“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.
Her hand stopped, resting on his chest. Leaving the area under her hand hot, like it had been branded. He worked to keep his expression cool, as if her touch didn’t affect him.
Payton seemed to be lost in her own thoughts too—her eyes glued to the sight of her hand resting against him. Her eyes widened, suddenly, as if realizing what she was doing, and she pulled her hand away.
Awkward.
He heaved a heavy sigh and pinched the skin above his nose. “I guess we’re renting a car then. Let’s go find our luggage and catch a cab that can get us across the border. My assistant was going to try and track us down a rental car. I’ll see what she’s found,” he said and pulled his cell phone out.
Only, twenty minutes later, they were still staring at the baggage carousel when it careened to a halt, every bag claimed by someone. Except theirs.
Neither of them had said anything as they watched, bag after bag, the pile shrink to nothing.
He hazarded a glance at Payton, who was standing still, staring at the empty carousel. Then he saw something that looked suspiciously like a smile tugging on her lips before she exploded in laughter. Laughter that shook her so hard she bent forward, clutching her stomach.
She certainly was a lightweight. He’d have to find her some coffee and soon. But first there was the issue of their bags.
He waited until she slowed down enough to wipe away a few tears that had slipped down her cheeks. She snuck a look over at him and instantly dissolved into a fit of giggles again.
“I’m sorry,” she said, catching her breath. “I just keep thinking that nothing can get any worse and then…” She held back another laugh, her eyes tearing again. “And then it does. And you’re standing there with that serious expression, almost like you expected it. Resigned to accept the worst. Does anything ever surprise you?”
“Not usually.”
She shook her head, smiling again. “That’s too bad.”
He wasn’t certain why she was looking at him with sympathy. He just knew human nature and had resigned himself long ago to not hold high expectations. “We better report our missing bags and get started on the paperwork. If they haven’t appeared by now, I don’t think they’re going to.”
“Hey, if we’re lucky, they’ll make it to Puerto Vallarta before we do.” Her eyes twinkled at this prospect just before her stomach made a very unladylike gurgle and she clutched it. “Do you think we can find a cab that will stop through a drive-thru for some burgers? I might start eating the leather on my handbag if I don’t get something soon.”
He was pretty hungry himself, although he couldn’t get his mind around the prospect of Payton Vaughn gripping anything so gauche and messy as an old fashioned burger with those soft, manicured fingers. Sushi, a large garden salad, lobster…maybe. But a fast-food burger?
Guess there was always room for some surprises.
Chapter Three
Payton licked the sauce from her hand that had dribbled off her burger, her attention on the activity outside the cab’s window. She’d never crossed the U.S. border before—at least via land. She’d traveled in and outside the U.S. tons of times, of course, but it’s not like there was a sign you could see to mark the event.
The sun had dipped a few minutes ago, but the dusk light was still bright enough to see the bustling activity at the border as masses of people crossed the bridge over the Rio Grande on foot, many with shopping bags and messenger bags, probably heading home from work or the malls. Fortunately, the long line of cars on the bridge was lined up heading in the opposite direction as them—coming into the states, so their crossing didn’t take nearly as long as she’d anticipated.
She sank her mouth into her hamburger. It was pretty good. Especially after having only eaten garden salads and broiled fish and chicken for the past few months. A necessity when her mother had thought Payton would look better in a dress one size smaller than her usual, and ordered the designer dress accordingly. She glanced over to find Cruz staring at her with something akin to shock. “What?”
“Nothing. How are you feeling? Seeing two of me still?”
“Very funny. I was not drunk. It was only two drinks and I was merely…tipsy.”
“Of course. And it wasn’t you who fell in the lap of that poor old man back at baggage claim.”
“I tripped. On his feet. I think he orchestrated the whole thing.”
“With his wife sitting right next to him?”
Yeah, well, she had apologized profusely and, once she found an open seat, finally dug out that PowerBar.
Best to change the subject. “I called Kate about the delay so she knows not to look for us until tomorrow. She said she’d talk to the hotel, to make sure there’s no problem with our reservations, but we’ll likely have to eat tonight’s room charge. No refunds.”
“I expected as much.”
She eyed his French fries, still untouched. If she’d known they were going to smell so tempting, she’d have ordered some herself, and seeing as how he wasn’t interested…
“You going to eat those?” she asked.
He shook his head and pushed them toward her. A ping from his cell phone drew his attention. “Looks like Budget rental has two cars left. A Chevy Matiz, whatever that is, or a passenger van. My vote is anything but a van.”
