“What’s that?” I whisper.
“El Misti,” our driver says. “The volcano of Arequipa.”
It lifts out of the horizon in an almost perfect triangle, with two juts at the tip and folds of green and brown earth cascading down its sides like the pleats of a skirt. The base of the volcano must be miles from here, but something about the way it presents itself to us—to all of Arequipa—gives me the sense that I could reach out and touch it.
I scoot closer to Will, who leans back against his seat so I can get a better view. Between the volcano and our car is an entire city. Tall bushes of flowers with pink and orange petals shoot past as we drive, lining the road and creeping up the man-made structures. The sky is an azure color, starker somehow compared to Austin’s constant haze of dust and pollen.
“Have you ever done this before?” Will asks. When I tear my eyes off the window, I catch him gazing down at me.
“Fled the country with a man?”
“Visited a supplier.”
“Yes. I’ve done on-site visits in New Mexico, California, and New York.”
“So, you’ve never traveled abroad for work?”
I shake my head. “When I initially selected Revenant’s foreign suppliers, it was all facilitated remotely. By the time we grew enough to add more suppliers, I had the supply chain team, who took care of abroad visits.”
“But this time you asked to go yourself,” Will notes.
“Yeah, well. Stuey’s on paternity leave, and with the B Corp review coming up, I wanted to be sure all our new suppliers are exactly the perfect fit.”
Will nods, concealing a private amusement behind his eyes.Beyond the driver’s front window, the downtown area of the city comes into view.
“Hungry?” Will asks.
“If I say yes, are you going to block me from eating something at the hotel?”
He sighs. “Josie, you cannot eathotel foodas your first meal in Peru.”
“They always have a vegetarian option,” I say defensively.
“I’ll get you some vegetables, don’t you worry,” Will grumbles, “if you trust me enough to come into the city with me.”
Our driver pulls onto the main thoroughfare, where our hotel sits proudly. The streets are crowded with locals heading to work, and even this early, there are shops and restaurants open in droves, soft music coming from a café with an outdoor patio, tables and chairs spilling onto the sidewalk. When we climb out of the car I’m hit once more with a rush of warm desert air.
Will smoothly tips our driver with soles (I’m not even sure when he acquired them, but it was probably when I was half-asleep waiting to board in Lima). He grabs both of our suitcases and wheels them toward the hotel lobby. When I try to protest, Will shoots me a glare.
“Ten minutes,” he says.
“Ten minutes ofwhat?”
“Freshening up. That’s how long it’s going to take me. After that, I’m leaving the hotel. And I think you should come with me.”
We pause the conversation while we check in and immediately pick it back up as we head for the elevators.
“I should probably get some work done,” I say.
“Suit yourself,” Will says. “I’m not going to force it.”
He knows what he’s doing. He’s making me admit I want to spend the day with him. Not because he pressured me but because he merelyinvitedme.
“What do I wear?” I ask. If I don’t have the right outfit, I’m not going.
“Something you’d want to explore in.”
“Explore in?”
