Page 14 of Digging Up Love
Alisha raised her brows at her friend. “Is that”—she gestured to the string of cheese dangling from her friend’s chin—“part of your seduction technique? Because if so, I think I’m safe.” She grinned, then closed one eye and cast a dart. It hit the wall a good four feet away from the target.
“Anyways, he’s less Chris Pratt and more of a ...” She paused, bottle halfway to her lips, inadvertently reliving the moment Quentin had leaned down to help her up and she’d gotten a front-row view of his lean, corded forearms ...
Was it hot in here?It was definitely hot in here. She knocked back a swig of hard cider, the crisp taste not cooling her desire one bit.
Meg pushed the cardboard tray of mozzarella sticks aside and leaned on the wobbly high-top table to peer into her eyes. “Okay, missy. This is as close to flustered as I’ve ever seen you. What aren’t you telling me? He’s less of a Chris Pratt and more of awho?”
Alisha slid off the barstool and went to fetch her misaimed dart, hoping she wouldn’t get a staph infection from the gritty carpet. She didn’t feel like dishing about the whole mud-drenched, embarrassing encounter. Not until she’d had time to digest it herself. As for Quentin’s out-of-this-world looks ...
“He’s ... cute,” she hedged, and then scooted her hips back up onto the stool.
“Uh-uh. Nope. You can either give me more than that, or I can just google him.” Meg’s Disney princess–size green eyes lit up at her own suggestion, and she pawed through her purse.
Steeling herself for the inevitable outburst, Alisha took another bite of freezer-burned mozzarella stick to fortify herself. But the impending interrogation made the cheese congeal in her throat and plop into her stomach with a heavy thud.
“What did you say his name was?” Meg’s eager face glowed in the light emitting from the screen. “Oh. Ne-ver-mind.” Her words may as well have been a catcall.
Of course she’d already found him. After years of online-dating disasters, Meg could teach a course in cyberstalking. She slammed her phone faceup onto the table, and Alisha almost choked on her mouthful of cider.
Dr.Quentin Harris, PhD, stared back at her from the homepage of the Earth Sciences Department at Chicago Northern University. Man, but he was fine. No one had any right to look that flawless in a faculty photo.
A white button-down set off his deep-brown skin, his prominent Adam’s apple on display above an open collar. His lips looked soft—kissable was her first thought, before she stamped it out like a spark in a dry forest—and those stormy seafoam-gray eyes she’d never forget crinkled at the edges from a wide smile. His curls were cropped close to his head in a fade that accentuated his angular cheekbones and strong jawline. Alisha gulped before drool hit the screen.
“You mean to tell me this Steph Curry look-alike is the dino guy?” Her friend’s voice came out as a squeak, and for once Alisha didn’t have to worry about the whole town hearing.Thank heavens for small mercies.
“Steph Curry’s not quite accurate ...” She trailed off, eyes glued to the phone.
“All I can say is: Why didn’t you lead off with ‘The paleontologist I met today is a certified hottie’?” Meg’s voice ricocheted back up to its typical decibel level again, and Alisha snapped from her Quentin-induced trance. Finger to her lips, she shushed a warning and flipped the phone over.
Just then her own cell lit up with a text from an unknown number. She snatched it before Meg could.
Unknown:
Hi Alisha, this is Indiana Jones.
She giggled, and Meg’s eyes slit into suspicion. Alisha pasted on a bland face as another text popped up.
Unknown:
Your grandmother gave me your number. Said I should have it to contact you in case they weren’t home.
Subtle, Granny.
Also, did her grandma think she was that desperate? Her current relationship status didn’t mean she was incapable of scoring dates on her own.
Unknown:
Any chance you’ve seen a digital camera at your house? I can’t find the one I brought today.
She frowned at the screen, thumbnail working its way between her teeth, unable to recall seeing a camera anywhere other than pressed against Quentin’s mouthwatering face.Not helpful.
Alisha:
Any idea where you left it?
Unknown:
Maybe in the kitchen?