Famous last words, as half an hour later, they both stood in awed silence, staring at the little car, just one step up from a clown car. “If it helps, I’ve seen smaller,” she offered. “This one at least has a backseat…I think. Or I guess somewhere to put…my purse.”
Cruz didn’t say anything, probably trying to envision how he was going to twist that tall and surprisingly muscular build into the tiny door opening.
This should be interesting.
They had to be joking.
Cruz shook his head, not finding words to express his disbelief, and headed over to the driver’s side.
As he stood outside the car, he’d swear the door was barely tall enough to admit a small child, let alone his six-foot-three-inch frame.
He pulled the door open, slid his laptop bag behind the seat, and bent his head to try and fit through the tiny opening.
His head cracked against a corner.
Dammit. That hurt.
The ringing of laughter didn’t improve his mood, and he glared back. Her mirth seemed to increase as he found his legs pressed against the steering column. Whoever had driven this last had definitely been a kid. His hand groped for the latch to release the seat and he just managed to reach a position of minimal discomfort when Payton slid into the passenger side with ease.
She was still smiling. Those damn dimples were almost taunting him. Before she had even slipped the seat belt into the latch, he’d put the car in drive and pulled out of the spot.
Having studied the map in the cab as they crossed the border, he was familiar with the route they needed to take. But Payton had insisted on buying her own map and was spreading it out on her lap, using a pen to draw a line down, highlighting their route. She paused and bit the tip of her pen.
“We have a couple of choices once we hit Guadalajara. The southern path looks a little more direct, but it’s not a toll road like the northern route.”
“We’re taking the northern route. I know from experience that the toll will end up taking less time. And it’s safer.”
“Really? You’ve done this before?”
He shrugged. “My mom’s from Morelia. That’s just a little further southeast of Guadalajara,” he offered when he saw her scanning the map. He turned on his blinker as they made a right hand turn onto the main street. “Growing up, my parents took us down to visit her family. We spent a lot of time exploring the area. If we had more time, the other way is definitely more scenic, but we don’t have that luxury. Not if we’re going to make it for the rehearsal tomorrow.”
She remained quiet and he glanced over to see her staring sadly at an invisible spot on the dash. “What is it?”
She turned her attention outside the window, away from him. “Nothing. Just remembering my last trip with my fia—with Brad. We went to Cabo in January.”
The silence went on, and he sensed that whatever was going on with her earlier today had something to do with Brad Eastman. A subject he had no interest in hearing about. “Music?”
She nodded and he flipped it on. After a search through various stations, he settled on one that was playing a soft, contemporary Spanish song. Payton seemed to need time to reflect, and he could stand to focus on getting out of the city and onto the highway, all limbs intact.
The silence was unusual. His and Payton’s short relationship usually involved her making some ridiculous comment that cemented her image as a silly, self-centered rich girl, followed by his stoic but judging silence, with maybe the occasional grunt or eye roll.
Even before meeting her, Cruz had a good idea who Payton Vaughan was, due to her engagement to Brad Eastman, son to one of the wealthiest entrepreneurs in Utah—and the guy who showed up Cruz’s senior year of high school and easily won over every girl at school with his fancy car and smarmy smile. Including Cruz’s girlfriend, Angelina, who Brad quickly dumped just one week later for a girl who was rumored to be related to Dutch royalty. And the guy had only been a junior.
So Cruz had a good idea of what Brad Eastman’s fiancée would be like even before Dominic relayed the news that she had a trust fund that rivaled Midas’s.
Beautiful, cultured, and stuck up as hell.
On meeting her, the first two assumptions had proven correct. Payton was not only heart-stoppingly gorgeous but had that personality that drew everyone to her. Charisma. Enough that he’d stopped in his tracks when he’d first seen her at the flower shop that night, both on their way to Kate’s birthday party and neither knowing who the other was. He’d been captivated. Had even considered asking for her number.
As to the last—her being stuck up—he hadn’t had enough time to confirm whether it was true or not. Although she’d been nothing but friendly toward his family when she met them all—officially—at Kate’s party that memorable night, he’d heard enough from Dominic about how tied up in knots Kate had been under Payton’s mother’s discerning eyes as they grew up, that he’d decided to withhold final judgment.
The muffled music that started ringing from her purse brought Payton a good inch in the air. He knew that tune…
Is that the song from the shower scene in Psycho?
She fumbled in the purse and pulled out the cellphone, trapped in a bright pink case. Only she didn’t accept the call immediately, continuing to stare at the screen instead. She was biting at her lip, almost looking afraid.
His curiosity was piqued. Who on earth had Payton so terrified to take their call?
