Page 52 of Call My Bluff
“And what should I bring to wear? You said no jeans.”
Olivia didn’t respond right away. Instead, she scanned his face for further explanation, but it was like he’d wiped it blank. Apparently, she’d found a touchy subject. “Saturday morning,” she said, “coming back Sunday afternoon, if that’s okay? And maybe dress pants for the party.”
Noah nodded in acknowledgement and let out a quiet breath that Olivia only noticed because his shoulders visibly relaxed, like maybe he’d been afraid she would push for more information. “Sunday is fine,” he said. Then his normal impish smirk returned to his face. “Do I get to bunk with you?”
Olivia narrowed her eyes and leveled him with a serious stare. “You’ll sleep on the couch in the den, and the stairs will be booby trapped,” she told him.
Noah stuck out his lower lip in a childish pout that almost made her laugh. “We don’t even get to share a bathroom?” he whined.
She shook her head firmly. “If you talk like that, we won’t even share a roof. My dad is not above pitching you a tent in the driveway.”
He grimaced. “So, you’re telling me to be on my best behavior?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t know if that’s possible.”
“I’m sure you can find a way.”
He groaned as if this would be a huge imposition, and Olivia did her best not to worry. She didn’t know how the weekend would go, but she did know one thing for sure: it would be nothing if not interesting.
14
Noah was standingin the kitchen on Saturday morning, munching the last few spoonfuls of a bowl of cereal and vaguely hoping he’d remembered to put clean underwear in his duffel bag, when a car horn sounded from outside. He sighed and poured his leftover milk down the drain before rinsing his bowl and setting it on the leaning tower of dishware in the sink. Normally he would wash his own dishes, but Conner had so many to do already that one more wouldn’t make any difference.
He flung the strap of his bag over one shoulder and headed to the garage with a distinct feeling of unease in his chest. Keeping up the charade with Olivia was one thing, but he didn’t want to lie to her family. He wasn’t a liar—hehatedliars—but every step he took closer to her car felt like one more move in that direction. He crossed the washed-out gravel driveway toward the idling Mustang before yanking open the passenger’s side door.
“Good morning, honey bug!” Olivia said cheerfully.
“Morning,” he mumbled back. He tossed his duffel into the back seat before sliding in beside her. “Hey, do youmind if I study while you drive?” he asked. He hoped focusing his attention on something besides their destination would help settle his nerves.
She shrugged and took a sip from the silver thermos in her hand. “No. Are you worried about an exam?”
“A little,” he admitted, twisting in his seat so he could unzip the top of his bag and retrieve a thick textbook from the inside. He settled the book on his lap and buckled his seat belt, both literally and figuratively.
“It’s okay if you’re too busy to come. You can stay home and study if you need to,” she offered, and Noah met her gaze head-on.
“Do you want me to come?” he asked bluntly. He didn’t want to intrude if she truly didn’t want him there; this was her chance to give both of them an out.
Olivia’s smile froze for a second, and then she covered it with the thermos again and took another sip. “Mom is excited to meet you,” she said once she’d swallowed.
That didn’t answer his question, but Noah chose not to press the issue. He was packed; he was in the car; he was going. End of discussion. “Alright, then it’s settled,” he told her, and he offered what he hoped was a reassuring smile.
Olivia studied him for another second before replacing her thermos in the center cupholder and putting the Mustang into reverse. “Okay, away we go!” she declared as the car backed out onto the asphalt. Seconds later they were flying down State Route 22, and Noah was trying to focus on the chapter headings in the book in front of him.
But it only took ten minutes for him to decide it wasn’t going to work. This had to be the most boring class he’d ever taken, and the words were simply bouncing around inside his skull like ping-pong balls. It didn’t help that the whole car smelledlike her, and the sharp, citrus scent was making his brain fuzzy. He looked over at Olivia, who had remained surprisingly quiet while he was reading, and caught her peeking toward the pages in his lap.
“What is all of that?” she asked when she met his eye.
He sighed and settled deeper into the seat cushions. “Evaluation and Assessment of Psychomotor Skills,” he parroted, reading straight from the cover of the book. “It’s riveting.”
“Sounds like it,” she said dryly, and she lifted her drink with the hand that wasn’t on the wheel. “So, a physical therapist, huh?”
“Yep.”
“Why?”
“Well, all the underwater basket-weaving classes were full.”
