“Miranda!” he cried. “Wake up!”

I gasped, bolting up in the seat. The car was veering right, my hands slack on the wheel.

“Miranda!” Collin yelled, shaking me awake.

“I’m awake!” I cried. “I’m awake! I’m sorry!”

The car was sliding off the shoulder into a rocky, unforgiving ditch. I yelped, jerking the wheel, praying that I wouldn’t overcorrect and end up in the opposite lane or flip the freaking car. I sucked in a huge lungful of air, willing the oxygen to recirculate through my brain and wake me the hell up.

“Are you all right?” he asked, brushing my hair away from my face.

I nodded, reaching into the cooler compartment to drag out a Coke and slug back most of it in one gulp. “I’m just a little tired.”

And my nose was burning, because some of the Coke bubbles went the wrong way.

“Tired, hell, Miranda. You’re exhausted. I can feel it rolling off you in waves. You’re making me sleepy, and it’s practically mid-morning by my internal clock.”

“I’ll be fine,” I said, yawning widely. “We have a couple of hours to go yet before we reach our goal for the night. If we stop now, we won’t be able to make the Hollow on time tomorrow night. We’re too close, Collin. I can’t hold us up just because I’m a little sleepy.”

Also, I didn’t know how the hell we would pay for a hotel, I silently added, and sleeping at a truck stop didn’t really appeal to me.

“Pull over,” he said, opening his atlas and checking our route.

“What? Why?”

“I’m going to drive.”

“You don’t have a license,” I protested.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t know how to drive. I just didn’t want to be documented by the human government.”

“Were you afraid you would take a bad photo?” I asked, yawning again.

“Impossible. Look at my profile.”

“And modest, too.” I chuckled weakly. “Well, I would be happy to let you drive, but I’ve got enough to explain to Iris.”

“Meaning?”

“You ripped off my gas-tank door!” I exclaimed.

He huffed. “I’ve been secluded for decades. The last car I drove was wound by crank. There have been some changes in technology, but the principles are the same. Besides, the gas tank is nearly full. You have nothing to worry about.”

“I doubt that,” I said. “I appreciate it, Collin, really, but I can’t—”

“You can, and you will,” he insisted. “And imagine how much faster we will get to the Hollow tomorrow if we spend this evening driving instead of resting at a motel.”

“So … skip the motel and drive on through?” I asked.

This was the perfect solution to my having to tell Collin about our money problem. And we’d arrive in the Hollow early, which would impress Iris. If Collin didn’t veer into oncoming traffic and kill us both, which would be a down side.

“And if we arrive in town early and complete my business with Ophelia, perhaps we can spend some time together.”

“We’re spending time together now,” I reminded him, keeping my voice even, despite the excited fluttering in my belly.

“Yes, time restricted by deadlines, work policies, and your reluctance to get involved with a client. I would like to see if we enjoy each other’s company without those constraints.”

“You’re worried that you only like me because you have a chauffeur fetish?” I asked, tilting my head.

He frowned at me. “Miranda.”

“It’s the saucy little hats, isn’t it? Everybody loves a saucy hat.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “I am reconsidering my previous statement.”

“Fine,” I grumbled. “You don’t see anything bad happening?”

“No, but that’s no guarantee with you around.”

“If you have to stop for gas, wake me up,” I told him sternly as I pulled the car onto the shoulder.

“I will,” he promised.

I slipped into the passenger seat as he jogged around the car to the driver’s side. My photo journal was propped open in the console. Collin had shamelessly leafed through it again, despite my protests of privacy. I shoved it between the passenger seat and the console and told myself that it was rude to gripe about it when he’d been so complimentary about my photos. While I’d gassed up the car earlier in the evening, he’d subtly worked in questions about when I would be returning to photography. I’d told him I had no such plans and mentioned Jason’s suggestion of taking Christmas photos at Sears for the diapered set. He was suitably horrified and dropped the subject.

“This is surprisingly comfortable,” I told him, settling into the new front-seat perspective.

He clicked his seatbelt and slid his jacket over me. “Close your eyes and get some rest.”

I smiled, nuzzling my nose into the collar. “Talk to me,” I said. “Your voice helps me fall asleep.”

“I don’t know how to take that.”

“It’s a compliment,” I assured him.

“OK, have you ever wanted to be turned?”

I shook my head. “I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure I would do more damage as an immortal. I’m not afraid of dying … I just want some dignity when it happens. But I think we both know it’s probably going to involve a falling piano or an exotic tropical disease.”

“I think the world would be a lot less interesting without you in it,” he said. “I rather like having you around. Yes, it’s frustrating. But it’s also an incredible relief. The weight is off my shoulders. I don’t feel responsible for the safety of the people around me … except for you, of course. That’s enough to keep me busy, but it’s nice to have some focus.”

I smirked as Collin started describing his childhood in England, his mother, his brother, in a rolling baritone that had my eyelids drooping. My head sank back against the seat. My sleep was deep and untroubled.

