Page 57 of The Voice We Find

“My sister-in-law, Natalie.”

“And will a formal introduction be included in my future VIP tour?”

I laugh. “Potentially.”

The second he pulls out of the driveway, my entire body sags in relief. We made it, I think, and without a run-in with Jasper. I’m on the tail end of a deep exhale when I spot August’s large water thermos in the cup holder.

“Mind if I pop the lid off your thermos and use it as a flower vase?”

“Be my guest.”

Once my flowers are properly hydrated, August rotates his head, eyeing me with great suspicion. “How long are we supposed to pretend that wasn’t weird back there?”

“Back where?”

“Sophie.” He deadpans. “I feel like I’m driving a getaway car.”

I laugh, although his words land a little too close to home. I touch his forearm. “Sorry. I’m just really excited to be going to dinner with you tonight.”

This, at least, causes the corners of his lips to tick north. “About that, would you care to provide me with the address of where you made our reservations?”

“I didn’t make a reservation.”

“What?” The car swerves. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

I say nothing.

“Sophie, I know you haven’t been back in the area for long, but there is next to a zero percent chance we’ll be able to walk into any restaurant around here on a Saturday without a reservation.”

“Which is exactly why I’d hoped we could go somewhere not around here. Is that okay with you?”

“Of course.” He glances my way. “I told you I’d take you anywhere you wanted to go.” The tension in his shoulders relaxes. “Where do you have in mind?”

“Bodega Bay.”

He whips his head toward me. “Bodega Bay?”

“Yeah, why? Is that too far?” In reality it’s only a thirty-minute drive to the west, but by the baffled look on August’s face, my suggestion seems outrageous.

“No, no. It’s not too far,” he says. “It’s just... Whythatbeach?”

“Because it’s one of the last places I remember being truly happy before I moved away. I went there right after I found out I got accepted to NYU.” The night before I told my parents.

August remains contemplative as he steers us onto the highway, and I wish I could read his mind.

“I’m guessing you’ve been there before?” I pry.

“Many times. It’s where my dad taught me to surf.”

My jaw slacks. Of all the beaches in the area, I go and choose the worst one for him. “Oh. August. We can totally go somewhere else, there are so many other—”

He moves his hand to my arm, and my skin sings at his touch. “No, it’s only good memories for me there, too. It’s still where I go to surf, any time I can.”

I set my free hand atop his. “Okay, then, as long as you’re sure.”

“I am. Although...” A line of concern marks his brow. “What about food? The area isn’t known for its fancy dining.”

“No, but itisknown for fresh fish tacos and chips and salsa, and in my opinion, that beats caviar and escargot any night of the week.” I wiggle my eyebrows at him. “Plus, we can get it to go.”

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