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“Tomorrow? No, no, no, no, no. Tomorrow I’m supposed to be enjoying a day on the bright beaches of Puerto Vallarta. Killing time until my best friend’s rehearsal dinner. In Puerto Vallarta. Toasting the happy couple. In Puerto Vallarta. I’m not supposed to be catching a flight heading north. South,” Payton said slowly, enunciating the word in case the woman didn’t understand, which didn’t earn her any favors from the daggers the woman was shooting in her direction. “I need to head south.”
It wasn’t hard to miss the waft of alcohol on Payton’s breath. How much could she possibly have consumed in the short amount of time they’d been airborne?
The ticket agent pinned on a fake smile. “Yes, ma’am. I’m well aware where Mexico is. But your best option if you plan on flying to your destination is getting a flight into a bigger airport with several outgoing flights.
Payton settled her hands, palms down, on the ticket counter and took in a long measured breath. Then exhaled. “Would you mind terribly seeing—once I get to Dallas tomorrow—what flights you could book me on that would get me to Puerto Vallarta by five o’clock?” At least she’d managed to sound reasonable.
The woman smiled again and ducked her head, clearly not buying the suddenly sweet act of the crazy lady in front of her. She turned her attention to her screen, her fingers clacking away for another minute.
Cruz thought about interrupting the exchange, but knowing Payton, she wouldn’t believe it unless she heard it for herself.
A moment later, the woman’s mouth pursed tighter, and she glanced uneasily at him then Payton. “There seems to be a little difficulty getting you on an available flight from Dallas-Fort Worth to Puerto Vallarta tomorrow. All three of our flights are at capacity. As you’re probably aware, March is a pretty busy time of year for any beachside destination. I can place you on standby, but the earliest confirmed seat I have would be…Saturday.”
“Saturday?” Payton shook her head. “No. No. That’s not going to work. I have to be there by tomorrow. I have to give my best friend the last night of her life as a single woman. We’ve been planning this since we were twelve. I’m her maid of honor. I have to be there by tomorrow. Friday.” He could hear the edge of hyster
ia in her voice, as could the woman who was glancing around her, as if for support.
This was probably where he should try and intervene. Cautiously, he tapped Payton’s arm. “Hey. I think I have a solution for us.”
She turned around, her eyes widened when she saw him, then narrowed in suspicion. “Unless you’re about to confide that you’re wearing tights and a cape under your clothes and can fly us both out of here, pronto, then maybe you can wait. I’m not giving up this place in line, buddy.”
He smiled at the ticket agent. “Perhaps you can indulge us for a moment, but is there any chance you can guarantee us a seat on any U.S. or Mexican airline that will arrive in Puerto Vallarta by tomorrow night?”
This time the woman delivered a wide smile at him. “I’m afraid not.”
Satisfied, he looked back down at Payton. “So are you ready to hear me out now?”
She looked disgruntled but gave a terse nod. She threw an annoyed glance over her shoulder at the ticket woman before he dragged her away.
“Look, Payton, I’m as invested as you are in getting to Puerto Vallarta in time to see my brother get married. But unless we want to spend the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours sitting in airports hoping to snag a seat on an already oversold flight, then we need to come up with another plan.”
She folded her arms in front of her, looking as stubborn as a mule.
Damn his brother. It was his fault Cruz was on babysitting patrol. If not for his promise, he’d be enjoying a cocktail on the beach right now, having arrived the day before. Or at the very least, be making his way to the nearest bus terminal, not giving a second thought to the beautiful but aggravating blonde terrorizing the airline staff.
But he had promised.
And to be honest, helping Payton, Dick Eastman’s future daughter-in-law, might give him the boost he needed to settle his business deal in time for breaking ground in early June.
“You can release my arm now. I’m quite capable of holding myself upright.”
He raised his brow at that comment, deciding not to mention her near fall earlier today, and released her arm. She tottered for a moment but stayed on her feet. “We have two options. One would be to cross the border, rent a car, and drive ourselves to Puerto Vallarta. It’s almost nine hundred miles and, driving straight through, should take us around fifteen hours. Second option. We could buy two tickets at the bus station in Nuevo Laredo that would take us to Puerto Vallarta. Even with the added four or so hours, my choice would be to take the bus. We could just relax and do some reading without any of the stress of driving.”
“Take the bus?” This time her eyes nearly bugged out of her head. “Are you a lunatic? Haven’t you seen Romancing the Stone? Don’t you know that bus rides for foreign women in third world countries never end well?”
He managed not to roll his eyes. “Payton, that was a movie, and it took place in South America, not Mexico. The bus system in Mexico is extremely reliable and safe.”
She smiled almost indulgently at him. “I can assure you that no matter how desperate I become, I will not be leaving my life in the hands of an unknown bus driver who’s not licensed or certified by any governmental authority I’ve heard of. And if I’m not stabbed first, how can I trust that someone won’t try to plant drugs on me during the trip? Didn’t you hear about that American woman last year who was held in a Mexican prison for allegedly transporting drugs they found taped under her bus seat? No. If we’re traveling, it’s going to be by car.”
He thought about mentioning the fact that the roads in the northern border cities were dangerous to any person, American or otherwise, whether on a bus or private vehicle, but didn’t think that would be productive to their discussion.
She took a step forward, smiling deeply enough for him to see those dimples again. “I appreciate your concern, Cruz, really. And if you’re not up to it, I’m more than happy to drive us there myself. I’ve been driving since I was sixteen and am quite capable. I’ve driven to Vegas more times than I can count, and that’s a six-hour drive, easily. You have nothing to be concerned with.” This time she reached out her hand and patted his chest.
He glanced down at her hand, so pale and soft against the dark color of his shirt. It was an innocent gesture, one he’d seen before when she talked to men, using small touches to manipulate them into giving her what she wanted.
But she’d never touched him before. And he hated the alarming way the intimacy made him feel. Like he wanted more.
Not a chance. This was Payton.
