“Which means your father hid the treasure on a piece of land that you and Robbie don’t own. He’s expecting you to trespass, locate the treasure, and get away carrying diamonds or cash or a Fabergé egg.”
She laughed.
He cocked a questioning eyebrow.
“It’s just that a Fabergé egg is the last thing I would’ve expected you to mention.”
“It’s the last thing I planned to mention. Forget I said that. It’s not manly.”
She’d trade a year’s worth of herbal tea for permission to slide her hand into his silky, overgrown hair. “Just you watch.” She placed the map on the side table. “We’ll find the treasure, and itwillbe a Fabergé egg.”
“You were supposed to forget I said that.”
“Never.” She brought up a Google Earth image of northern Georgia on her computer. “Historically, my dad doesn’t plant clues farther than a three-hour drive from my house. It’s a safe bet to conclude that the treasure is buried somewhere inside that radius.”
She zoomed in so that even small country roads came into view.
Starting with her home and working outward, they hunted for a configuration of stream, roads, and pond that matched her map.
After thirty fruitless minutes, her eyes started to cross from a combination of strain and impatience. “This might take a lot oftime. Maybe even days. While I’m very enthusiastic about this new development and incredibly impressed by you, since it turns out you’re a bit of a mastermind—”
“I am not a mastermind.”
“I’m thinking we should table this for tonight and pick it up tomorrow. Squinting at my computer for the rest of the evening wasn’t exactly what I had in mind for my Saturday night.”
“Okay. I’ll head back to my apartment—”
“No.” She may have responded a littletoovehemently. It seemed she’d unintentionally placed a hand on his leg just above his knee to hold him in place. She kept it there because touching him was like receiving a transfusion of pleasure. “Sally, Rufus, Dudley, and I were planning to start a movie. Will you please stay and watch it with us?”Say yes. Say yes.
“What movie?”
“The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants, but I’m willing to switch to something different. What type of shows do you like?”
“Sports and documentaries.”
Just when she’d pegged him as an action-thriller movie type of man, he’d surprised her. “I could go for a high-quality, informative documentary. Which one?”
“I’m watching Ken Burns’s documentary on World War Two.”
“I’m open to that.”
He looked skeptical. “You want to spend your Saturday night watching episodes in a seven-part series on a bloody and depressing war?”
“My dad was the history buff in our family. It would be edifying for me to learn new things.”
“Go ahead with the movie you picked out.”
“Only if you’ll watch it, too. I’ll make us vegan peanut butter chocolate chip cookie bars.” She interlaced her hands in front of her chest into a begging position.
“I’ll stay because I can’t say no to vegan cookie bars.”
They bantered while they mixed cookie dough. Once she slidthe pan into the oven, she rounded up her pets and they all settled in for the movie.
“Is this a thirty-year-old TV?” Luke asked.
“Dad bought it for my college dorm room, so it’s twelve years old.”
“You’re watching a twelve-year-old thirty-two-inch TV that doesn’t have high def and can’t stream apps like Netflix?”
