Page 17 of Digging Up Love
QUENTIN
Miles of blank highway stretched in front of Quentin, dotted with only the occasional pickup or eighteen-wheeler. Now that he’d crossed over the Illinois River, he had about an hour’s worth of driving before traffic picked up around Springfield.
He switched on the radio, searching the static for a song while his thoughts ping-ponged between the dig and Alisha Blake.
Dinosaur bones, right here in Illinois! Incredible. This dig would go down in history books. Well, maybe not history books, but definitely scholarly journals. A Wikipedia article for him to religiously fact-check. Imagine the papers he could author. Maybe there’d even be a documentary.Take that, Dad.
He tapped a staccato rhythm on the steering wheel. His grad students were going to lose their minds over this find. Excavating here would be very different from their usual digs in the deserts out west. How would working with packed clay compare to chipping bones out of rock? Limitless questions unfolded in his mind like trails on a map, and he couldn’t wait to follow where they led.
But as for the beautiful woman who lived at the dig site? Their conversation had lit a spark in him, the first one since Mercedes. A spark heabsolutely needed to smother before it burst into flames. In a close-knit workplace, rumors spread like unchecked wildfire, and he didn’t need his handling of the find called into question.
Paleontology had always been a safe haven. He couldn’t afford to blur the lines between work and his personal life, not with so much at stake. Losing the chance to excavate the find of a lifetime? Unthinkable. He took a swig of sugary gas station cappuccino to chase down the acid burning his throat.
A semi cut him off, and Quentin squeezed the cup so hard the lid popped off. Sticky liquid sloshed onto his thighs. With a growl, he dropped it into the cup holder and laid on his horn. Reaching blindly, he snatched up a fleece jacket from the passenger seat.REGGIEwas embroidered in red letters on the front. He used it to mop the coffee off the center console with a smirk.
Quentin’s ringtone eclipsed the speakers. Caught out, he flinched and hurled the jacket onto the passenger floor mat. But a quick glance toward the caller ID had him relaxing back against the headrest. He clicked on the Bluetooth. “Hey, Hector.”
“Wow, you answered your phone for once. I planned on leaving a voice mail.”
“That’s what texting’s for.”
A piercing shriek came across the other end, and Hector yelled, “Careful!”
Quentin chuckled. Which twin was wreaking havoc this time?
“Say again, Q?”
“You heard me.” Quentin flicked on his blinker, passing yet another semi. “No one under eighty leaves voice mails anymore.”
Hector snorted. “You sound like Ma.”
“What does that say about you, brother? Our baby boomer mom has embraced technology more than you have.”
“Anyway,” Hector said, dragging out the syllables, “I called cuz Vanessa’s been on me to invite you to the twins’ birthday party. It’s Saturday.”
Leave it to his brother to tell him the week of. Lucky he had a wide-open social calendar these days. Lack of a love life would do that for a guy.
“Of course I’ll be there.” But presents would be involved, yes? He scratched at his jaw. Seeing his nieces every Sunday since their birth didn’t mean he could keep up with their interests. Last year, he’d been the stooge who’d showed up at the party with a pair of Little Tykes hoops, basketballs, and a bin of sidewalk chalk to draw a court on the driveway, only to find out the girls had traded in their Jordans for soccer cleats. “What are they into these days?”
“You mean besides destroying everything?”
Quentin laughed.
“I’m not kidding!” Hector’s voice climbed a few octaves. “The other day I caught them pumping hand soap into my shoes. Every single pair I own, Q. Said they were stinky. Although, they weren’t wrong.” He chuckled. “Man, whoever said girls aren’t a force to be reckoned with obviously never raised one. They’re a constant blur.”
Another crash, and Hector shouted, “I’ll be off in a sec!” To Quentin he said, “What do my babies like these days besides making mayhem? Hang on.”
There was a rustling sound, then Hector’s voice came again, muffled now.
Was he hiding out in the closet?
“Let’s see ...Frozen.Frozen II, actually. Apparently there’s a difference. The princesses get pants or something. I dunno. But if you buy them something that makes noise again, I swear to God I’ll find Lily a new godfather.”
The loud toys were payback for years of gut punches and brotherly warfare. He had no plans to stop using his biggest advantage.
Hector spoke away from the phone, and Quentin heard an answering giggle. “Yep, you sure did, you found Daddy.” He grunted, and Quentin pictured him making room for one of the twins. “Lauryn, say hi to your least favorite uncle.”
“Hi, Uncle Q.”
