Page 52 of Digging Up Love
Tension broken, she swatted him gently on the arm and moved on.
“So if you’re not an animal lover, why did you bring me here? Not that I’m complaining,” he added. She was as skittish as the horses, and he didn’t want to spook her into calling it quits.
She shrugged. “Because this is the only exciting thing to do today in the whole county, and it beats sitting on the hood of my car at a gas station?”
“I don’t need exciting when I’m with you,” he said, and the truth of his words hit him like a revelation.
Bumping their joined hands against his leg in an aw-shucks move, she squeezed his hand a little tighter, and his heart squeezed right along with it.
Nose pinched, she tried to steer them around the poultry barn, but he insisted on the full experience. There had to be at least twentydifferent breeds on display. He restrained himself from delivering a lecture about modern-day dinosaurs—just barely.
Exploring livestock barns at a run-down fairground? Hands down the weirdest date he’d ever been on. But here he was, grinning from ear to ear. Around Alisha, everything else faded away. So much so that he didn’t see the crew until Alisha had pulled to a halt, dropping his hand like a red-hot poker.
Forrest, Bridget, Dev, and Caitlyn stood in the shadow of a barn. Eyes hidden behind mirrored plastic sunglasses, Dev was probably nursing a hangover from the alcohol-fueled euchre game Quentin had heard through the thin motel walls last night. Forrest’s cheeks hollowed out as he sucked lemonade through a twisty straw.
“Hey, y’all!” Bridget looked back and forth between him and Alisha with a hint of a smile. “Didn’t expect to see you here, Quentin. The guys said you’d gone for a run. I texted to see if you wanted to meet up with us, but when we didn’t hear from you, we figured you were holed up in your room deciphering this week’s notes.”
He pulled out his phone. Sure enough, there were several new texts in the group thread. His phone had stayed in his pocket, forgotten ever since Alisha had shown up at the gas station. “Oh yeah, I was. Running, that is. And got some coffee.” He stopped. Rambling only made him look guilty.
Caitlyn nabbed the cup from Forrest and slurped up the last of the liquid with a rattle.
White-knuckling her purse strap, Alisha backed up. “You know what? I’ll leave you guys to it.”
The carnival rides clanked into motion with a whirl of creepy accordion music and a burst of clanging bells.
“No, you stay.” Cait tugged on Forrest’s sleeve. “We’ll go. I saw a sign for deep-fried butter, and this one bet me ten bucks it was a myth. And I plan to drag Dr.Reid onto the Ferris wheel.”
Bridget groaned, but a good-natured smile lit up her face. “One ride. That’s it. And then you owe me a deep-fried Oreo.”
“Wait, that’s a thing?” Forrest’s eyes widened like he’d caught a glimpse of heaven.
“You’d better believe it. Have fun, you two.” With a parting wave, Bridget motioned to Dev, who jerked to alertness and ambled after the others.
They stood in silence, Alisha twisting the strap of her purse like a boa constrictor asphyxiating its prey. The same strangulation seized his own gut. First Dev and Forrest had seen them at the Back Forty, and now the entire crew had caught him hand in hand with Alisha. Not as if they’d been spotted making out, but his personal life and work had never collided. If Bridget thought he wasn’t pulling his weight or the grad students lost respect for him ...
Alisha looked up at him, uncertainty painting her features, the same uncertainty scratching at his insides. The safe option would be to call it quits before things got messy.
Instead, he stepped closer, reassured by the flicker of relief that passed over her features. She wanted this, too, and that gave him the courage to push aside his fears, now that the immediate threat of discovery was gone. He would be more careful in the future, but as for today ...
He held out his crooked elbow like a gallant gentleman and was rewarded by the sound of her laughter. “Lead on, Alisha. I hear the pigs are a can’t-miss.”
CHAPTER 18
QUENTIN
While the rest of the crew headed out for lunch on Friday, Quentin eased open the back door and padded down the hall, on alert for the clicking of Mrs.Blake’s knitting needles, or the oldies station Mr.Blake usually cranked up while he worked in his study. But ... nothing.
Ever since last weekend, he and Alisha had fallen into a new dynamic. On Tuesday morning she’d texted to ask if he could sneak over early and then met him on the front porch swing with a frozen caramel latte and a homemade blueberry streusel muffin. And two evenings in a row, he’d lingered after everyone else had left for the day, and he and Alisha had sat talking on the tailgate of his pickup until dusk. Today he’d packed a sandwich as an excuse not to join the crew in town for lunch.
He hesitated near the bathroom door, but he passed it up and came to a halt outside the cutaway to the kitchen. Alisha sat on a stool at the island, her braids held back by a purple bandana, wearing a ruffled apron and nothing else. His heart skipped a beat. Then she shifted, and the strap of her tank top slid out from under the apron. He heaved out a breath.She lives with her grandparents—c’mon now.
Her voluptuous lips were parted in concentration as she decorated rows of cookies. Quentin stood rapt, mesmerized by the hypnotic motion and the beauty of her calm competence. She picked up bag after pastel-hued bag of color, adding icing with steady, precise movements. Using a thin brush, she painted detail onto several of the cookies, leaning back now and again to scrutinize her work.
With a satisfied huff, she set down the paintbrush and used the inside of her wrist to push the bandana higher up on her head. She raised her eyes for the first time and let out a squeak, hand flying to her heart. “Lordy! How long have you been standing there?”
“Long enough to know I should recruit you to piece together some bone fragments.”
Oof.Thank goodness Hector wasn’t around. He needed some new pickup lines. Badly. “That is ... your dexterity. It’s impressive.” He stepped into the kitchen, the wood floor cool under his stockinged feet. “May I?”
