Page 13 of Digging Up Love
She chuckled and shrugged.
“Sorry to disappoint,” he said.
“Oh no, I’ll take the lack of khaki ...” She trailed off, gaze dropping down his body. Then her eyes shot away, and she fiddled with the zipper of her coat.
Heat pricked his cheeks. Suddenly he didn’t know what to do with his hands, or his face.
“To be fair, Indiana Jones wasn’t a paleontologist; he was an archaeologist.” Oh gosh, flashing his awkward-teacher badge. Once a nerd, always a nerd.
But she met his eyes again with a smirk, still working at the zipper. “Are we certain that’s what Indiana Jones was? Seems like ‘Tomb Raider’ would be more apt.”
Quentin laughed. “True. I doubt any scientific discipline wants to claim him. At least not nowadays.” He shifted on the yellowed grass, nearly turning his ankle. “Speaking of claiming ...”
Alisha had gotten the zipper down and was trying to worm her way out of her jacket, without much success. He raised an eyebrow at her, and she nodded. He went around behind her and pulled at the leather collar while she shimmied. The sweet, cheerful scent of citrus wafted up from her nape, scrumptious as orange sherbet, and Quentin swallowed.
“The thing is, any dinosaur bones found on private land belong to the property owner. There’s no onus to turn the fossils over to science.” He spoke into the frosty air above her head, the pom-pom tickling his chin. “Your grandparents could sell them for a profit.” The words stuck in Quentin’s throat like silt in a sieve, but it needed to be said.
He finally peeled the coat all the way off Alisha’s shoulders and gulped. Underneath, she wore a plain white tee, nothing racy, but something about helping a woman undress felt, well, like helping a woman undress.
Cheeks aflame, he ducked his head and came around in front of her again, holding the coat at arm’s length. No sense making it look like the two of them had been mud wrestling when he went in to talk to hergrandmother. Although ...
He looked down at the muddy streaks on his hoodie, and his cheeks burned hotter.
If she noticed his embarrassment, she gave no sign. “So lemme get this straight. Mr.Snyder actuallydiddig up dinosaur bones in our backyard, and now you’re asking me if, in light of that fact, my grandparents would rather go on eBay and auction them off than donate them to you guys?”
“More or less.” Just because her grandma called in the find didn’t mean she wouldn’t change her mind when she found out what lay beneath the winter-brown grass in their backyard.
Alisha sat on the concrete steps and hunched over to undo the mud-encrusted laces on her boots. “I can promise you my grandparents have no plans to get into the fossil trade. They’re in their seventies, and that sounds like a giant hassle. I’m guessing they just want to be rid of the bones, since right now the swimming pool looks like a prehistoric crime scene.” She tugged off one boot, then the other, stripping off her socks to reveal toes painted a glossy orange. Another detail about her he most definitelydid notnotice.
“Whether or not they want you and your cronies trampling all over the yard is another story,” Alisha said. “If I were you, I’d turn on the charm in there when you plead your case. Oh, and leave those out here, or you’re dead in the water.” She pointed to his mud-caked boots.
He squatted down to untie his laces while she opened the screen door and waddled, legs wide, dodging white wicker furniture, to the back door. She turned the knob and pushed a shoulder against the glass pane. “Granny?”
“In the kitchen, sweetie!”
The scent of fresh coffee and cinnamon drifted out the doorway, inviting. Legs splayed, Alisha rotated toward him. “Kitchen’s down the hall to the right. I’d say good luck, but I heard you cackling just now, Dr.Harris.” One corner of her mouth lifted, belying her stern tone and sparking her eyes again.
Backlit by warm light spilling out of the house, with muddy braids and dirt-splattered jeans, she was beauty incarnate. A warrior princess.The laugh dried in his throat, replaced with a deep and pleasant ache below his breastbone.
Then she resumed her bowlegged march toward the stairs, and his laughter returned.
“Heard that!”
Quentin stepped out of his boots and shook his head.Unbelievable.Against all odds, Lawrence had been right.Lucky day, indeed.This dig could provide endless research opportunities, not to mention the kind of renown that would make his father sit up and take notice. Here’s hoping his luck held out and the Blakes signed off on the excavation.
CHAPTER 6
ALISHA
“You’re telling me you had a real-life Owen Grady in your backyard today?”
Alisha brought her hand up to shield the side of her face, darting a glance toward the crowded bar. “Shh, keep your voice down!”
She’d met up with her friend Meg to play darts and debrief about the dino situation at the Back Forty, the only place in town able to boast anything remotely resembling a nightlife, thanks to a liquor license and spotty satellite service broadcasting sports on four wide-screens. Shellacked, knot-ridden wood paneling lined the walls, and classic rock wailed from a jukebox to give the outdated decor a run for its money. Like most of Hawksburg, the bar’s ambiance chafed like a piece of gravel stuck in her shoe.
“And no. I’m pretty sure there’s no such thing as a real-lifeVelociraptortrainer.” She shook her head at Meg, who looked runway-model gorgeous as always, despite coming straight off a long week teaching social studies at the local high school. Meg’s wavy dark-brown hair fell across her shoulders to brush the top of the table, her creamy skin flawless even without the aid of concealer.
“Well, if you ever meet one, step aside. I’d be all over that.” Meg spoke around a mouthful of mozzarella stick.
