“I’m looking for Evie. I was told she’d be working today,” I say.
“She called out sick.”
I swear under my breath as I sit on the stool to think. He leans across the bar toward me and lets his eyes rove obviously over my body. “I mix a better Aperol Spritz than she does. Want one?” He reaches for a large wineglass.
“No, thanks. I just really need to talk to Evie. Do you know any way that I could contact her?”
“Are y’all friends?”
“She helped me out the other night while she was working and held on to something important. I was supposed to pick it up today because I have an early flight in the morning.” I figure it doesn’t hurt to tweak the story to make me sound less like a stalker going off a vague hunch that she might have stolen my book.
He grabs a napkin and a pen from his apron and scribbles two phone numbers after glancing at his contacts list. “Evie’s and mine,” he says with a suggestive wink. “In case you’re looking to work up a sweat tonight.”
“What a charming offer.” I snatch the napkin out of his fingers and hightail it out of the bar.
I sit on the curb while I dial Evie’s phone number. West’s eyebrows skyrocket when he sees both phone numbers. “Who’s Evie? And who’sZach?” he asks, his expression darkening.
“Don’t worry about it.” Evie’s phone is ringing.
“This was the errand you needed me for? Copping phone numbers?”
His tone makes the hair on my arms stand up. “Calm down.” I roll my eyes as Evie’s phone sends me to voicemail. I hang up.
“Was that bartender hitting on you?”
“Yes.”
“And you took his number?”
“Yes.”
He grinds his molars, looking possibly more annoyed than I’ve seen him all weekend. I type a text explaining the situation and send it to Evie. She responds in less than a minute with confirmation and an address. I stand up as the first raindrop hits the sidewalk.
“What now? Do I get to help you get ready for your date?” West asks dryly.
“No. But you do get to take me for a drive.”
The address Evie sent is in the foothills on the north side of town. As we drive out of downtown Tucson, the landmarks turn from university buildings and housing developments to cacti and mountains. Even with the drizzly sky, it’s stunning. “I forgot how pretty the desert is.”
I feel the weight of West’s gaze on my profile. “Would you ever move back?”
I laugh in surprise. “Why would I?”
“Just making conversation, Darling.”
By the time the road begins to rise in elevation, the rain is coming down steadily. West’s fingers are drumming on the steering wheel, and I take sick pleasure in knowing that he’s stewing over the napkin in my lap. I stare at it and pretend to contemplate giving Zach a text, but eventually the pretending stops, and Iamcontemplating it.
He’s cute. He’s interested. It’d be easy. I could stop by the bar tonight and flirt a little. Maybe more. I could have one night of uncomplicated fun before going back home, and I’ve never wanted anything less.
I glance sideways at West, who is tense and frustrated and more than a little annoyed that I’ve dragged him here with zero information. We have about eighteen hours left until my flight leaves, give or take. Eighteen hours until we slip seamlessly back into our lives and this weekend becomes another footnote in our history. Since the first day West kissed me, it’s felt like I’ve only ever had him in brief moments. And I realize now that I’d rather spend the rest of this weekend with him than waste even a minute of it with anyone else.
“I didn’taskfor his phone number,” I say at last.
West’s shoulders relax marginally. “Are you going to tell me where we’re going?”
I wave the napkin in the air. “I left something at the bar, and this employee has it.”
“That’s it?” He eyes me skeptically.
