“Figures.”
Her back went rigid. “What?”
“You’ve got the whole fifties vibe going.” He gestured in her direction.
Joy touched her hair, trying not to take offense. She’d pulled it back into a high ponytail and tied it with a silk scarf that morning in San Bernardino before she’d left home for the last time. She thought her hairstyle looked nice. It sharpened her cheekbones and highlighted the caramel lowlights in her hair.
“Back in a sec. I’m going to wash up.” He showed her his grease-stained hands, then slid from the booth. The waitress returned with her refill and Dylan’s water and took away her plate.
What a rude, presumptuous clod, Joy thought as she admired Dylan’s backside until he slipped through the swinging door to the restrooms. She debated asking for her check. She should get on the road. But when he walked back to the booth, she decided to hang out a bit longer. She liked the sound of his voice. And now that she’d seen the color of his eyes, she wanted to find out more. Who was he? He’d mentioned a gig in Flagstaff. If his vocals sounded anything like his speaking voice, he could melt his audience. What instruments did he play? What type of music? Suddenly she wanted to know everything about him, which she reasoned was perfectly okay. Tall-drink-of-water guy was a musician and Joy was obsessed with music. Better that than drugs, Joy argued whenever her parents complained that she never unplugged.
Dylan slid back into the booth and chugged his entire glass of water. He moved the glass aside and leaned his forearms on the table. “What have you got there?” Before she could answer, he snagged Judy’s list.
“Hey.” She tried to grab it back but he jerked it out of reach. “Do you mind?”
“‘My Route 66 Bucket List,’” he read. “Is this for real?”
The nerve of this guy. “Give it back.”
“You wrote this list?”
“My sister did. Not that it’s any of your business.”
“And she is . . . where?”
“Dead.” Joy swallowed and briefly looked away.
Dylan’s expression softened. A shadow flashed across his face. “I’m sorry,” he said gently.
“It happened a long time ago.” She gestured for the list. “May I have that back, please? It’s important.”
His eyes narrowed and he studied the ruled paper. “So . . . what’s the deal? She died and you’re completing her bucket list? That’s cool. I can respect that,” he said. Joy didn’t detect any sarcasm. She could almost forgive him for stealing it. Then he had to go and read it. Out loud.
“‘Drive across country in a convertible.’” He looked out the window. “That your Bug out there?”
“The white one? Yes.” She wiggled her fingers for the list.
“Nice car. Suits you. Heading east or west?”
“East.”
“Going to Chicago?”
“Through. I’m moving to New York,” she said with a burst of nervous excitement. Moving cross-country was a big step. Marrying Mark an even bigger step. She showed him her left hand. “My fiancé lives there.” Maybe Dylan would catch a clue with the flash of glittery carbon. She was committed. He was being too forward. All up in her business and in her face when he had no right to be.
“Relationships are a complicated mess. You’ll never see me getting married.” Dylan made a noise in his throat, then dipped his gaze back to the list. “‘Do something spontaneous. Do something daring. Do something dangerous.’ Oh, I like that one. What do you think you’ll do?”
“No clue. Give it back,” she asked, heart racing faster than the speedsters on the highway zipping past the diner. She glanced around, embarrassed. Was anybody hearing this?
He dramatically cleared his throat behind a fist. “‘Sleep under the stars. Dance in the rain. Make a new friend.’” He stopped and frowned again. “How come ‘fall in love’ is crossed off?”
“I’m already in love. Fiancé, remember?” She waggled her ring finger.
“Where is said fiancé?”
“New York.”
His brows drew together in concern. “He didn’t fly out to drive with you?”
“No.” And he didn’t need to know that Mark had asked to join her. This trip was one she had to do without him. Mark didn’t know about Judy’s list or why she felt compelled to complete it: Judy couldn’t. But if getting through this bucket list and Judy’s other goal lists helped Joy atone for a series of mistakes that had cost her sister her life, maybe Joy could make up for the hurt she’d caused. Maybe she wouldn’t feel so ashamed.
But she couldn’t let Mark learn the truth of Judy’s death. Her parents didn’t know, and Joy wouldn’t risk the chance of them finding out. They’d never forgive her, and Joy would lose more than a sister. She’d lose her family.
Dylan stared at her for a moment, then said, “I don’t think this one counts.” He tapped the crossed-out fall in love bullet item. “Shouldn’t everything here happen on Route 66? That’s the purpose of a travel bucket list. You have to do it while on the trip.”
Joy pushed back her shoulders, bristling at the direction of their conversation. Why were they discussing her love life? Leaning across the table, she yanked the list from under his fingers. “Doesn’t matter. It’s not going to happen.”
She didn’t understand why Judy had added that item in the first place. She’d been in love with her boyfriend, Todd, and filled with dreams of marrying him when she wrote the list. And Joy already loved Mark. As far as she was concerned, she intended to keep that line item crossed off.
Dylan’s food arrived. The waitress asked Joy if she’d like dessert.
“No, thanks. Just my check, please.” She should get back on the road if she wanted to make it to Flagstaff by dinner. She’d promised Mark that she wouldn’t drive at night. He didn’t want her to be too tired or else she might fall asleep at the wheel. She’d also call him in the morning before she got on the road and again in the evening after she’d checked into her motel. It was part of their deal. She felt safer and he’d worry less.
Dylan bit into his burger and wiped ketchup off his chin. “So, I’m thinking . . . ,” he began, taking another bite. “We’re both heading east. I have to be in Flagstaff by nightfall. I have a gig. Can I hitch a ride?”
Joy had started shaking her head before Dylan finished his sentence. No. Absolutely not.
“I don’t know you.” Mark would freak if she picked up a stranger on the road. She wasn’t sure she was comfortable driving this guy. He might be crazy good looking, and she might be a smidge too attracted to him, but she’d be alone with him. What if he was a rapist or serial killer? She also didn’t want to put up with his intrusive and obnoxious attitude for the four-plus hours it would take to get there.
Besides, she didn’t drive with passengers unless she absolutely didn’t have a choice.
Dylan ate half his burger, watching her. Daring her, Joy surmised, given his open expression. His gaze dipped to the bucket list. She folded the paper and tucked the list into her purse, out of his sight.