Page 1 of Ocotillo Kisses
Prologue
Fifteenminutes. Con McKay had been fifteen minutes late getting home last Friday, and because his dad had been in a mood, he’d taken the keys to Con’s big red truck for the rest of the school year.
Con was a senior, for crying out loud. He shouldn’t be riding the bus with a bunch of underclassmen.
The only perk was, since he wasn’t driving, his girlfriend Britt Fraser also had to ride the bus. At least he could spend the forty five minute ride to their high school in the next town snuggling with her, sneaking kisses and caresses until they were both worked up. He liked starting his day with her, finishing his day with her.
Occasionally, the bus driver, Mrs. Driscoll, had caught them when he’d forgotten to be discreet, though she’d been more embarrassed about it than he had.
His younger sister Claudia stared morosely out of the bus shelter at the pounding rain. “I can’t believe Dad wouldn’t let up on your punishment for just one day so we didn’t have to ride the bus in this.”
To be honest, he wouldn’t have been crazy about driving in this downpour. West Texas didn’t get a lot of rain, but this storm was heavy and had been going on since before he woke up. He had to go out to feed the horses before school, make sure they were secure, and man, had he been a mess when he got back to the house. So yeah, he was just as glad not to be driving in this weather.
But he couldn’t say that to his sister, the perfect one. She would have never gotten her truck taken away, even if she’d been an hour late. If she had, she would have been able to cajole her dad into giving it back to her so she wouldn’t have to ride the bus in the rain.
No, he shouldn’t think that way. Sure, she was their dad’s favorite, but she looked up to Con, no matter how he tried to shake her off.
When the bus pulled up in a gush of water from beneath the tires, the brakes giving a loud huff, he bolted from the shelter, through the rain, and took the tall steps in one leap, arriving to the cheers of the underclass boys, who were, if he was honest, another reason riding the bus wasn’t so bad. He flopped into the seat in front of Austin Driscoll, the bus driver’s son, and Javi Saldivar, while his sister Claudia went to sit in the back of the bus with one of the town girls, Bridget Tippler.
“I guess you won’t be staying for baseball practice today?” Austin asked, his voice bright, too bright for this early in the morning.
Con scowled out the window, sheeted with rain. “Unless it’s not raining this bad in Kimmel.”
“So you’ll be riding the bus home?” Javi’s voice was hopeful.
He’d fought long and hard with his dad about getting to join the baseball team. He played football in the fall, no problem, because his dad had played football, too, but spring was a busy time at the ranch. Colts being born, last year’s colts needing to be broken. His dad hadn’t wanted to spare him to another sport.
Thankfully Claudia had stepped up to defend him. Though his sister was a freshman, she had said she’d help their dad at the ranch so Con could play baseball. The thing was, if he had his truck, he’d only be getting home about an hour later when he stayed for baseball practice than he would have if he rode the bus.
Yeah, so he would have time to help out his dad when he got home. If he still had his truck.
He listened to the younger boys blabber about the baseball team’s record—mediocre at best—and his stats—better than average, but a little creepy that they kept track—but his head was already filled with Britt as they approached her family’s ranch and the bus slowed.
Her bus stop was an actual little hut on the side of the road, because generations of her family had lived here. She dashed up the steps of the school bus, closing her umbrella and flinging her wet hair back so droplets sprayed everywhere.
Of course, she was always beautiful, that long blonde hair, those big blue eyes, and that body...
Con surged from his seat in one movement, right in the middle of one of Javi’s sentences, he was sure, to corral Britt in one arm and pull her down to a seat out of Mrs. Driscoll’s line of vision.
Man, Britt smelled good. He turned his face into her hair, brushed the length of it back over her shoulder to sniff the nape of her neck. She held herself stiffly, which wasn’t like her.
“Why did you have to get grounded?” she grumbled. “I can’t believe we have to ride the bus in this weather.”
“Don’t forget, you’re the reason I was late.” He hadn’t been able to pull himself from her arms as they made out next to her family’s pool. Her parents had already gone to bed, and she had looked so good in that bikini.
“Your dad is so strict.”
“I don’t want to talk about my dad,” he said, sliding his palm up the thigh of her soft jeans. She usually wore skirts, so he didn’t know if her choice of jeans was because of the weather, or because she wanted to punish him for making her ride the bus in the rain.
The bus came to a sudden stop. Con flung his hand out to prevent them from slamming into the seat in front of them, shouting, “Hey!” in protest. He straightened as much as he could in the seat to look toward the front of the bus, but suddenly the back of the bus whipped sideways, aiming the front toward the side of the road.
And then the bus dropped to its side, the sensation like an amusement park ride, only he was falling without a harness, down to the other side of the bus. The back of a seat caught his waist, knocking the breath out of him, but giving him enough time to grab the seat so that he didn’t crush Britt as she disappeared beneath the water.
Beneath the water? What the hell? Dirty water flowed into the bus beneath him. Con was able to hold himself up above the water, his knees on the edge of the seat. He reached down and pulled a sputtering Britt above the surface. She draped herself over the back of the seat in front of him, scraping her wet hair out of her face, while he scanned the bus. They were on their side, but moving through the water. They’d been swept into the gully, which no doubt flooded with all the rain. They had to get out of the bus—or get the water out of the bus, at least.
The escape hatch was just to his left. Maybe they could get out that way, just open it and get out.
He wasn’t prepared for the screech of the alarm as he spun the wheel keeping it closed, as he started to push it open against the thrust of the water.
