“I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”
“No, I won’t figure it out. Who does that? He’s going to take pictures of dogs. Can you believe it? He picked dogs over my brother’s wedding.”
“What are you talking about?” Zach asked.
“Some Hollywood celebrity’s dog is having puppies. They’re calling it the first royal litter in years.” First the issues with the florist, now the photographer. Having hosted every type of event imaginable during her climb up the hotel chain’s corporate ladder, she’d experienced a fair share of last minute issues: a band she’d hired to play the big New Year’s Eve bash coming down with Noro virus, a truckload of champagne ending up in a rollover accident on the way to the hotel for a 65th anniversary party of a shipping tycoon, and a pastry chef delivering a pink cake instead of blue at a celebrity’s high-profile baby shower.
In every situation she’d held it together, kept her cool, and figured out a fast fix before the guests knew anything was wrong. In all of those circumstances she’d been on site, not eight-hundred miles away on the top of a freaking mountain with limited cell phone reception.
As Zach urged her along, her gaze traveled to the pack slung over his shoulder. What an idiot she’d been. Zach had a camera. He could take the pictures of the wedding. Hope rose in her chest like bubbles floating to the top of a champagne glass. She pulled herself up to her full height. A scowl darkened his usual happy-go-lucky look. Maybe she should wait to ask him about the pictures until they got back on the road.
He plopped down on a bench at the edge of the lot and she sat down beside him. “We’re screwed.”
“What do you mean?”
His gaze remained straight ahead. “I mean we’re stuck. The train is gone and there isn’t a bus. We either hike down a steep two-mile road or find a nice bench to spend the night on.”
Reagan let out a sharp laugh. “Yeah, right.”
Zach turned to her. “I’m not joking. There’s no other way down.”
Anger flashed in his eyes and a tic pulsed along his jaw. Her heart did a flip-flop in her chest. “That’s ridiculous. Why can’t we call for a cab or put in for a ride share?”
His brow furrowed. “That’s actually not a bad idea. My cell doesn’t have service, but let me go ask the info desk if they have a number for a cab.”
As he walked away, she turned her attention back to her notebook. What else could possibly go wrong? The intense need to get to Miami gnawed at her. She couldn’t tell Teddy and Cal about the photographer until she got Zach to agree to stand in. For now, all she could do was butter him up and try to get him in a more agreeable mood. Missing the train hadn’t helped. But with any luck they’d be back on the road soon and she could start working on him. With at least twelve hours until they hit Miami, she’d have plenty of time.
Her eyes drifted closed, and she let her head fall back to rest on the edge of the bench. The breeze brushed against her skin, carrying the scent of freshly-mowed grass and funnel cakes from one of the shops they passed. Her stomach gurgled, and she pressed a hand to her abdomen. How could she possibly be hungry after all that ice cream?
She didn’t want to think about how many calories she had ingested. Between the monster cone, Sal’s cupcakes, and wedding food, it would take her a month to get back in shape. She ran through the schedule of wedding events in her head, envisioning how everything would go off without a hitch. As she conjured up the mental picture of Teddy and Cal saying their vows at the altar, Zach called her name.
“Reagan! Hey, come on. I got us a ride.”
Her eyes flew open and she jumped off the bench. “That’s great. Is a cab coming for us?”
He shook his head. “Nah. I ran into a family at the info desk, and they’re about to head down the hill. They said they’d give us a lift.”
She stopped walking. “What? You want to ride with strangers?”
“It’s fine. They’re nice people. Two little kids. The cab company said it would be at least an hour before they could send someone up here. You want to wait that long?”
“Well, no.” But riding with complete strangers?
Zach might be used to taking risks, but she had always played it safe. She had to. Her parents had ingrained their warnings since she was a little girl. Don’t trust anyone. Expect the worst from people. She couldn’t help where her thoughts naturally traveled.
“Trust me. If anything goes wrong, I can take him.” His eyes crinkled at the corners, and he fought a smile.
“You’re mocking me. You don’t know what it’s like to always be on guard, growing up—”
“As a senator’s kid,” he interrupted. “I get it, believe me. Your dad ripped me a new one about that. I’ll never forget.”
“What are you talking about?”
He shook his head. “Forget about it. That was a long time ago.” He thrust his hand at her. “Come on. We don’t want them to leave without us.”
“No. Tell me what you mean. When did you talk to my dad?” Her arms crossed over her stomach and she braced herself, ready to hold her ground.
“I’ll tell you when we get back in the car.”
“You’re sure they’re safe?” She didn’t budge.
Zach let out a cross between a groan and a sigh. “Yes. I promise.”
“You’ll owe me one after this.”
“Ha. That’s rich. Aren’t I the one carting your spoiled butt down to Miami since you botched your flight plans, cupcake?”
Whirling away from his touch, she glared at him. “Spoiled? Really?”
“Agh.” He rubbed a hand over his scruffy cheeks. “That’s not what I meant.”
“If you didn’t mean it, then why did you say it?”
“Can we catch our ride before they leave us? We can duke it out at the bottom of the hill.”
Reagan felt like he’d knocked the wind out of her. Spoiled? Is that what he thought of her? She’d almost been enjoying their banter. Under different circumstances, she was pretty sure she’d be able to enjoy his company. But he’d just gone and ruined any chance of a continued friendship. Over the years, she’d been called a variety of names by classmates, co-workers, and the press. Spoiled had never been one of those names. If he saw her as spoiled, maybe she’d give him what he expected. But first, to get off the darn mountain.
She shot him her best go-to-hell-and-stay-there-to-roast-in-eternal-fire look and moved ahead of him. “Fine. Show me where the serial killers masquerading as a touring family parked their vehicle.”
“Jesus, Reagan. Aren’t you being a little overly dramatic?” He followed her, taking one long step to every two of hers.
“So now I’m a spoiled drama queen? Keep ’em coming.”
He half-laughed. “Right over here.”
His hand lifted in a wave. Reagan looked ahead to the motor home in front of them. A short, wiry bald man stood at the door next to a petite woman holding a towheaded toddler. An immediate surge of guilt rose in her chest. Zach probably outweighed the guy by a hundred pounds. He’d definitely be able to take him if something went wrong. Their smiles seemed genuine, and the man held out his hand as they approached.