Page 44 of The Love Bus

GRINDING TO A HALT

“D id the bus just…hiccup?” I asked.

More jerking made me cringe.

“Sounded more like a burp. Or a fa?—”

“Don’t say it, Babs.” Mrs. Grady saved us all.

“That cannot be good,” Marla pointed out from her seat in front of us.

Up front, Joey was muttering something I couldn’t catch, and Tay was already leaning forward behind him, hovering over his shoulder.

Another jolt, followed by the unmistakable grinding of gears.

“You doing okay up there?” Babs called from across the aisle.

“Transmission’s running hot,” Joey sounded grim. “I need to pull over.”

Tay stood, steadying herself against one of the seats as the bus slowed. “Hang tight, folks.”

After a few seemingly endless minutes of catching and grinding, the bus gave one last shudder and coasted to a stop. The pullover wasn’t exactly a rest stop, just a gravel lot with a few warped picnic tables and a sun-bleached sign nearly swallowed by sagebrush.

Tall trees and steep drop-offs surrounded us.

Tay looked upward in a vaguely accusatory manner, like she thought the universe was testing her specifically.

Gripping the seat back, she took a deep breath and then plastered on her customer service smile once again.

“Okay,” she said between gritted teeth, “we’re just going to sit tight for a few minutes while Joey checks things out. Might be nothing.”

Her voice had the tone of someone who really hoped it was nothing but absolutely didn’t believe that for a second.

I leaned toward Noah, who was peering out the window. “How much do you know about engines?”

He gave me a sideways glance, lifting one brow. “You mean like...mechanical ones?”

“No, I meant like metaphorical engines,” I teased, deadpan.

“Not as much as Joe.” He shook his head. “I mean, I’ve always been more of a science geek.”

It was cute, seeing this hunky guy look a little embarrassed.

I nodded solemnly. “So you could keep someone alive on this bus, but you can’t keep the bus alive.”

“Exactly.” I’d never realized eyes could laugh before, but I was pretty sure Noah’s were.

Technically, we were stranded in the middle of nowhere. And I probably should’ve been more worried about that. But the truth?

All my attention was caught on the way Noah was looking at me. On the way it felt to share this unexpected connection in the middle of nowhere with him.

A smile tugged at my mouth.

I was about to say something else, but then Tay reappeared at the front and tapped the mic. “Okay, folks,” she said, the cheer in her voice noticeably wobblier. “So here’s the deal. Joey thinks it’s the transmission. He’s called it in, and help is officially on the way.”

Groans and muttered curses rippled through the bus.

“How long?” someone called.

“At least an hour,” Tay said, and then sighed. “Maybe more. So, in the meantime, we’re gonna take a little break. Feel free to stretch your legs, but don’t go too far, okay?”

“What about Mesa Verde?” Babs asked.

Tay hesitated. “I hate saying this, but…that’s probably off the table. We had a fourteen-hundred-hour slot for the ranger-led tour, and unless our little Love Bus miraculously heals itself within the next few minutes, there’s no way we’ll be able to make that.”

A chorus of disappointed sighs rose around us, followed by the shuffle of daypacks and sunhats as everyone began to gather their things.

I’d almost forgotten I was still wearing Noah’s jacket.

For a second, I considered keeping it just a little longer, but it was already too warm outside.

I slipped it off and handed it back, and he wordlessly tucked it into his backpack.

“But,” Tay added, her tone sharpening with that gritty, determined optimism I was beginning to recognize as a core personality trait, “we’re not letting a little transmission trouble ruin the day.

This is a beautiful spot, and the weather’s great, so…

relax, explore a little, and let’s make the most of it. ”

“Some of us have our leftovers from the mine,” Patty reminded the folks around us.

“This is going to make a wonderful video.” Josie sounded as chipper as ever. “So exciting!”

“I brought my cards!” Ed called out, patting his fanny pack. “Any brave souls want to warm up for Vegas?”

There were some scattered chuckles as passengers trickled into the aisle and off the bus and began claiming picnic tables.

One group seemed more than ready to take Ed up on his offer, gathering around his table while he cut a deck of cards, collecting all manner of things from their pockets and bags to use as a makeshift currency for their wagers.

A small group had gathered off to the side—mostly women, though a couple of gray-haired men were with them too.

They were pulling out knitting needles, crochet hooks, and colorful skeins of yarn.

Babs and Mrs. Grady drifted over. Noah’s mom looked more at ease than usual as she settled in and pulled out her growing stack of granny squares.

I wandered away from the bus and took a deep breath. The air smelled like hot pine, and dust, and summer. Warm, dry, fresh, and natural.

I could feel Noah the moment he stepped up behind me.

He leaned in, his chest brushing my back for the briefest second as he pointed past my shoulder. “I think that’s a trailhead. You up for some exploring?”

The question lingered in the air between us. It was just casual, though.

Really.

I glanced down at my new hiking sandals—navy and sturdy and, according to the woman who sold them to me, “built for almost all terrain.” Then I slipped my new backpack off one shoulder, slinging it around so that I could reach what I wanted.

“Sure,” I said, unzipping the front pocket. “But first…”

I dropped the bag onto the gravel and squirted a small blob into my palm, coating my arms, cheeks, and forehead in quick, practiced motions. Then I handed the bottle over to Noah.

He scrubbed some on his face and arms, and when I thought he was ready to hand it back, he stepped forward.

“Turn around,” he said softly.

For a second, something fluttered in my chest—an old resistance. Don’t tell me what to do —but I tamped it down.

This wasn’t about control.

Noah wasn’t trying to take over. He was just taking care.

So I turned.

“I’m gonna get the back of your neck,” he murmured.

Then came the gentle sweep of his hand as he moved my ponytail aside, his fingers grazing the bare skin between my shoulder blades. The touch was featherlight, but it sent a ripple of heat up my spine that had nothing to do with the sun.

Cool lotion followed, his fingertips skimming over my skin in smooth, even strokes, right along the base of my neck, across the ridge of my shoulders. The contrast of his warm hand and the chilled sunscreen made me suck in a breath.

Goosebumps bloomed everywhere.

It was just sunscreen, but with every slow sweep of his hand, I couldn’t stop imagining what it might feel like if his fingertips dipped lower on my chest. Or if he stepped closer.

He was extremely sexy, quiet behind me.

My heart was beating way too fast for standing still.

“I should have warmed it up first,” he said, voice low, his breath brushing just behind my ear.

“No,” I said. “It’s fine.”

In fact, it was just about perfect. I could stand here all day, soothed by the motions of his hands working the lotion into my skin.

And honestly, I struggled to believe this was actually happening to me. I mean, he was a super-hot doctor, and I was an okay-looking former TV-slash-YouTuber-slash-unemployed cook.

Who was supposedly getting over a bad breakup.

He handed the sunscreen back without a word. And his eyes—those steady gunmetal blue eyes—were locked on mine.

“Ready when you are,” he said, nodding toward the trail.

I hummed agreeably and pulled my backpack back over my shoulders.

It’s just a hike. Just a break while the bus gets fixed. That was what I told myself.

Over and over.

But when we read the wooden sign, not quite covered by the scrub, I wasn’t so sure.

Flutter Creek Falls , it said. Unusually accurate as to what I was feeling just then.

Because something was happening, and even though this attraction was filled with uncertainty, I wasn’t fighting it anymore.

Even if I should.

It made my heart feel too big for my chest.

One and a half miles, it said. “Do we have time?”

“Only one way to find out,” Noah answered.

I nodded, and he gestured for me to go ahead.

And without another word, we left the bus and the picnic tables and the others behind.

Just the two of us.