Side Trip(19)

“If Mark . . .” She glanced away. “I don’t want to hurt him. He really wanted to come with me.”

“Why didn’t he?”

“None of your business.”

He scrunched up his mouth, then relaxed and nodded. “Fine. Anything else?”

“Nope. That’s it for me. You?” She unlocked the doors. Dylan went to his side and put his stuff in the back seat.

“One rule,” he announced as Joy started to sit down. She stood back up and looked at him across the roof of the car. “We need a rule about side trips. I have gigs scheduled. I can’t be late or miss a performance.”

Dylan had been a little more than miffed yesterday when she took a slight detour to the museum. “What are you proposing?”

“If one of us wants to take a side trip, we both have to agree. So, what do you say, Joy, do we have a deal?”

“Only if you agree to go on the side trip I planned for today.” She’d plotted the day’s course last night. She’d been anticipating today’s adventure for weeks. She wasn’t inclined to deviate.

He side-eyed her. “Where are you going?”

“The Grand Canyon.”

“You serious? That’s a full two hours north. In the wrong direction.” He groaned, face lifted heavenward. He dragged his hands down his cheeks and narrowed his eyes at her. “Can we be in Albuquerque by ten tomorrow morning?”

“Easy. We’ll be there by tonight.”

Dylan took a beat, then reached his arm across the canvas roof. “All right, Joy. I’ll go with you to the Grand Canyon if you take me to New York.”

“Then we have a deal,” she announced, pleased and nervous all at once. She stood on the Bug’s runner, leaned across the roof, and grasped Dylan’s hand. She also snuffed the first thought that came to mind: Judy never would have agreed to such a deal.





CHAPTER 8





BEFORE


Dylan

Flagstaff, Arizona, to the Grand Canyon

What the hell was he thinking?

Dylan hated tight spaces, and ever since his relationship with Sonia imploded—his fault, not hers—he avoided relationships like a blistering STD. He now hadn’t just agreed to both, he’d negotiated himself into the position. At least Joy’s Bug was a convertible and, unlike the driver of his dad’s tour bus, he could ask her to pull over at any time. He’d also have his own room at night, not a six-by-three sleeping bunk with a four-inch foam mattress.

As for his friendship with the woman . . .

Joy.

He loved her name. Simple, yet full of light. Lyrical.

He had zero interest in any sort of relationship other than friendship with her, yet he couldn’t get her out of his head last night. He’d hardly slept. Then he didn’t want to sleep at all and miss her before she’d checked out. He’d made up his mind last night when she’d said goodbye that it wasn’t goodbye for him—just a damn good night. He’d expected a shitty performance. It turned out to be spectacular, relatively speaking.

She’d come to watch him sing.

Joy was pretty in a fresh I-love-to-be-out-in-the-sun way. Her style was too conservative for his own tastes. And she wasn’t anything like the women he’d take out for dinner and a lay, or escort down the red carpet at an awards show Chase forced him to attend. Because that was as long as Dylan would spend with any woman. One night only.

But Joy . . .

He’d had a good time during their drive yesterday. And when she’d dropped him off at his gig he felt . . . disappointed. Their lives had intersected for less than the length of an ad space on the episode of life. He kind of wanted more time with her. But she hadn’t asked for his cell number. Women always asked if they could text him.

Joy hadn’t. She probably thought he didn’t have a phone.

He thought he’d never see her again.

Then there she was, sitting alone at a small table against the wall. She was there to see him.

After getting through what had been one of the worst panic attacks he’d experienced in years, the last thing Dylan had wanted to do was walk up on that shoebox of a stage and perform. His throat had atrophied. He couldn’t push out the lyrics or get his hands under control. They shook like he was jacked on heroin. He couldn’t nail the chords. But he’d looked out into a sea of unfamiliar faces and he’d found her. She’d smiled and waved, and suddenly everything was right. Their eyes locked and the nerves shocking his system settled.

Good thing she was engaged. That sparkler on her finger kept him in check. He’d been sorely tempted to kiss more of her than the soft indentation of her temple. But he suspected Joy wouldn’t be down for a one-nighter, and he didn’t need extra baggage he’d have to check when she dropped him off at JFK in nine days.

“Do you mind if I put the top down? It’s not atrociously hot yet,” she said.

“Go for it.” Dylan popped the latch on his side. As the top folded into its compartment, he swept his gaze over her. She wore a light blue sleeveless blouse with a daisy print and ankle-length white pants. They looked painted on her and . . . hello, curves! Those had been hiding under the skirt she’d worn yesterday.

He shook his head with a slight smile. Guess she wasn’t planning to go hiking. She certainly wasn’t dressed for it.