The cab suddenly fell silent as Ryan began fidgeting with the dial. “How about we listen to the radio instead?”

“The tapes, Ryan—come clean—where are you hiding them?”

Again, he went suspiciously quiet.

“You’re not embarrassed, are you? Is it all country music or something?”

He looked at her innocently. “Why would I be embarrassed about that?”

Amy suppressed her urge to giggle and mustered up a straight face. “Fess up, then! Where are they?”

“Well, if I’m being honest, there might be a small problem.”

“And that would be?”

He exchanged an exceptionally dark look with the tape deck before admitting, meekly, that the machine “might’ve chewed them up.”

Amy looked away at once, clamping her hand across her mouth.

“It’s okay. You can laugh.”

“No, I shouldn’t.”

“I know you want to.”

“No, really—” But Amy was unable to hold it in, and she doubled over in her seat, snickering uncontrollably. Her convulsive giggling was so distracting that it drew Ryan’s gaze away from the road. His grip on the wheel slackened, and he started laughing as well.

“It’s great you find it so amusing!”

“I am so, so sorry.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I don’t mean to find it funny. Not at all. I feel terrible!” Her hand flew across her mouth as she tried taking a few short breaths, a desperate attempt to regain some composure. But when she rubbed her eyes and looked to the road, her laughter ended abruptly—they were straying from the road and heading straight for the grassy embankment!

“Ryan! ” Her spine stiffened like a rod and she slapped both hands on the dash. “Turn! ”

Ryan swung his head.

“Whoa! Hold on! ”

He gripped the wheel and pulled hard, but the gravel was loose and the tires wouldn’t stick. They both drew back panicked gasps as the heavy truck skidded toward the wall of dirt. With no time to brake, Ryan’s only option was to lay his foot heavy on the gas and hope like hell the burst of acceleration would help them draw traction. Thankfully, it did—the tires connected with the gravel at the last second and the truck made a violent swerve back onto the road.

Ryan shrunk in his seat, his expression sheepish as he tried to regain his composure and center the truck back in its lane.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

Amy unglued her hands from the dash and placed them flat across her chest. “I’m okay.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” she said, breathing heavily.

“I’m so, so sorry.” He adjusted his grip on the wheel and sat up straighter. “Thank goodness you looked up when you did. Now really isn’t the best time for me to go crashing my father’s truck!”