Page 50 of Heart Strings
“What do mean it’s not a—” Aidan reaches for it, waitingfor the telltale click of a latch that doesn’t come. My eyes dart back to the glass partition between the cargo area and the cab, but there is no hole or gap to snake my hand through. And no obvious button on the dash to release the back door. Aidan’s phone is sitting in the cupholder, so close but out of reach.
“We’ll just call Callum. Sure, it would ruin the surprise, but he’ll tell us how to open it.” I reach for my phone, only to realize it’s still on the front seat of my car. “Okay. So that’s not an option.”
“We’re trapped!” Panic rises in his voice. Suddenly, the humidity of our bodies is too much. “It only opens from the outside. Oh my god. We have to break a window.”
After going out of our way to deliver the hearse to the castle for their photos, we were going to damage it. Fantastic. And I don’t even want to know the cost of replacing one of these wide, etched windows. Maybe we can kick through the barrier instead.
Aidan’s breath comes in shallow pants.
I steady his shoulders. “You’re okay. We’re gonna be okay, like you just said.”
“We aren’t. I’m full of shite.”
I get it: Being trapped in a hearse is one step removed from being buried alive. At least this option has windows. He shuffles along the floor and peers through one. I follow, shoulder to shoulder next to him. A few straggling sheep are on the move. And there’s a shepherd. An older man.
“Hey!” Aidan cries, beating a fist against the etched glass. “In here!”
“What are you doing?”
His eyes widen. “Calling for help.”
“We can handle it,” I assure him. We don’t need this guy asking questions. “There’s got to be a way to pop a window out or something.”
Poor Aidan is sweating again. “Over here! We’re locked in!”
The hearse gently rocks as Aidan knocks on the window to get the shepherd’s attention. I run my hand along the door’s seams, searching blindly for an emergency lever.
“Hey, he sees me.” Aidan looks over his shoulder, eyes full of hope, then bangs on the window again. “Come on, help us. Open the door!”
I poke my head through the curtain and find the elderly man making the sign of the cross. Laughter bursts out of me. He’s in no hurry to investigate a moaning, rocking hearse with frantic hands beating on the windows to escape.
“We’re not dead!” I shout, even though it’s doubtful he can hear us. He takes a step closer, removing his cap as he squints at the vehicle. “And we’re not undead!”
Aidan cocks his head. “That’s not suspicious at all. You might as well be shouting, ‘Braaaains.’ ”
“You were the one moaning.”
My fingertip grazes something cool when I go back to searching for an emergency handle, and I pause. The little nub of metal is the size of a door lock, and I yank up on it.
“Do me a favor and push—”
With a squeak the back door of the hearse swings open. Aidan grabs me by the waist before I go toppling out straight onto my face.
It’s only then that I remember my hair is wild from Aidan’s hands. We’d gotten so preoccupied with the prospect of being trapped that I hadn’t really cleaned myself up, just slipped mybra back on and patted down the worst of my frizz. What we were doing back there is painfully obvious.
I climb out and give the bewildered man a jaunty salute. I’ve never done that in my entire life, but my body is on humiliation autopilot.
Aidan climbs out of the back door. His ginger waves could be considered “artfully tousled.” The sexy disheveled look works for him, whereas I will certainly need the help of the hair and makeup artists Lark hired.
I crook a finger at him. “You’d better not write a song about this.”
He bites back a grin, probably already mentally writing his next summer hit. “But I have the perfect name: ‘Last Ride.’ ”
Chapter 19
Aidan
Lo and Itie white ribbons around the hearse’s bumper. They look so innocent, although I can’t help but associate them with being bound to her bed. Our hands brush as we both reach for the same old tin can. Lo’s gold-flecked eyes snap to mine. It’s odd, the rush I get from the accidental contact. Less than an hour ago, we were wrapped around each other. Her face still glows a little, her smile coming easier after releasing that pent-up tension. God, she’s radiant.
