Page 20 of Digging Up Love
Thor? No, ostentatious thunder and lightning didn’t hit the mark. His presence affected her like a breath of wind in the doldrums at sea. Though the air clung to her, close and still, Alisha’s lungs expanded in a full inhale, and she imagined a weather vane shifting.
“More like the day Mary Poppins flew in.” She grinned, head down.
“Ouch. A burn already?”
“Nah, I’m just saying all this is a whole lot of new.” The ladder hit the dirt below, and she stepped back in an attempt to pull herself out of Quentin’s orbit.
“I get it.” He locked eyes with her, and she swallowed. “I’m not big on new either. Explains my fixation on fossils, I guess. They’ve stuck around for a few hundred million years. Not going anywhere anytime soon.” He rubbed a hand up his arm, rumpling the fabric of his long-sleeved tee. “All I can say is, I really appreciate your family allowing us this opportunity. It means so much to be able to work on a project of this magnitude.”
“Okay, okay.” She waved him off. “Save it for the Oscars.”
His dimples appeared. “Sure thing.” He swung one boot onto the ladder, and she gripped the rails to steady it. “See, if I were Mary Poppins”—he descended another rung—“I could float down in a snap. What with my magical umbrella and all.”
She clucked her tongue, secretly loving his cheesiness. “You sure you teach college students and not third graders?”
Stepping down into the mud, he flashed a smile up at her, and her heart skitter-leaped.
“I’ve done a school visit or two in my time. Dinos are a big hit with the twelve-and-under crowd.”
“I can imagine.” She bit back the urge to admit her own dino obsession. There was a fine line between interested onlooker andJurassic Parkmegafan, and he didn’t need to know where she stood on that particular continuum. “Anyway, I’ll get out of your hair, unless you need a hand?”
“No, thank you. You’ve done more than enough.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Is that a reference to my first performance down there?”
He laughed. “It’s not, I promise. I may have overreacted.”
“I don’t blame you. I’d freak out if someone just stormed into my kitchen in the middle of a bake, and my desserts aren’t even irreplaceable relics.”
“Again, I feel like you have me confused with Dr.Jones.”
Alisha grinned. “What can I say? He made an impression on me as a kid.” In fact, between Indiana Jones and Alan Grant, she was belatedly realizing “hunky scientist” just might be her type. But cracking the lid on that can of worms could only lead to abject embarrassment.
“Well, if you do need a hand, I’ll be in the house. I kind of figured you’d show up with an assistant or something.”
Quentin unzipped the bag and pulled out a wrinkled tarp. “Yeah, if this all pans out, I’ll be coming back with a team. But everyone deserted me for Cabo.” He squinted up at her. “Spring break.”
“Ah, gotcha. No beaches for you?”
“Oh no, I love the beach. But resort vacations cater to couples, you know?” He paused, hinting at his lack of a girlfriend? Fishing for her relationship status? Why did the idea of a single Dr.Harris give her the sudden urge to revisit her vow of singlehood? Probably the same reason she was lingering here like a fan with a backstage pass.
When Alisha didn’t volunteer an answer, he shrugged. “Besides, I wanted to get a better idea of what we’re working with. This could be an even bigger deal if it turns out to be a new species.”
A new species? It started to sink in that this dig was going to blow her timetable to smithereens.
“Do you think it is?”
“No way to know at this stage. And I doubt it, but then again, I never in my life thought I’d be excavating dinosaur fossils in Illinois, yet here we are.” Trowel in hand, he rested one arm on his knee and smiled up at her, his features in soft focus from the fog.
Here they were indeed. “Well, if you need a break or a drink or anything, the back door will be open.”
“Thanks. I’ll stop in on my way out.”
“Cool.” Alisha rocked back on her heels. Oh, she was staring. And smiling. And officially earning herself creeper status. “See you in a bit, then.”
Alisha hit the upload button and stood, arching her back. Editing the video had wound up taking longer than expected because she’d fielded three phone calls from one of the part-timers about the new point-of-sale system and submitted an order to their produce vendor Grandpa had forgotten to send out.
The post wasn’t as cohesive as she’d like because all the interruptions had zapped her concentration, but better than skipping a day. Blogging and social media offered a baked-in clientele for when it came time to launch her cookie shop, and consistently sharing fresh content and unique flavor profiles had earned her a loyal following.
