“Really,” he said, and accelerated into the sun-spangled road ahead.
THE PINK-GOLD LIGHT rested warm on his smiling face as Alex wrapped up his fourth and final segment of the day. “Anyway, if you travel to Morro Bay, there are two main things you have to remember. One, there’s a rock shaped like a t—uh, breast. Two, protect your braaaaaaains at all costs. That’s basically all you need to know.”
Although this was definitively not a real travel show, she couldn’t let such a major oversight stand. “Also, Hearst Castle isn’t too far away, and I hear it’s well worth a visit.”
“You’ve never been?” He furrowed his brow at her briefly before turning back to the road. “Maybe we should have a castle-off on our way back down the coast. Mano a mano. Or, rather, castle-o a castle-o. Mine against Hearst’s. Who do you think would win, Wren?”
She didn’t hesitate. “Hearst.”
He gasped loudly, outraged. “How dare you?”
“I’m a philistine, clearly.” The light was going fast, and she wanted to take a few pictures of the sunset with her own camera before nightfall. “Say goodbye, Alex.”
“Goodbye, Alex,” he parroted in a sing-song voice.
She shook her head. “Smartass.”
When he grinned happily at her, she tapped the screen to stop filming. Only to notice, as she settled back in her seat, a two-lane sea of red brake lights maybe thirty seconds ahead of them, with absolutely no cars coming toward them. Not a good sign.
Alex slowed in preparation for the backup. “What’s going on?”
“Is that smoke?” She squinted in the gathering darkness, and yes. That was definitely smoke in the distance. Not an enormous amount, but enough to cast a growing haze. “Let me see if I can figure out what’s happening.”
The GPS, now that she was paying attention, indicated stopped traffic, but didn’t note a reason for it. Luckily, the freeway information number proved more helpful.
After listening to the message, she ended the call and relayed the bad news. “Evidently, there’s a brushfire at the side of the road ahead, so we’re getting detoured. No estimate about how long the road will be closed.”
He groaned. “Shit. This is going to take forever.”
The sun had sunk below the oceanic horizon, and he tossed his sunglasses into the center console, his brow furrowed.
“Once we’re on the detour, what do you want to do?” she asked.
In her mind, there was only one good choice, but he might not agree.
His fingers drummed against the steering wheel as he braked to a halt. “The detour road will be slower, obviously. And because we’ll be heading inland, we’ll have to go over the mountains, which means driving on twisty roads that aren’t well lit at night. We’d intended to make it farther, but …”
“Let’s stop for the day and wait until the roads are clear,” she finished for him, relieved that they were in agreement.
At his insistence, they hadn’t made reservations for particular hotels or tourist sites—he’d wanted to keep their schedule relaxed and spontaneous—so they had nothing to cancel. Stopping early made complete sense.
He nodded decisively. “We have a plan.”
Two extremely slow-moving hours later, after Alex had serenaded her with various off-key ’90s hits and she’d actively contemplated the merits of hitchhiking, they reached their first decent-looking hotel. Only to find that they couldn’t reserve a room, despite the deployment of his most charming smile.
“I’m so sorry, but we’re completely full, and so are all the other nearby hotels. I just checked for another couple a few minutes ago.” The clerk at the front desk winced in apology. “With the PCH closed, people wanted to stop for the night. And Hearst Castle is having an event, so most places between here and San Simeon are probably booked too.”
Shit. They needed someplace to rest. Dark circles had appeared beneath Alex’s eyes, and they wouldn’t both survive two more hours of his unique vocal stylings.
Who would die, she couldn’t say. But definitely one of them.
“Do you have any suggestions?” Alex leaned his elbows on the counter and scrubbed his face with both hands. “Someplace within easy driving distance that might have vacancies?”
“Maybe check around Cambria? There are B and Bs there, and a few motels. Nothing fancy, but …” The clerk lifted a shoulder. “I wish I had better news for you, Mr. Woodroe.”