Page 34 of The Love Bus

UNDER THE SUN

A t our first stop in Arches National Park, I stepped off the bus and immediately felt the heat swirl around my legs. It wasn’t just hot, it was aggressive.

And while others marched off, I hesitated, considering the fact that I’d completely forgotten to grab extra water before leaving the restaurant.

Oh, and I’d had that margarita.

Note to self: next town—buy a water bottle.

Also: a hat.

And while I’m at it, shoes that were actually designed for this kind of terrain.

Because already, I could feel tiny rocks wedging themselves under the leather straps of my sandals. While most of the group headed for the trail, I crouched to dig one out. Then did the same with the other one.

By the time I stood, everyone had moved on—except for Noah and Mrs. Grady, who was working her way through a very thorough sunscreen routine.

Which wasn’t a bad idea. One I hadn’t thought of.

“You okay there?” he called.

“Yeah. Rock in my shoe.” I gave him a halfhearted wave.

We were friends now, sure. But I didn’t expect him to spend every moment with me.

And that was fine.

He was here with his mom. I was here...

Alone.

Also fine. Totally, completely, one-hundred-percent fine.

Even Babs—who’d basically pinky-sworn we’d stick together on day one—had left me in the dust.

Literally.

So what was I waiting for?

I squinted up at the sky, briefly tempted to wait it out on the bus. But no. There was no way I was missing this. I’d promised Ashley pictures, and honestly? This place was incredible—in a landscape-of-a-different-planet sort of way.

I slipped on my sunglasses and took in the scene.

Most of our group was already halfway to the arch, Roger beside Helen, aiming his vintage camera at anything that moved, and Josie looking like she was attempting another Facebook Live.

A few yards behind them, Patty, Denise, Ed, Eddie, and Babs ambled along in a looser, more leisurely cluster—until a sudden gust of wind lifted Babs’s hat clean off her head.

Morty’s hat.

It floated up, up, up, somersaulting, before it landed, hovered, skittering away from the trail. Just rolling like a tumbleweed.

Away from Babs.

The group kind of twirled around, a few even lurched towards it, but their efforts, though well-meaning, were feeble.

Poor Babs stretched out her hand, as if willing it to come back to her, but it was already too late.

Without thinking, I dug in my heels and took off after it.

Off the trail, the ground shifted from firm to unpredictable. Loose rocks, tufts of dry weeds, and brittle branches clawed at my sandals. A lizard darted out ahead of me.

If there were snakes—or anything else hiding in the brush—they’d have to move. I wasn’t stopping.

I didn’t blink. I didn’t look away. I kept my eyes on that hat.

Was I faster than the other would have been? Sure.

Was I going to catch it?

Not a chance.

But I kept chasing it anyway.

Then—behind me—the sound of quicker footsteps.

“I’ve got it,” Noah called, and the next thing I knew, he was flying past me.

He vaulted clean over a cactus—one that would have eaten me if I’d made it that far—and with infuriating ease, snatched the hat off the ground, before it made one final push for Mexico.

From the distance, a cheer went up from Babs and her cluster of travel buddies.

I would have been more enthusiastic if I wasn’t so out of breath.

“Thank you, my darlings!” Babs yelled. “I’ll get it from you at the arch!”

“You got it!” Noah called back.

I stayed where I was, hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed even Mrs. Grady had passed me, rejoining the group without much effort.

Meanwhile, my left heel was starting to sting—probably a blister. An ache was creeping in behind my eyes, and my shoulders had begun to burn under the relentless sun.

And I really, really wished I’d brought some water.

But of course I hadn’t.

Because I hadn’t thought it through.

When Noah reached me, I straightened, ignoring the temporary spots in my vision.

“It was her late husband’s,” I said, my voice rough.

He nodded, solemn, looking unfairly good in that worn baseball cap and aviator sunglasses.

The picture of freaking health. I mean, he didn’t sweat, he glowed.

Then, in what I know was just simple concern, he said, “You really need some sunscreen.”

“I know.”

“Did you bring any water?”

“I had some earlier…”

I trailed off, because whatever the end of that sentence was, it wasn’t going to sound good. And honestly, I didn’t need the reminder of how unprepared I was.

I was already acutely aware.

Instead of saying more, Noah began slipping out of the straps of a backpack I hadn’t even noticed he was wearing.