Finally, she steeled her back and pressed accept, bringing the phone to her ear. “Hello, Mother.”
Since stepping off the airplane, Payton had done a good job—no, miraculous job—of pretending that nothing was wrong with her life, choosing instead to focus on one thing. Getting to Puerto Vallarta and being there for the single most important event in her best friend’s life.
Payton had become a pro at compartmentalizing her life over the years, and today would be no different. Besides, she’d have plenty of time to fall apart when she was alone and in the sanctity and privacy of her luxury suite at the hotel. And she had almost succeeded. Until she remembered the trip to Cabo with Brad, followed by the image of him and that…that very naked woman, doing Lord knew what back in New York.
And now her mother was calling.
Does she know?
What was Payton going to tell her?
But she shouldn’t have worried about providing any kind of explanation to her mother when she answered the phone because the woman wouldn’t let her get a word in for several minutes. Starting first with why Payton hadn’t called as soon as she landed, leaving her mother to hear the news of the emergency landing after the fact and spending the past hour in a panic, before seguing into the “ludicrous voicemail” Payton left for the wedding planner.
Cripes. Payton had forgotten about that hasty message in the chaos that followed. She placed her fingers to the side of her temple and rubbed. What had she been thinking?
“Have you completely lost your mind?” Payton held the phone away from her ear as her mother yelled. “What on earth do you mean leaving some crazy message for Camille saying your wedding is off? I had to have the silly girl play the message for me, since I was ready to fire her, right then for making up lies.”
Payton could almost hear that argument, and see poor Camille flinching under her mother’s passive aggressive tirade. Camille had assured them early on she’d handled many different personalities and nothing would prevent her from throwing them a successful wedding.
But that had been before she met Emily Vaughn.
“Really, Payton. Of all the asinine games for you to play at such a pivotal time in the planning—the girl had been about to call and cancel the ballroom at Grand America before she came to her senses and gave me a call first. What do you have to say for yourself? Why would you do something so reckless? Have you been drinking the water even though I distinctly told you not to? Are you on some sort of mind-altering drug? What is it? And where on earth are you? Are you back in Dallas? Tell me you’re returning home and forgetting the ridiculous notion of going to Mexico alone.”
Payton took a deep breath in. Where on earth to start?
Her wedding, she supposed. Was it still on?
An image of Brad’s sleepy bedroom eyes flooded her mind, followed by the cheap image of “Boobalicious’s” envious rack swaying as she handed him the phone.
Payton wasn’t an idiot. There was no way that what she saw was any kind of misunderstanding, no matter how many voicemails Brad left her before she’d finally blocked his calls. He had cheated on her. Lord knew how many times.
There was simply no wedding to salvage.
Some Justin Bieber song was suddenly blaring from the radio, and she couldn’t help but whip her head ar
ound to glare at Cruz. Was he playing with her now or did he really have an affinity for horrendous music?
He held his hands up in apology and reached over, flipping the radio off. But now the silence was doubly loud, not just in the car, but on the other end of the line.
What was she going to tell her mother? Her stomach roiled again and bile rose to her throat. Could she tell her mother, now, with Cruz all ears to hear how her once perfect life had suddenly fallen apart?
It was so humiliating.
Her mother, still not having an answer, started again. “Payton? What has come over you? You need to stop thinking of yourself and think of everyone who is relying on you. Me, the planner, your father, and, of course, Brad most of all. What would he think about that little trick you played? He would be as hurt and outraged as I am. To turn your wedding into a joke like that.”
What would Brad think? That was rich. This time she snorted.
Here her mother was accusing her of being selfish when all her life Payton had bent herself into a pretzel trying to please everyone around her—her mother most of all. She’d sacrificed her career trying to become what her mother wanted—essentially someone’s trophy wife. And for what? So Brad could boink some skank when they should be spending a romantic vacation seeing her best friend get married?
She was done. It was over. She was living her life, starting now, on her terms.
That plane trip had offered her more than time to think. It had offered a new start.
“Mother, I’m sorry that you think I’ve been selfish here, but I meant what I told Camille. It’s off. There will be no grandiose reception, no stuffy church wedding, no Christmas stocking with Brad’s name to add to the Vaughn mantle. Unlike you, I am not going to spend the next thirty years ignoring his exploits. And if you want to know what I’m talking about, then maybe you can call Brad and ask to speak to Miss Boobalicious—the giant-breasted Playboy bunny sharing his bed last time I called. For now, I’m heading to my best friend’s wedding, where I am going to at least see someone get their happily ever after. I’ll see you Monday. Good-bye.”
Her Accidental Husband Page 3