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“What is America like?” Christian asked.
She tilted her head. “Well, it’s not much different. Some parts look like this here.”
Christian scoffed.
She frowned at him. “What’s that for?”
He answered with a shrug. “That’s the most American response.”
“Oh really?”
They hit a cluster of rocks and the van bounced for a few seconds.
“Mm-hmm,” he replied. “Most Americans, at least the ones I’ve met, tend to think the world isn’t that much different from home.”
“And isn’t that right?” Olivia joked.
“Maybe, maybe not. My money’s on maybe not.” He turned and looked at her. “Don’t get me wrong, I think America is fascinating, but I also think the world tends to look different the farther away from home you get.”
Olivia nodded slowly and smiled. “You’re quite good, you know?”
She could almosthearhis smile. “That’s a pretty ambiguous compliment. Good at what?”
“It’s not a compliment, more of an observation. I mean, your English is quite good. So are those conversational skills you claimed earlier.”
“I’m glad we’ve found something to agree on.”
She laughed. “Although, so far, your bus is not on par with your service. At least it hasn’t run us off a cliff yet, so that’s good.”
She shuddered and rubbed her palms together.
“Does the heat work?” she asked and reached for one of the knobs. “It’s freezing.” Her eyes went to Christian, who turned to her. His eyes popped when he saw her touching the knob.
“Wait, don’t—” he tried to warn her, but was too late. The knob popped out and rolled under the seat. “It doesn’t work,” he said.
“I can see that,” Olivia countered.
“But she’s pretty reliable and sturdy,” he commented and tapped the dashboard. “I mean my van. She might be old and rusty, but she’s got a lot of fighting spirit and . . .”
Before he could finish his sentence, the van croaked and the engine stalled, guttering as it shook down the road until it slowed to a stop.
“Come on, come on,” Christian begged and turned the key, pumping the pedal as sweat lined his forehead. “Not now. Come milady. Start already.”
Olivia looked bewildered and pinched the edge of her seat, suddenly aware of the silent darkness around them. And the even darker woods.
Suddenly, the headlights flashed, and the engine squeezed out a few hopeful puffs. “Ha!” Christian let out an excited scream, but it was premature; the van bucked and hissed and died down almost instantly.
Christian clicked his tongue when thick smoke floated out of the hood.
“Uh oh,” he muttered.
“Uh oh?” Olivia asked nervously. “But the van’s been smoking all day.”
“Yeah,” he answered and scratched the back of his head. “But that’s the bad kind.”
He pushed open the door and stepped out, shaking his head. Olivia rubbed her arms and followed him out of the van. The hood was emitting enough heat to cook an egg.
“I can’t believe this.” Olivia rolled her eyes.
