Page 12 of Digging Up Love
“It’s just mud.”
“Says the man who digs in the dirt for a living.”
“Actually, the digs I usually excavate are in deserts. Dust and rocks, not mud. This dirt is very different from where fossils are normally found. In fact, these bones might not even be fossiliz—”
She sat back on her heels and cut him off with a look. Mud coated her chest like an apron. Only the white pom-pom on top of her hat remained unscathed. Other than that, she was drenched in muck like Augustus Gloop after his swim in the chocolate river. He pressed his lips together to keep in his laugh, but at her squinty glare, a deep chuckle rose up from his belly. He held an arm over his mouth.
“‘Just mud,’ huh?” A dimple appeared in her right cheek, though the rest of her face remained impassive under mud specks that dotted her cheeks like freckles.
“I’m sorry.” He gasped out the words, short on breath with the effort of holding in his laughter. He’d already done enough damage with his obstinate silence earlier. “But your braids ...” He sobered. “Are they ruined?” His cousins were always complaining about how long it took to get braids put in.
Alisha bit her lip and gingerly lifted a braid between two muddy fingers. “Gosh, I hope not. But I think I’ll be able to wash out the mud, as long as I’m patient.” Her lips twisted in a rueful expression, and he guessed patience wasn’t her strong suit.
“If you don’t mind me asking, what was your endgame, jumping in here?”
“Um, reconnaissance?” A laugh bubbled up out of her, and he couldn’t help but join in this time. She rubbed a finger under her nose,leaving a trail of mud snaking across her upper lip, and then cringed. “Whoops. Just gave myself a killer ’stache, didn’t I?”
Quentin rolled his lips together to contain a smile. “Do you want me to—”
She nodded before he could finish. He swiped his thumb along her soft skin, and a tremor went through his hand. His finger slipped and he brushed her lip. Her lush cupid’s bow sent a jolt through his fingertip straight to the base of his spine, propelling him to his feet.
“You’re good.” His words came out rough and scratchy, his cheeks hot. Shoving his sleeves up on his forearms, he offered her help to stand, but she just stared at his outstretched arms.
He tucked his chin, bending to catch her eyes. “I don’t mind the mud, remember?”
With a nod, she grabbed hold and pulled herself up. Dropping his hands, she clucked her tongue, maybe at all the dirt. To show he really didn’t mind, he wiped his palms down the front of his hoodie, leaving smears of mud. “Now we’re both a mess.”
Her white teeth flashed against her light-brown skin in a quick smile, and his stomach dipped.
Then she turned and scrabbled out of the hole. Or tried to. He watched her for a minute, not minding the view, before he spoke up. “At the risk of sounding like a broken record, do you need any help getting out?”
Head craned back, she said, “Turns out today pride actually did go before the fall. So yes, I could definitely use a hand out of this pit of humiliation.”
“Well, in that case ...” He stopped, because his first impulse, grabbing her butt and boosting her over? Yeah, that wasnothappening. Instead, he hauled himself out and knelt down on the edge of the sod. He grasped her arm just below the elbow and tugged gently. She dug her toes in and threw herself over the edge.
Tucking her knees under herself, she said, “You seem to always be helping me up.”
“I can’t help if you’re always falling down around me,” Quentin countered with a smile.
Alisha cocked her head. “Yeah, well, when I woke up this morning, I wasn’t prepared to go swimming with dinosaurs.”
“Swimming?”
“My grandparents want an in-ground pool. Hence the La Brea Tar Pit situation.”
“Ah, right.” Quentin’s mind chose that particular moment to alert him to the fact that he and Alisha were sitting intimately close, knees pressed together. He cleared his throat and pushed himself up off the snow-dusted grass. “So Eleanor Blake is your grandmother?”
“I guess you didn’t notice the family resemblance?” Her eyes twinkled.
“Not so much, but now that you mention it, it’s the hair.” He gave a half smile. “You’re just not what I expected when I drove out here today.”
Alisha stood up and shuffled toward the house. “That makes two of us.” They stopped outside the large screened-in porch. “When I heard there was a paleontologist headed to my grandparents’ house, you’re not exactly what I pictured.”
“Oh? What did you picture?”
“I dunno.” She looked at him from under thick lashes, then gestured with mud-coated fingers. “Older. Rounder. More khaki.”
He tipped his head back and laughed. “Indiana Jones with a dad bod?”
