Page 33 of You, with a View

“Yes, breathe less, Spencer, that’s exactly what I mean.”

An amused huff hits the nape of my neck, but Theo doesn’t sayanything else. In the resulting silence, my keystrokes on my laptop sound like thunderclaps.

We’re set up at the kitchen island post-dinner, and Theo’s been curved over me for the past ten minutes, watching as I add to our itinerary. Distracting me.

As we ate on the back patio earlier, I eyed Theo between our fits of sparring, wondering what his life looks like. Not the one printed inForbesor any of the myriad industry rags he’s mentioned in, hisactuallife inside this house when he’s not Theo Spencer, CFO. It was jarring to realize I actually want to know.

I refuse to think too hard about why that is.

Once dinner was over, we moved into the kitchen to get to work. I emptied out my bag, popped open my laptop, and let Theo spread out the map, trying not to notice the way his palms smoothed over the paper, how his thumbs circled the curled-up edges, coaxing them into flatness.

But I’m wine lubricated, and so is he. My eyes have been lingering, and over the past hour he’s been slowly swaying his way into my personal space.

Now I’m painfully aware of how close he is, the way his body lines up against mine. I’m tall, but so is he, and so his chest brushes right up against my shoulder blades, his jaw grazing against my ear every time he leans in to look at my screen. When he pressed up against my back, complaining about one of the hikes I put down for Yosemite, I nearly turned around. To push him away or pull him closer, I still don’t know.

But if he doesn’t stop breathing down my neck, one option is inevitable.

“I’m not going to type faster with you staring at the screen,” I say.

“Well, you sure as hell can’t type any slower.”

I turn my head until his face comes into my periphery, letting my finger descend onto thefkey.

“Let me guess, the next letter isu,” he says dryly.

“Sorry, you’ll have to buy a vowel.”

“Pretty sure I can solve the puzzle, Shepard.”

God, he’s annoying, and yet I have to press my lips together so he won’t see my cheek rise in a smile. He’s close enough to catch the barest twitch. Which means he’s still too close.

I push my elbow into the hard slab of his stomach. “Seriously, I can’t do this with you up my ass.”

Theo’s wicked, smoky snicker winds its way down my spine as he steps away. “Let me buy you a drink first.”

“It would take more than one, trust me,” I mutter.

We’ve got a robust plan filled out on an Excel spreadsheet now, although it took an exorbitant amount of back-and-forth to get there. Our first stop in Yosemite is fully booked via the Where To Next site, as is our overnighter in Las Vegas. We’ve plotted out our Utah and Arizona stops, too.

“We should do an Airbnb outside of Zion,” I muse, clicking through the site.

“Sure, whatever.”

“I bookmarked a few options. Do you want to look?”

He shakes his head, leaning an elbow on the counter as his gaze roams over the mess I’ve made. “You’re the boss here.”

Something like purpose flares in my chest. I am the boss, at least in this little corner of my life, and getting to fill that role over Theo feels unsurprisingly good.

Still, he’s playinghistypical role to perfection. “Funny, since you’ve fought me on every decision so far.”

“Not every decision, but we’re not camping with an octogenarian.”

I sigh, toggling over to an adorable cabin outside the park. “I know I’m going to pick a place, and you’re going to bitch about it when we get there.”

Theo lifts a lazy shoulder. “You know my requirements.”

“Yeah, yeah, enough rooms and beds for all,” I mumble, exiting out of the site. I’ll figure it out later.

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