Page 38 of Digging Up Love
“See? Thank you,” Dev said. “Why did no one mention the thick granddaughter, though?”
Quentin halted his search, ears pricked. Heels sliding up under him of their own volition, he peered down into the dig.
“Maybe because Dr.Harris called dibs,” Caitlyn said, voice low.
What the heck?Quentin’s fingers squeezed the side of the pickup, barely registering the searing heat of the metal.
Bridget’s ball-capped head swiveled toward Cait, who had the grace to look shamefaced. “Just kidding.” But she continued speaking under her breath, and Quentin crept forward another few feet to catch her words. “Whatever, good for him. I hear half the department’s thrown themselves at him since his breakup, and it’s like hitting a brick wall.” She snickered. “He obviously needs to find someone to break him out of the rut he’s been in.”
“Dude!” Forrest’s head jerked up, and he drew his hand across his throat in a slicingCut it outmotion.
Giving up on finding the glue, Quentin grabbed the nearest tool bag and slung it into a bare quadrant of dirt. Dev and Caitlyn snapped their heads up, eyes darting toward one another. He jumped out of the bed of the truck and went down the ladder, skipping the last few rungs. Did they think he was deaf?
“Bit careless with university property, huh?” Dev nodded toward the bag, cocky grin back in place, though a bit wobbly at the edges.
“Most of the tools are older than you, Dev.” Quentin yanked out a pick. “I think they’ll survive, and if they don’t, it’ll be a mercy killing.” He knelt down next to Forrest and breathed deep to slow his heartbeat so he wouldn’t damage any fragile fossils.
The intersection of his love life and work was leaving him off kilter. And for what? A woman who may or may not have been into him? Why couldn’t he just be content with this excavation and forget about her?
Sitting back on his heels, Quentin thumbed a trail of sweat off his cheek. If he didn’t pay attention, he was going to miss something crucial. No sense in proving his father right with a slipup on the discovery of a lifetime. He wiped his palm on the rough fabric of his shorts, then took a firm grip on the pick. “Why don’t you run me through what you’ve found since this morning, Forrest?”
CHAPTER 14
ALISHA
Out of the corner of her eye, Alisha saw Meg’s face pressed to the attic window like a dog in the back seat of a car, panting.Sheesh.
“You do realize how attractive your professor is, don’t you?”
Opening her browser, she tried to tune out Meg and the nonstop newsreel of Quentin thoughts spinning through her head. He certainly wasn’t “hers,” and the sooner she made peace with that, the better.
She bit down on her fingernail and scrolled through the latest set of retail bakery listings. Several of the spaces showed promise, and she clicked through the details. Muffled words reached her ears. She hazarded a glance and found Meg still fogging up the glass octagon, forehead pressed to the windowpane.
“He’s got all the bases covered. Sexy nerd. Check. Rough and dirty. Check, check.” Meg sunk down onto the cushioned window seat. She lifted her hair off her shoulders and fanned herself. “And those boots. Hoo boy! What girl doesn’t love a man in muddy work boots?”
Then she tipped her head between her knees and gathered all her hair into a ponytail. Alisha rubbed a hand on her own damp neck under the weighty warmth of her twists. Thanks to Grandpa’s well-meaningthriftiness, the temperature in her attic bedroom had to be pushing eighty degrees.
Meg spoke around the elastic band clenched between her teeth. “All he’s missing is Clark Kent glasses.”
Alisha grunted, then turned back to the screen, clicking several photos to open them in new tabs. She wouldn’t take the bait. But Meg had known her forever.
Like a shark sensing blood in the water, she yanked the ponytail holder out of her mouth and wound it around her hair. “What’s that? Hmm? You’re telling me the man wears glasses?” Her voice squeaked at the last syllable.
“Yes, okay? He has glasses.” Alisha threw her arms up in defeat. “I saw him wearing them the other day.” She got up from the desk and flopped down onto her embroidered quilt, goose bumps flooding her arms at the memory of him sitting on the pickup’s tailgate in the morning sunlight. The big round frames combined with his grown-out curls gave his face a new dimension of intellectual hotness.
Meg collapsed backward against the wall, likewise stricken at her own mental picture, no doubt. Arms lifeless at her sides, she stared Alisha down.
“Your dino doctor checks all of my marriage boxes.” She lifted fingers one at a time, starting with her thumb. “Steady job, polite, intelligent—‘Hel-lo, Professor’—and he’s a ten.”
In response to her stoic gaze, Meg threw herself forward and strode over like a panther. She grabbed Alisha’s knee, rocking it back and forth.
“Alit-er-alten.” She let go and looked down her thin nose at Alisha. “Stop lying to yourself, woman. I know you think he’s the perfect package.” The perfect, way-too-good-for-her,Just kidding, we delivered it to the wrong house and can you please drop it off at your nearest post office?package.
“If I admit I think he’s cute, will you promise to never use the word ‘package’ again?”
Crossing her arms, Meg shook her head. “Absolutely not.”
“Absolutely not as in you’ll never say ‘package’ again?”