“You were a boy scout, weren’t you?” I asked.

He peered over the rim of those sunglasses. “Yeah, why?”

“Lucky guess.”

Without missing a beat, he reached into the pack and pulled out his water bottle. “Drink.”

I blinked. “But?—”

“I have plenty,” he said, because of course he did.

“Just one sip.” I took the bottle. “You really are annoyingly prepared.”

And after I downed a few gulps, he was offering me his sunscreen.

I glanced down at the uncapped tube: SPF 50. My skin was already tingling from the heat, so why did I feel like a sunburn would be less painful than letting Noah… handle me?

What was this?

Resentment? Maybe. But not at him. Not really.

I felt weirdly exposed. His offering of help felt like something else. Like it was proof I was failing.

At everything.

“I’m fine.” It came out sharper than I meant.

Noah just cocked an eyebrow. “So, you’re already wearing protection?”

I didn’t answer.

Because, no, of course, I wasn’t. When I packed for this trip, I’d been lucky to remember to bring underwear. I hadn’t exactly been in a rational headspace.

I crossed my arms. “I’ll manage.”

He gave a tight exhale. “Just take the damn sunscreen. You’re already turning red.”

Why, oh, why, couldn’t I just take the sunscreen and say think you?

“I don’t need you to take care of me,” I snapped. “I’m not one of your pets.”

The corner of his mouth lifted, but it wasn’t a real smile. “Good to know. Because I forgot to bring the fish flakes.”

I closed my eyes for half a second.

This was not about him. It was me just trying to remember what it felt like to stand on my own two feet.

Silence stretched between us, just buzzing at the edges

Then, without comment, Noah held the sunscreen out again.

I hesitated. Then I took it.

And he didn’t say anything. Didn’t smirk. Didn’t even blink. Just waited quietly while I squeezed a blob into my palm and began rubbing it onto my arms, more briskly than necessary.

“Don’t forget your face,” he murmured, still calm. No judgment.

I let out a shaky sigh. Then I dabbed some across my cheeks and nose.

“Happy now?” I asked, not unkindly. Just...tired.

“Ecstatic,” he said, his voice as dry as the desert around us.

I handed the bottle back, and he accepted it without fuss. Then, of course, because he couldn’t help himself, he pulled off his cap.

“You should wear this.”

I blinked at it. Then stepped back. “No.”

“No?” One brow lifted.

“I’m not taking your hat.”

He let out a soft laugh. “Why? Out of spite?”

“Because...” I don’t know how to accept your help without feeling like I’m going backward. “Because I don’t want to.”

He tilted his head, considering me.

Then he eased the cap back onto his head. “Let me know if you change your mind.”

No push. No pressure. Just space.

I didn’t know what to say to that.

And before I could fumble out a simple thank you, I realized how quiet it was. In chasing Morty’s hat, we’d wandered well off the trail—and the rest of the group was already nearing the arch.

Without another word, I turned back toward the path. Noah fell into step beside me.

It was supposed to be the shortest hike of the day, but the heat and sand made every step feel heavier than it should’ve. A bead of sweat-slicked sunscreen slid into my eye, stinging like hell, but I kept going. I didn’t stop. Didn’t complain.

Still hadn’t thanked him.

Noah didn’t push. Didn’t fill the silence. And that somehow made it worse, because it wasn’t coldness. It was calm. Like he’d already shifted gears and turned his thoughts elsewhere.

Which only made me feel guiltier.

“I…” I started, my voice scratchy from the heat.

Noah glanced over. Just patient.

I scrambled for something—anything—that wasn’t sorry I was a jerk.

“Is your mom having fun?”

Not quite an apology. But it was something.

“I think she is. Babs is good for her.”

“Babs is good for everyone.” I exhaled, and a little of the tightness in my chest eased.

Noah could have gone ahead, but instead, he’d adjusted to my pace, which, thanks to my sandals, was a reluctant shuffle at best.

“Are you having fun?” he asked.

“I am,” I said, barely stopping myself before admitting I had had the most fun with him. But… “I didn’t expect our group to be so…colorful.” I forced a laugh.

“They are, aren’t they?”

Already, he was willing to let things go back to normal, willing to move on if I was. I really, really owed this man some sort of explanation. I wish I knew what that explanation was.

I’m sorry for being such a bitch. Just say it, Luna!

