He knew her answer before he’d even asked.
“No. This thing is testy and there’s a trick to driving it properly. Plus,” she added, sounding a little testy herself, “just because I’m a woman doesn’t mean I don’t know how to drive.”
“Never said otherwise,” he agreed easily, keeping his eyes closed. “Just thought to offer, seeing how we’re both tired and it’s the middle of the night. You just let me know if you get too tired and need relief.”
“Oh.” She sounded hesitant, as if regretting her tone of voice. But he didn’t open his eyes. “Thank you for the offer.”
“Not a problem.”
He let his mind drift off just a little, wondering what it would be like if she weren’t so stubborn. If she weren’t so determined to have absolutely no contact with him that wasn’t professional. If he could reach across the bench seat and take her hand, lace his fingers with hers and just hold it on the well-worn, cracked leather seat.
“Shit!”
Well, that wasn’t at all the reaction he’d expected. Wait, was he thinking out loud? Jesus.
He cracked one eye open only to suddenly feel the truck swerve and veer across the barely-two-lane road. Peyton’s small hands squeezed the steering wheel, her knuckles stark white, as if she hoped the power of her grip alone could control the vehicle.
Her rigid posture wasn’t going to do her any good if they ended up in a crash. Though out here, there didn’t look like much to crash into. But he took a chance and rubbed a hand over her back. “Easy. It’s fine, nobody’s around. Let up a little. There we go.”
She guided and coaxed and maneuvered with obvious difficulty until the truck rumbled, sputtered, and then finally ground to a halt on the side of the road. Under his hand, he could feel the tension and stress leak out of Peyton’s muscles until she went completely lax, letting her head drop down to the steering wheel with a bump.
“Oh my God. I think I just lost ten years of my life.”
He’d probably lost twenty, but no need to point that out. “Did we blow a tire?”
She shook her head, forehead still pressed against the wheel. “Something just clutched and the power steering went out.” She pounded a fist against the dash. “Damn, thing should have been junked years ago. We just . . .”
No need to finish that sentence. Couldn’t afford to replace it.
From what Red could see, faint tendrils of smoke snaked out from beneath the hood of the rig. He opened his door, hopping down and closing it before leaning through the open window. “Pop the hood so I can see what’s going on. Stay in here in case I need you to start the engine or anything.”
She looked relieved. “Do you know a lot about cars?”
No. Nothing. But he figured even he could tell if the problem was minor or major. Slipping out of his button-down work shirt, he wrapped the fabric around his hand and went to open the hood after he heard the faint give of metal, signaling Peyton had pressed the button to pop it. The moment he did, he knew the rig was DOA. The blast of heat and stench of burned . . . something stung his nostrils. He backed away, waving his arms to clear the smoke from his eyes. Rounding the truck to the driver side, he waited for her to roll down the manual window.
“I’m thinking it’s a goner.”
Peyton once again let her head fall, this time back against the seat. “That would figure. This piece of junk just couldn’t get us back home, could it? Just couldn’t fight it out to the end. No. We had to break down here in BumFuck Nowhere.” She glanced around. “Where are we again?”
He shrugged. “You were driving.”
“Fantastic.” She grabbed the directions she’d been using from the dash and her cell phone from the cup holder by her feet. “Time to call for reinforcements.”
“And who would that be?”
“AAA, duh.”
“Sorry sweetheart, but this thing won’t be heading to any more rodeos.”
Peyton wanted to scream. Then cry. Then kick the son of a bitch for calling her sweetheart like she was some helpless little woman. Though the crying part wouldn’t help her maintain her dignity, so she nodded and bit her lip to cut the tears off.
“What broke?”
“What didn’t?”
“So it’s only good for parts?”
The mechanic who’d showed up on site scoffed. “Love, this thing is barely worth metal scrap. I know a guy who can give you a check tomorrow for what it’s worth, but that’ll have to keep until morning.”
Peyton ran a hand over her quickly fraying braid and shook her head, then nodded. Her mind was too foggy with exhaustion at this point to care. “Great. Fine. So, until then, is there a car rental place around here?”