"If we're going on a road trip, we're going to eat road food," he said.
She wrinkled her nose.
"My help, my rules," he reminded her.
"I hate this already."
"I'm no more thrilled than you are." He tossed her bag into the bed of the truck then headed for the driver's seat. When she was safely beside him and buckled in, he started the engine and pulled away. "I'll call the guys and get the sub-foreman to cover for me for the next couple days."
"Why the hell would it take days?" Zoe practically cried.
He shrugged. "You never know. Now, come on. We've got to go to my place before we hit the road."
At the end of this, Quinn was going to owe him. Big.
Two
"I still don't understand why in the hell you had to come up here," Ian said.
Zoe rolled her eyes. "Believe me, I take no pleasure in being here. I just think it's more time efficient if we come up with a list together."
"A list?" He opened the apartment door, his strong lips pursed in obvious frustration.
"Yes, of places Quinn might have gone. Obviously, I called a few friends she works with at the elementary school, and we checked her apartment, but you'd know where she goes better than I would, so…" She slung her purse lower on her arm then pulled out her emergency notepad and matching pen.
"Let me guess. That set has your name on it?"
Heat rushed to her cheeks. In the corner of the tablet, there were little rose buds, and the vines swooped around elaborate lettering that read "From the Mind of Zoe Andrews."
"None of your business," she snapped. "Now, let's get to work."
She glanced over at him, but in truth, she was pretty sure he already had his work cut out for him without the list. His apartment—which she happened to know he'd moved into six months ago—was still lined with boxes. A sofa sat in the middle of the living room, directly across from a TV without a stand.
This, she knew, was typical Ian. He worked too much and traveled even more, which hardly left time for him to spruce up the place. In fact, as she watched him stuffing clothes into a grocery store tote bag, she noticed that he was opening boxes strategically to gather his things.
Other than the chaos though, she had to admit the place was nice. Hardwood stretched across all the floors, and genuine marble counters lined his sizable kitchen. It was an open floor plan with bright, modern light fixtures that would have looked chic and elegant if there had been anything around to compliment them.
"This is how you live? Out of boxes?" She couldn't stop herself from asking.
"The boxes are labeled." He kicked the box she stood in front of, and she saw the word "Shirts" scrawled in his sloppy handwriting. "I thought you'd appreciate it. Efficiency and all."
She pursed her lips. "Let's just focus on the list."
She crossed the room and plopped onto the couch, but tapped her pen against the pad of paper. "I had her friends check the art store and bookstores in town and in the neighboring area."
"That's good."
"It is." She let out a deep breath through her nose. "She probably wouldn't go anywhere Paul might be able to find her, though. Would she?"
"I have no idea." Ian shrugged. "What do you think?"
She narrowed her eyes. "I think you're being less than useful."
"Fine." He raised his hands in mock defense. "Well, she's not exactly good with money, is she? She'd want to go somewhere she could stay for free for more than one night."
"So no hotels, you think?" Zoe asked.
"No hotels. Did you check your house?"