Page 31 of You, with a View

Theo’s voice is sexy in person, but over the phone it’s lethal. Thank god he balanced it out by being irritating.

“Okay, first of all,hello.” I sit up, blinking into the velvet darkness of my room. “Second of all, how’d you get my number?”

“Got it from my granddad.”

Paul’s a traitor. Noted. “We’ll skip to the third point, then: Why are you calling me? Couldn’t you just text whatever you need to say? What kind of millennial are you? We’re supposed to be afraid of calling people.”

His sigh is all-suffering, leftover tension pulling it tight. “I want to make sure you’re fine with all of this. You were suspiciously without words at the end there, and that’s unlike you.”

It vexes me that he knows me well enough to say that. “I... well, I was in shock. It’s one thing for Paul to want to come, but you?” I pick up steam as my thoughts finally crystallize. “You weren’t even into it. Are you going because you’re running away from something, or do you not trust me on the road with Paul? Are you chaperoning us in case I lead us astray and we stumble off a cliff? I promise I’m notthatinept.”

I stumble to a stop with a grimace.Maybe a little too revealing, Noelle.

“I don’t think you’re inept at all,” he says. I don’t know if it’s the timbre of it or the steel behind his words, but I actually believe him.

“Then what is it?”

He hesitates, reluctant. “My granddad was right. I need to get away from the city for a couple weeks. It’s been a long time since I had any kind of vacation.”

“And you want that vacation to be a road trip with your grandfather and old nemesis?”

He laughs. It’s a soft sound, less stressed than before. “This isn’t an episode ofScooby-Doo, Shepard. You were never my nemesis. You were my...” I hate how I hold my breath. “My motivation.”

I have no idea what to make of that. It sounds diabolical, but everything he says does. It certainly doesn’t sound like a compliment, though if anyone else said it, I’d take it that way.

“Well, whatever.” I stand, letting out a quiet moan as my back cracks. “You could fuck off to Turks and Caicos or something, but road trip it is. Are you fine with me taking care of booking everything?”

“We should hash out some of the details together,” he says. “That’s the other reason I called.”

“Okay.” I drag the word through my annoyance. “I’ll text you links to stuff, then, and you can yea or nay me.”

“Granddad wrote me out a long-ass list of activities. I’m assuming you’ll want to see it, so let’s do it in person.”

“In person?”

“Yes, like where I see your face and you see my face and we exchange words in the same room.”

My heart prances like a nervous Chihuahua. “Who says I want to see your face?”

“You’re gonna have to get used to it.”

My mind gets busy sketching out a visual—the broad, angular cut of his jaw, those deep, probing eyes, and the mouth that doesn’t let me get away with anything. That damn dimple.

“We can get it done in one night.” His tone is so cajoling and soft it’s almost a croon. It’s a tone for darkness. For bedrooms.

He knows it, too. I can practically hear his smirk when I sigh. “Okay. Why don’t I come to your place? Tuesday evening? I’d like to get everything settled as soon as possible.”

“Oh.” There’s a beat of surprised silence. “You want to come to my place?”

Well, he’s certainly not coming tomyplace, unless he wants to meet the parents, and a café isn’t going to give us the room andtime to plan. “We’ll need reliable Wi-Fi and a place to spread out.” I realize how that sounds a second too late and rush on to say, “Spread out notes and the map and stuff.”

“Right.” I’m gratified by how uncomfortable he sounds. “Fine. I’ll text you my address.” There’s a short pause. “Do you like steak?”

My stomach growls shamelessly. “It’s fine.”

“I’ll cook, then. Be here at seven.”

He doesn’t wait for me to respond; the line goes dead and I pull back, staring down at my phone screen.

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