He smiled at her for a second before he turned back to the road.

“I had a feeling that’s what I should do, so I’m glad my instinct was correct.”

She reached into her tote bag for her water bottle and drained it, and then grabbed the second one she had in there and offered it to Ben.

“Water? Driving is hard work.”

He reached for it, and she uncapped the top before she handed it to him. He took a big gulp and gave it back to her.

“Thanks, you’re right, I was thirsty. I usually plan better with snacks for things like this, but at least something did tell me to fill up my gas tank this morning.” He grimaced. “Well, the ‘something’ was probably my gas light coming on yesterday on the way home from work, now that I think about it, but hey, I’ve driven for at least two days with that thing on before, so I’m still going to take credit for a smart decision.”

Anna thought for a minute about what would have happened if they’d had to stop for gas before continuing down south. She would have had more time to rethink this ridiculous plan, she would have thought of multiple other ways to get to Palm Springs, and she wouldn’t be in this car with Ben right now. She smiled to herself. She was glad he’d stopped for gas this morning, too.

Soon they saw the brightly lit In-N-Out sign from the freeway, and Ben zipped off the exit and drove them straight to the drive-through.

“I assume you don’t want to go inside,” he said. “I mean, I doubt there will be paparazzi here, but . . .”

She laughed and shook her head.

“Yeah, no, drive-through is great. We should eat in the parking lot, though—I want you to get a break from driving. Plus, I’m sure we’ll both want a bathroom break.” She lifted the water bottle. “And to fill these up for the rest of the trip.”

“What’s your order?” Ben asked as the In-N-Out guy with the walkie-talkie came toward them.

“Cheeseburger, Protein Style, with chiles. Fries and a Diet Coke, please.”

After he ordered, Anna reached into her wallet and grabbed a twenty.

“Here,” she said.

He took it without arguing with her, thank goodness. Men either seemed to want to sponge off of her, or got insulted when she paid for things, no matter how small. Ben definitely wasn’t the latter, at least.

When they pulled into a parking spot with their food, Ben turned off the car and sighed.

“Tired?” she asked. She was glad he’d parked near a light, so she could see his face clearly.

“Just need to stretch a little.” He unsnapped his seat belt and threw open the door. “I’m going to stand up for a second, but I’m going to attack that burger very shortly, don’t worry.”

Ben got out of the car and stretched his arms up high, and then bent down to touch his toes. He faced the front of the car, so Anna had a perfect view of his profile. Or, rather, the profile of his ass. She bit her lip. What a view it was. The man wasn’t a backup dancer anymore, but wow, did he still have an excellent body. When he straightened up, she tore her eyes away from him and reached into the bag for her burger.

“Oh God, I didn’t realize how hungry I was,” she said after the first bite.

Ben sat down and picked up his own burger.

“I’m starving,” he said. “Neither of us has eaten since, what, those brownies on set this afternoon?”

She took a sip of her Diet Coke.

“Sorry I fell asleep,” she said. “We should have stopped earlier to eat—that was my fault.”

Ben waved that off.

“Don’t worry about it. If I’d known I would be this hungry, I would have sped through a drive-through while you slept.”

He picked up his phone and checked the directions.

“We’ve made excellent time, by the way. Only about three more hours to go.”

He reached for his drink and then dropped his hand and stared at her.

“I just realized something. You could have flown to L.A. Tonight, I mean—there are a zillion flights from SFO to all of the L.A. airports; you could have gotten one. And then you could have rented a car or gotten a driver or something to get you to Palm Springs.”

She nodded.

“I know,” she said before she thought about it.

“You knew?” He stared at her. Now she wished there wasn’t quite so much light in this car.

She reached for a fry so she wouldn’t have to meet his eyes.

“I realized that at some point after we’d gotten on 5. But by that time, it was too late.”

That wasn’t precisely, exactly true. She’d realized it when they were only about thirty minutes into the drive, when there was still time to tell him to turn around and take her back to SFO. Her assistant absolutely could have gotten her on an L.A. flight at that point, and she definitely could have gotten a driver to pick her up and take her to Palm Springs.

But she’d realized it right when he’d made her laugh about the podcast thing, and right after he’d casually referred to her as one of the most beautiful women in America. The amazing thing was, she knew he hadn’t said that to flatter her; he’d said it so matter-of-factly, it blew her mind. Sure, people had been calling her beautiful for years; it wasn’t like she didn’t know she was attractive. But somehow, the way he’d said that, and the way he’d talked to her, the way he’d made her laugh, had all calmed her down, had just made her feel so warm inside. She’d known she wanted to stay in this cozy little car, with Ben cheering her up and helping her relax and making her feel comfortable. And when she realized that instead she could get on a plane, the thought of making him turn around, of going through the airport alone, and trying to avoid people and not letting them see her or take pictures of her while she was so anxious and scared, and dealing with the long, cold drive to Palm Springs from LAX alone and friendless in the back seat of some town car or SUV felt so sad and scary and lonely.

She’d almost told him to turn around anyway, but then she pictured herself having an anxiety attack during the flight, surrounded by strangers and people looking at her, and she knew she didn’t want to get out of this car. Here, in the car with Ben, was a happy place, full of dancing and conversations about snacks and pop music and someone she felt safe and comfortable with. No matter what was at the end of the drive, she had this. She needed it.

But now she felt guilty for forcing him on this road trip when she’d had another option. She was Anna Gardiner, after all; she had more money than she knew what to do with—she probably could have chartered a plane if she’d needed to. But no, instead, she’d made this unsuspecting guy—whose job probably depended on making her happy—drive her five hundred miles?