“Nice song choice,” Zach said. Took him right back to their high school days. Not that he’d been a huge Rihanna fan. More like Foo Fighters and Pearl Jam.
“Do you care if I try to grab a nap?” Hiccup. “I didn’t sleep well last night.”
“Go ahead. I can handle the road. I’ll find us somewhere to stop for lunch in, what, a couple of hours?”
Reagan slid her sunglasses off and leaned the chair back. “That would be great.”
She snuggled up as best she could in the cramped space and closed her eyes.
Shut up and drive? He could do that. Would give him a chance to think and try to make sense of the past twenty-four hours. He should be madder than hell at the little stunt she pulled back at the airport. His work took him around the globe, and he’d racked up enough airline miles to almost guarantee he’d never fly coach again. TSA even had him on the pre-check list.
Guess that didn’t matter if his traveling companion started spouting off about bombs. At least he didn’t get banned. Who knew when, and if, he’d ever end up with a hot shoot in Louisville? After the crappy hotel and the forced intimacy at the airport, he wouldn’t be too anxious to return to the Bluegrass state.
GPS directed him onto Interstate 65 south, and he revved the engine to merge onto the highway. The car hadn’t been necessary. But last-minute options were somewhat limited. It was either spring for the Mustang or cram the two of them into an ultra-compact that probably topped out at fifty miles per hour. Each passing mile got him closer to the end of this highway to hell. The faster they went, the sooner he could drop Reagan off and figure out what part, if any, he wanted to play in exposing her family.
When Scazzoli first approached him about getting a shot of Senator Campbell with his mistress, Zach had politely declined. But then Scazzoli threatened him and Zach didn’t have a choice. Either get the picture of Senator Campbell or Scazzoli would expose Zach as the source of some very uncompromising images taken of Zach’s largest client’s wife.
So Zach agreed. If the senator was fucking around, he deserved whatever fallout came his way. Taking him down a peg or two might even provide a tiny bit of satisfaction for finally getting a vengeful shot at the man who’d made him let Reagan go.
But that was before Reagan entered the picture and Scazzoli upped the ante. Zach wasn’t sure if he could toss Reagan and Teddy under the bus along with their dad, not even if it meant getting out from under Scazzoli’s thumb for good. If he could find a way out of the mess he was swimming in, he might be able to strike out on his own—something he’d dreamed about doing for years.
His mind reeled with the possibilities. Should he set up shop in LA or move his home base to the East coast? His dream of becoming a legit travel photographer slowly came into focus. Maybe a small gallery where he could sell prints and larger panoramic canvases. He’d have to hire someone to manage the shop while he went out on shoots.
There were so many places he wanted to visit again. That monastery in Nepal. The Baa Atoll in the Maldives. The Iguaza Falls between Argentina and Brazil. So many places where he’d barely scratched the surface. Currently, he’d fly in for twenty-four to forty-eight hours. Long enough to assess the lighting, grab a few hundred shots, usually of half-naked women, and be back on his way to LA again before he even had a chance to explore. It would be nice to be in charge of his time. To take the shots he wanted. To not have to work against someone else’s timeline or budget for a change.
He sneaked a glance at Reagan. Everything would fall into place. It had to. He could get her to Florida, make up some excuse for Scazzoli about why he couldn’t get shots of the wedding, then try to salvage his agreement by snagging an incriminating photo of Senator Campbell if he showed up with his mistress.
The twinge ricocheted through his gut. Shit. He was doing the right thing. It’s not like he was going to actually take the wedding pictures Scazzoli wanted. He twisted the cap off his bottle and guzzled water, trying to drown out the twinge.
Senator Campbell was a public figure. Put yourself in that kind of a position, you had to expect the drama and bullshit that went along with it. Zach would do what he could to protect Reagan and keep the vultures away. But as a politician’s kid, Reagan had experienced the limelight, even at its most unflattering.
His cheeks burned at the memory of the graduation party. That had blown way out of proportion. How was he to know that Jimmy would be waiting with a cell phone to capture the outcome of their closet experience on film? Yeah, the aftermath had been shitty.
But before that—he glanced over at Reagan again—the months he spent with her before it all went to hell…those had been spectacular.
A commercial came on the radio. He scanned through the other channels, finally settling on some bluegrass. When in Rome… A banjo twanged and the lyrics went on about being young and in love.
Screw that.
The woman’s voice held a slight yodel, and she went on and on about having her heart broken. Been there, done that.
He’d never understood the emotional rollercoaster of falling in and out of love. After he’d been forced to break it off with Reagan, he’d never been interested in trying again. Sure, he’d been attracted to many women over the years. Even ended up in a couple of relationships. But when push came to shove and they started talking about meeting parents or spending the holidays together, it was time to move on.
Independence meant freedom. And freedom meant no one else would ever have the power to hurt him again.
The Mustang ate up the pavement and the miles ticked away faster than the minutes on the digital clock on the dash. Reagan made little noises in her sleep. A snort here, a sigh there. Her hiccups had subsided.
His mouth quirked into a smile. First time he’d ever heard that obnoxious sound coming from her slim frame, he’d laughed out loud. It seemed even funnier when he realized the more embarrassed and nervous she got, the worse her hiccups became. He remembered wondering how the hell he was supposed to kiss her if she kept barking in his face. Funny thing, though, from the moment he had touched his lips to hers, the hiccups went away.
Reagan stirred and opened her eyes. “Hey.”
“Hey, yourself.”
“How long have I been asleep?” She stretched her arms over her head.
After thinking about their high school days, seeing her all sprawled out, lazy-like, on the seat next to him made him want to pull over to the shoulder and climb into the passenger seat with her. But he couldn’t. He’d screwed things up back then. He wouldn’t take the risk again.
“About an hour. You hungry? There’s an exit coming up with a bunch of food options.”
“Yeah. I could go for some lunch. How far have we come?” She adjusted the seat back to a more upright position.
“Only about a hundred miles.”
“Only another eight hundred or so to go.”
Zach pointed to an approaching highway sign. “Take your pick. Looks like barbecue or a truck stop diner. There haven’t been a whole lot of choices.”
“Probably a better chance of getting a salad at the diner. Let’s do that.”
“You got it.” Zach turned on the blinker and eased onto the exit ramp, stuffing his memories back in the dark corner of his brain where he’d always hidden them away.