammed on the brake and held her breath as time slowed down.
She waited for the sound of crashing metal and shattering glass. But the only noise was the screeching of brakes followed by a loud crack that came from somewhere under the car. Then the car was still, even if her heart was hammering away. The acrid smell of burning rubber was in the air and a glance in the rearview mirror showed a long smudge of tire tracks on the road’s surface.
Slowly she turned to Cruz, whose hands were still resting on the dash in front of him, as if he’d been bracing for the worst.
“What the hell were they thinking?” he said and turned to face her. “You okay?”
She nodded. “Think so. But my heart may have stopped beating for a minute there.”
Someone was pounding outside on her window and she jumped. Her heart raced back up as she dreaded what she might find outside the car. Maybe some angry driver who was ready to ream her for her careless driving. Even if, at this point, she was pretty certain she hadn’t been at fault.
But the face of an older man, with white tufts of hair standing straight out above his ears, perspiration beading down the smooth top of his head, and wide blue eyes staring back at her on the other side of the glass, looked worried. Not angry. She exhaled in relief.
Cruz stepped out of the car and greeted the guy as she took some breaths to calm herself. From the rear view mirror she could see a whole busload—literally—of people climbing out into the street and heading in their direction. Steeling herself, she unbuckled her seatbelt and, on shaking legs, climbed out of the car.
“Are you two okay? I can’t believe how close that was,” the old man was saying. “This dog came out of nowhere and before I could think, I jerked the steering wheel to avoid it. Almost took you two out in the process.” The guy rubbed the balding circle at the top of his head.
A woman with short brown hair and a long floral skirt, somewhere possibly in her late fifties, came over and surrounded Payton with her arms and the sweet distinctive scent of Juicy Fruit chewing gum. “We’re just glad y’all weren’t hurt,” she said with a Texan twang. She pulled away and stared hard into Payton’s face, as if looking for some hidden injury. “Are you okay, hon?”
“I think so. Just a little shaken.”
“Appreciate your stopping though,” Cruz said and shook the man’s hand.
“Least I could do. Why don’t you turn the engine? Let’s make sure everything is running okay. Wouldn’t want to leave you two alone by the road here without knowing everything’s in tip-top shape,” the older driver said.
“Good point,” Cruz said and slid into the driver’s side.
“These narrow roads are downright chilling,” the woman said to Payton. “Why, since we left Puerto Vallarta earlier we’ve been scrunched between two semis as we rode through the mountain pass. And even then several cars came up and passed us, despite the traffic still coming from the other side. I’ve been biting my nails since we left.”
Cruz turned the key and a horrible grinding noise started. He tried again but with the same result.
A new fear gripped Payton. What was wrong with their car? It had to be okay. How were they going to get to the dinner tonight? Heck, forget the dinner, what about the wedding tomorrow?
It had to be okay.
Cruz and a couple of the men walked to the front of the car and lifted the hood, tinkering around inside. Fifteen minutes later, there were various diagnostics offered but the conclusion was the same.
The car wasn’t going anywhere.
Panic swept through her as she caught Cruz’s gaze. He seemed to be reassuring her with that dark, confident stare. He nodded. “We just need to get it into a shop. That’s all, Payton. I’ll call someone now.”
“We’re heading into the town of Tequila,” the bus driver said. “It’s only a few miles away. We’d be happy to give you two a ride.” Payton remembered spotting a sign just a few minutes back mentioning the town. “I’m sure you could find a garage there. We’re performing there tonight as part of a celebration one of the distilleries is hosting to kick off the introduction of a new line.”
“That would be much appreciated,” Cruz said and nodded to the group. Looking back to her, he said, “We’ll find a shop in town that can send someone out to get the car. I’ll also call the rental office and see if there are any other options. It’ll work out.”
She did feel better at his assurance. A hand wrapped around her arm. “Payton? That’s an intriguing name. Love it. I’m Bev. My husband, Lenny, you’ve met,” she said, pointing to the semi-balding driver with white tufts of hair. “We’ll make more introductions once we’re off the road. Why don’t you grab your things and we’ll get loaded back onto the bus.”
Infinitely grateful for the couple—even if they were the cause of their current condition—Payton smiled back. A space was cleared behind Bev’s seat near the front of the bus. Another woman introduced as Pat, joined Bev on the seat, and they turned fully around to stare at the newcomers. Cruz snagged the aisle seat, his bulk needing the space to sit comfortably, his arms folded in front of him.
“So where you two from?” Bev asked, looking back and forth between them. Stoic, serious Cruz was back, and Payton sensed he would leave the talking to her.