In the distance, I could see Josie holding her phone in front of her, talking into it like an on-the-scene reporter.

“I hope I’m like that when I’m that age. Healthy enough to travel,” I said instead.

“And smart enough to be open to new ideas—to learn new things.”

I glanced over and nodded, but in that short second where I wasn’t watching my steps, I slipped and would have splatted on my face if Noah hadn’t grabbed my elbow to steady me.

He released it just as quickly—probably afraid I was going to bite his head off again.

Honestly, I didn’t blame him.

“Thanks,” I huffed. But right away I pointed at Roger, who had actually convinced Tay to pose for him.

“I’ve been horrible about taking pictures.

” I still wasn’t sure if my failure to document this trip was a good or a bad thing.

“I don’t have any of the chapel. Or the hotel.

I didn’t even try getting a shot of the orbs.

I definitely should have tried to catch one in that closet. ”

Noah didn’t laugh like I thought he would, and when I turned to look at him, he was rubbing the back of his neck. “About the ghosts in your closet…”

There was something in his voice I hadn’t heard before.

“Don’t tell me you lied and there really was something in there.” I laughed.

He didn’t.

“No. But...” He winced a little. “I have a confession to make.”

I blinked. “ You have a confession to make?”

He stopped in the middle of the trail, his mouth pulling to the side like he was debating whether to actually say it.

“You did hear something that night. In your hotel room.”

I straightened. “I know I did.”

Noah sighed, staring into the distance. We really needed to keep moving before Tay came to hunt us down. But when his eyes landed on me again, they looked…guilty?

“It was me.”

“It was you?” What? Why? “You knocked against the wall to scare me?”

He winced. “Not…intentionally.”

He certainly didn’t seem like the sort of guy who’d try scaring a woman who was traveling alone.

Noah opened his mouth, closed it again. Then, “I have…” He took his sunglasses off and pinched the bridge of his nose. When he looked like this—serious, distracted—the blue in his eyes stood out more than the gray. “I had a nightmare. Sometimes, I…thrash around a bit.”

That was not even close to what I expected.

“Oh.”

“I might have slammed my arm against the wall, and I should’ve told you that night, but…” He put his glasses back on, like this wasn’t a big deal. But I could tell it was.

And I had a feeling this wasn’t something he was eager to get into.

So I just nodded. “Was it because of the ghost stories?”

I expected a smirk. A smartass remark. Something cocky and insufferable.

I did not expect the haunted look—quick as a flash, gone before I could pin it down.

“Nah.” He jammed his hands into his pockets. “Work stuff.”

His face shuttered, and, yeah, I could’ve just let it go there, but it felt like this was something that maybe he needed to talk about.

He’d done listened to all my woes, after all.

“In the ER?” I asked.

“Yeah.” He was fidgeting, and I knew from sitting beside him for hours on end that Noah Grady was not a fidgeter.

Something niggled in the back of my mind—from his phone call. A meeting.

It was gradually becoming clear that Noah Grady’s life wasn’t as perfect as I’d imagined it.

If he wanted to talk, I was willing to listen. But I wouldn’t push.

So when he clamped his mouth shut, I just started walking again, and after a second, he fell into step beside me.

Neither of us spoke. And weirdly, it wasn’t awkward. It wasn’t uncomfortable.

And instead of peppering him with questions about a subject that obviously made him uncomfortable, my brain latched onto something completely unrelated.

“How did you know I put cilantro in my guacamole?”

His lips quirked, and I knew. Noah Grady had watched other videos from the show!

But why would he go to the trouble to do that? Boredom? Or maybe he wanted to see if I’d dumped any other dishes over Leo’s head.

Or did he search out the old videos for some other reason?

Before he could answer, the trail widened into a clearing, and we were surrounded by people again.

Tourists milled around the arch, snapping photos, chatting, pointing. The view stretched vast and unreal in front of us, the red rock curving into the sky like something out of a painting.

Noah held out a hand. “Give me your phone.”

I blinked. “What?”

“You wanted pictures, right?” His brows lifted.

Oh.

I could take my own pictures. I was perfectly capable of a selfie. But he was just…being nice.

I handed my phone over, and although it felt weird at first—to be posing for a picture alone instead of as one half of a couple—Noah was fast, snapping one with the horizon behind me, and before I even realized what was happening, one with Babs throwing up a peace sign.

She’d photobombed me.

It was perfect.