I was standing in the middle of a crowded, smoky concert venue, one of those run-down old taverns that try to draw in the younger crowds with watered-down beer and concentrated bad ’80s rock. A mosh pit had formed around me like a sea storm of bodies, twitching and bashing against one another because the occupants were so bored with the band that being knocked unconscious seemed like a better entertainment alternative. I was battered by the waves of unwashed bodies, tempted to drop to my knees and crawl to the nearest fire exit. But that would mean touching the floor, and even in my dreams, I wasn’t going to do that.

A squeal of guitar feedback caught my attention. Collin was standing onstage, the veins and tendons standing stark under his pale skin as he sang, “ ’Cause I’m a LIAR!”

The sight of straight-laced, polished Collin, shirtless and sweaty—and with a pulse, if that angry red flush to his cheeks was any indication—was enough of a shock that I froze. And I was whacked in the face with a flying combat boot for my troubles. Still, it didn’t break the spell of Collin’s stage presence, especially when he looked right at me, blue eyes blazing, and screamed, “Yeah, I’m a LIAR!”

Jerking awake, I sat up slowly, my mouth dry and my head fuzzy. A bit of drool had dried against my cheek, and I swiped at it vigorously. “What the hell?”

My cell phone was blaring Jason’s ringtone from the center console. Fumbling for it, I pressed my thumb to what I thought was the “ignore” button. But my fingertip slid across the screen, and I hit “speakerphone.”

“Oh, shoot,” I hissed, cursing my ineffectual thumbs.

There was a weird thumping noise on the other end of the line and the tumbling crash of furniture being knocked over. I huffed, rolling my eyes. Jason must have ass-dialed me again. I’d almost hit “end” when I heard her.

“Jason!” a high-pitched female voice squealed from the phone. “No tickles! You promised!”

“I’m going to get you,” Jason sing-songed in the stupid voice he sometimes used as “Playful Sex Jason.”

My jaw dropped as I stared at the phone in my hand, transfixed by the source of the obscene giggling.

“No!” the woman squealed, clearly delighted with Playful Sex Jason. More delighted than I can remember being in months. “No, Jason, not the knees!”

“Yes, the knees,” Jason insisted, and I could hear sloppy kissing noises smacking through the receiver. There was a weird muffled thumping sound and more squeals. Jason groaned, and the girl sighed happily. There was another clear, hard thump. And another … and another … and another.

I guessed the “emotional affair” had taken a turn for the naked.

“Lisa!” Jason moaned. “Oh, Lisa, baby, I love you so much.”

“What?” I yelled at my phone. “You son of a bitch!”

Collin snatched the device out of my hands and hit “end,” just as Lisa’s rapturous moans hit a crescendo.

“You didn’t need to hear more,” he said quietly, keeping his eyes on the road.

Speechless, I stared at the phone as if I could reestablish the connection, reach through it, and throttle my former fiancé. Collin actually leaned away from me at the wheel as if he wanted to stay out of smacking range. I crossed my arms over my chest and seethed silently.

What in the actual fuck? How long had Jason been sleeping with Lisa? Had he been lying when he swore that he hadn’t touched her while we were engaged? Had he waited until I was out of town to jump into bed with her? Did it really matter?

I thought about all of the times Jason had apologized for what happened with Lisa, all of the gifts and tearful talks. And I just couldn’t wrap my head around why he bothered. What was his plan? To keep screwing Lisa until the wedding? For the rest of our lives? Why did he spend all that time asking me to come back to him if he loved his childhood friend? If he was in love with her, fine! Why not just take my breaking off the engagement as some sort of sign that they were supposed to be together? Was it that he couldn’t bear being dumped by me? Did he want me back just so he could do the official dumping?

I rubbed my hands over my face, realizing that this was the question that had been eating at me, keeping me from committing to a life with or without Jason. If he loved someone else, why did he say he wanted me?

I’d never trusted his sudden change of heart. I’d been waiting for the other shoe to drop all this time, and it had kicked me in the face months ago. All this time, I knew deep down that as much as I wanted to, I’d never be able to forgive him. Not really. I mean, I assigned him “Liar” as a ringtone. That should have been a whopping subconscious clue.

My heart had known for a while. It just took my brain a few months to catch up. And just when I was starting to feel a little bit better, I realized that we had a bigger problem looming ahead of us.

“Hey, Collin, where are we?”

NOT OK, JOHN DENVER

8

We were supposed to be in Kansas City by now. Instead, we seemed to be stopped on the proverbial dark country road in the drizzling rain, in front of an ancient, rusting bridge. Well, half of an ancient, rusting bridge. The span that was supposed to project over the ravine seemed to have broken off and fallen in, leaving a precariously tilted bridge stump on our side of the crevasse.

“Collin.” I straightened in my seat. “Where the hell are we?”

“I didn’t trust the GPS system on your phone,” he said hesitantly. “I believed I remembered a shortcut from my previous travels through the Heartland.”

“Previous travels through the Heartland? Decades ago? Before modern highway systems were built?”