Joanna's Highlander (Highland Protector #2)(69)

Luckily, the bus was only half full, so she got a window seat and had the entire row to herself. Thank goodness for small miracles. She wasn’t in the mood for polite conversation. She just wanted to sulk. Sulk? I’m the one that wanted this. But did she really want it now that she’d kicked this gut-wrenching ball of damnation into play? Last night without Grant had been torture—especially since she knew that wherever he was, he was suffering because of her.

She leaned against the window as the bus lurched forward. She wrinkled her nose at the smell of diesel and oil filling the air. Thankfully, the other passengers were relatively quiet. Other than the soft-voiced chattering of the pair of older ladies seated behind her, Joanna was left painfully alone with her thoughts and worries. Not only was she troubled about Grant and all that had transpired between them, she was beginning to wonder if she’d bit off more than she could chew with that damn job.

Ever since she’d given Lilian Tasker her conditional “yes,” her phone had been buzzing with business texts nonstop and her personal email box had already exceeded capacity. She’d finally had to silence her phone to escape the incessant notifications. Whatever happened to letting someone get in the office first and get acclimated before you tried to drown her with corporate bullshit? She could only assume that since she’d worked there before, everyone figured she already knew what was going on and was ready to dive in headfirst without any flotation devices intact.

I have screwed myself again. Royally.

How did she always do it—every damn time? She always made the wrong choices and was too stupid to realize it until it was too freakin’ late. She sniffed and angrily swiped at an escaped tear. What if she’d even gone so far as to lose Grant? I’ll never forgive myself if I’ve lost him. Never. She bit her lip and closed her burning eyes against more tears. Thank goodness for sunglasses and ball caps. She adjusted both and hunkered down in the seat as the bus lurched around a curve and started up a steep incline.

“Well, would you look at that?” said a quivering feminine voice behind her. Then a peck-peck-peck rattled against the window behind her like a woodpecker hunting a hollow tree for bugs.

Joanna closed her eyes tighter. Great. Now that I’m trying to go to sleep, they decide to talk louder and beat on the window.

“I’m glad you see him too, Esther, because I was afraid my meds were off again.”

Joanna hunkered down lower and propped her knees on the seat in front of her. Ignore. Ignore. Ignore. Maybe if she repeated the mantra over and over, she’d drown out the old hens and finally get some sleep.

“My, my, my. A man on a horse is sexy enough, but in a kilt? And nearly shirtless? If I was a few years younger…”

Joanna’s eyes popped open. Kilt? She whipped off her hat and sunglasses and looked out the window. It only took a moment to home in on the unbelievable sight the old ladies had spotted.

Léine untied and opened to the waist. Kilt fluttering back across the horse’s rump. Man and animal moved as one, galloping across the undulating hillside, running along the right side of the road.

“He looks like one of them Highland warriors out of the movies,” remarked one of the ladies. “Damnation, Esther. Damnation, I’m gonna need my oxygen.”

Joanna couldn’t agree more. Her heart thumped harder, making it difficult to breathe.

Broad chest revealed. Muscular thighs flexing with the ride. Reins resting easily in the palm of one hand, hammer clenched in the other. Grant’s blond hair was tied back away from his face and he rode crouched forward with his clenched teeth bared. Occasionally, he stole a glance down at the bus, then spurred his mount on to draw ahead of it.

The longer she watched him, the more certain she became.

“I can’t do this,” she whispered, white-knuckling the top of the seat in front of her. She jumped up, grabbed her bag, and bounced and weaved her way up the aisle. “Stop the bus!” she shouted. “Stop the bus!”

The driver looked up, frowning at her in his overhead mirror. “You’re going to have to take a seat, ma’am. It’s unsafe for you to be up walking around on this stretch of road.”

“Stop the bus!” Joanna repeated as she lurched into the front seat behind the driver. “Please stop it. Now. I’ve got to get off.”

“I can’t stop the bus and put you out here in the middle of nowhere,” the driver argued. “Unless you’re feeling sick. The restroom is at the rear of the bus if you think you’re going to vomit.”

What a good idea. Joanna slapped her hand over her mouth and pretended to gag. “I can’t make it to the restroom,” she gasped. “Please stop or I’m gonna—look out!”

Grant and his horse galloped down the hillside at breakneck speed, cut across the highway in front of the bus, and reared to a stop in the middle of the road.

“Holy shit!” the driver yelled. He stomped down on the brakes and pulled the emergency brake lever at the same time. Tires squealed, air brakes hissed, and both passengers and loose bags lurched forward with the sudden stop.

Joanna rose from the front seat and sidled into the aisle. Icy fear clutched her heart and squeezed, making it impossible to breathe as she bent and looked out the windshield. She sagged against the steel pole curving around the driver’s seat and didn’t bother fighting the tears any longer.