I turn slightly pink at Bareback Peak. Obviously, it was named before the slang took off, but I can’t believe no one has changed the name since then.
“And these dots on the napkin look like where we found old trees cut down,” he finishes.
Finally, he looks up at me, still leaning over the table.
“How’d you figure this out?” he asks.
I shrug.
“Came to me in a dream,” I say.
It didn’t. I couldn’t sleep Sunday night, so instead, I went on a deep dive of the Harte’s Treasure legend. I stared at the stupid hand-drawn-on-a-napkin map for ages. I stared at our logging map. I went over the words Obadiah allegedly said before running off into the wilderness to almost certainly die.
Because I didn’t want to think about Levi. Because for a mutually-made, mutually-beneficial decision this one feels pretty shitty even if it’s the right thing, and I needed to focus my attention elsewhere.
“A dream?” he asks, one eyebrow raised.
“I have useful dreams,” I say, then point to the photo he’s still looking at, careful not to brush against him. “There’s two more dots.”
“Did he not remember where it was hidden?” Levi asked.
“No, he was an asshole who got off on the idea of people looking in all these spots for his treasure after he died,” I say. “I’d bet money there’s nothing in any of them, but that’s not the point.”
“The point is that someone thinks there is,” Levi finishes for me, still looking at the map.
My heart flutters and I wonder, for the tiniest of seconds, what he would do if I leaned across this table and kissed him right now, whether he’d kiss me back or pull away.
Then he looks up, right at me, like he can hear what I’m thinking. My mouth goes dry. I try to think of something, anything to say but I can’t.
There’s only one thought: I want to kiss him, and I can’t, and I want to.
“I guess we should formulate a plan,” he says, his voice suddenly low, quiet, gravel like the bottom of a river.
I let it flow over me, swallow, and try out a smile.
“I guess we should,” I say.“Excuse me,” the voice says from the doorway of the study room.
I gather my patience, then look up and force a smile onto my face.
“Yes, Marjorie?” I ask, polite as you please.
“We are closing in ten minutes,” she says, her half-moon glasses somehow hanging onto the very end of her nose. “That means the two of you need to clear out of here because I’ll need to check this room after you leave, obviously.”
Today marks the first time I’ve been inside the Historical Society in years and years, but some things don’t change: it still smells like brick and old paper, the floors squeak in all the same places, and Marjorie Thompson is a grade-A bitch.
“We’re leaving now,” I say, forcing a smile.
She glares, then leaves, and I roll my eyes so hard I might sprain them.
“Want me to steal something?” Levi asks, still looking down at our map.
“Not funny,” I tell him, pulling my laptop bag onto my lap.
“Not a joke,” he says, and looks up at me, his brown eyes deep, steady, as always. “Give me the word, June, and I’ll take anything you want, just to piss her off.”
“You wouldn’t,” I say.
“I would,” he says, then pauses. “I heard the way she just talked to you, June. Just tell me what I should steal, and it’s done.”
There’s a tiny smile playing around his lips, the slightest hint of a tease in his voice.
“What’s she most proud of in here?” he asks, looking around. “That bust? That map?”
“She probably knows who you are, plus she has your address and phone number,” I point out. “Can we please just leave before you ruin the historical society for us?”
Now Levi’s grinning, a grin with a sly, dangerous edge and I don’t hate it. I don’t hate it at all.
“Marjorie has an address and phone number,” he says, pushing his chair back and standing. “Not mine, though.”
“Now,” her voice says and Marjorie herself follows shortly after, turning sharply through the door. “If the two of you aren’t out in one more minute, I’ll have to revoke your privileges to—”
“Marjorie, we’re leaving,” I say, finally out of patience. “It takes a second to pack up our stuff and put things away, all right?”
“Mrs. Thompson,” she snaps, her arms folded over herself. “I prefer to be addressed respectfully, as I’m sure you’re well aware.”
I can practically feel the anger rolling off of Levi, and I quickly shoot him a please shut up and don’t steal anything look. He glowers back at me.
I pack up the map, slowly. I put the two photos of the napkin map back, extra-slowly. It takes a full three minutes before we’re ready to depart, and Marjorie is watching us the entire time.