Page 24 of Digging Up Love
“Hello?” Heart beating triple time, Alisha slid the pot of potatoes to the back burner. Water sloshed onto the flame with a hiss. She clicked off the gas and tiptoed down the hall, double-timing when she passed the french doors of the den, the blue light of the evening news reflecting off the glass.
“Hey, Alisha. Is this a good time?”
Her chin nearly hit her collarbones in an overzealous nod.He can’t see you, loser.“Yeah.” She twisted the knob and slipped outside, then latched the door behind her. Goose bumps ran up her exposed arms, but too late to go back in for a coat. “Yeah, now’s a great time. What’s up?” Gosh, she sounded winded.
In the fading glow of sunset, she stealth-jogged around to the side yard and stopped on the far side of the maple tree. She peeked around the thick trunk toward the house, checking for the telltale stir of curtains. No denying the perks to grandparent roomies, like a freezer perpetually stocked with ice cream and companions to bingeDownton Abbeywith. But privacy? Ha.
“Hey, actually, can you give me a sec?” Not waiting for an answer, she tossed the phone up into the crook of the tree, then wrapped both hands around the lowest branch and swung a leg up—a move she’d perfected on childhood trips to Hawksburg, when she’d hide in the sheltering branches to escape Simone, who used to toddle everywhere after her like a menace, Momma shouting to let her big sister be.
After hoisting herself up, she settled into the hollow. Almost-thirty-year-old knees objected to the pretzel pose, and she groaned, shifting her butt on the damp, chilly bark.
“Sorry, I’m back,” she said, even more breathless than before, if that was possible.
“No problem. How are you?”
“Good.” She slid her phone down to her chin and took a deep breath to calm her erratic pulse. “What’s up?”
“I called to let you know we’re a go for the dig on our end.”
Her heart leaped, but her mind jumped in and clipped the wings of exhilaration before it took flight. So what if Quentin would be spending a few months in her backyard? Nothing would happen. Nothingcouldhappen.
“I also wanted to tell you we need to keep a low profile,” Quentin said, all business. A total switch from their last conversation, whenhe’d gushed over her bakery plans. “Otherwise we could contend with looting, among other things. It’s best if no one knows about the fossils until we’re finished excavating. Do you think that’s possible?”
Possible? Heck, if she had her way, no one besides the crew would ever find out. This dig could turn her grandparents’ life upside down. Bring the paparazzi down on Hawksburg likeNotting Hill, post–Anna Scott revelation. So far the only other people who knew about the dinosaur bones were the Snyders and Meg, who would keep the secret to her grave. And Mr.Snyder hadn’t strung more than two words together in all the years she’d known him.
But Mrs.Snyder? If loose lips sunk ships, Alisha wouldn’t even trust that woman on a rowboat in a kiddie pool. Still, Granny had all but extracted a blood oath from Mrs.S that she’d keep the dino bones a secret, though her friend had called dibs on breaking the news at bunco when it was all over.
“We’ll do our part,” she told Quentin. “I never imagined getting a front-row seat to something like this. Not that I’ll be in your way or anything,” she hastened to add.
Quentin chuckled. “I’m not worried about that. I love it when people take an interest. We’ll start in May, after spring semester ends. And if your grandparents are okay with it, stay through July.”
“Oh, they’re fine with it.” Alisha shot the words out, wincing at her eagerness. “As long as you guys don’t mess up the place.” A flash of Quentin’s muddy forearms in the kitchen last week sprung to mind, and she squeezed her eyes shut.
“That’s kind of the definition of a dig.” He laughed. “But I know what you mean. We’ll be on our best behavior. I’ll make sure of it.”
Alisha tipped forward and pulled her braids over her shoulder before settling back against the tree trunk. “You won’t have to worry about my grandma. She talks a good game, but she’s a softie.” Not entirely true, but since he’d never have to undergo the ordeal of an Ellie Blake cross-examination, a white lie wouldn’t hurt.
“Noted. And your grandpa?”
She kicked restless legs out, putting her soles up against an opposite branch. “Grandpa’s definitely not a pushover. But he’s fair. He really won’t mind you guys working, and both he and my grandma will be over the moon for more people to feed.” Alisha paused, realizing this sounded weird out of context. “Grandpa is the restaurateur in the family, but Granny is a true midwesterner. Feeding people is her religion.”
“Sounds like my mom.” Quentin chuckled. “She cooks enough every Sunday to feed the whole block and then some. Not that anyone ever turns down her enchiladas.”
“I think I’d like your mom.” Good food was the gateway to her heart. But the thought of meeting his mom left her tongue-tied. “Speaking of food, I’d better get back to cooking dinner.”
“Of course.” His tone shifted, a return to formality. “Sorry to keep you.”
Phone pressed to her cheek, she breathed out in tune with his exhale. “No worries, it was good to chat.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Really good.
“See you soon, Alisha.” The deep vibrations of his words struck a chord inside her, and she sucked in her bottom lip. His voice was velvet, and close, so close, like he was sitting next to her in the enveloping privacy of the branches.
“See you soon, Quentin.”
Hours later, Alisha lay on the couch, blinking away yawns and replying to comments on her latest Instagram post. She couldn’t afford to slack off now, even with her timeline up in the air. Her growing onlinepresence would help boost sales while she earned a name for herself in the Chicago foodie scene.
