Page 55 of Digging Up Love
A Sox batter struck out, and he clicked his tongue. “You guys got anything to drink?” Forrest nodded toward the mini fridge, and Quentin pulled out a Gatorade. He unscrewed it and took a big gulp to chase away the lump in his throat. “I came by to tell you guys Alisha’s friend Meg invited us all to a bonfire tonight.”
Both men perked up.
“Meg? The tall chick who brought us food the other day?” This from Forrest, who swiped a tendril of hair out of his eyes.
Quentin nodded and took another drink.
“Will Alisha be there too?” Dev asked, eyes on his cards.
“Since that’s who told me about it, I’m assuming yes,” said Quentin, voice level.
The guys shared a look.
“What?”
Forrest’s eyebrows went up, but he kept his eyes on the table, discarding. “Nothing.”
Dev remained silent for once.
“Anyway, it’s gonna be another long week. We can blow off some steam tonight.”
Forrest blushed beet red, and Dev coughed. Junior high all over again. Quentin took another swig of his Gatorade, then wiped off his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’m going to go ask the ladies if they’re interested. How about I order some pizza, and we’ll head over after dinner?”
Teeth flashing in a grin, Dev gave him a salute, then yelped and grabbed his shin, glaring at Forrest. Quentin shut the door on the snickers behind him. He sighed. Tonight should be an absolute blast.
CHAPTER 19
ALISHA
The bonfire crackled, sending sparks drifting into the twilight sky. Alisha sat on a log, turning a quickly warming hard cider in her hands and trying to look somewhere—anywhere!—other than at Quentin. He sat engrossed in conversation with Meg on the other side of the blaze, the sharp angles of his face lit up by flickering light. So achingly handsome her misguided heart turned into a molten puddle.
Meg caught her eye and raised her brows, tilting her head toward Quentin. Universal wingman code forI’m telling him how awesome you are, but like in a totally subtle way.Alisha pursed her lips and gave a small shake of her head. Misguided matchmaking schemes were probably half the reason Meg had thrown this awkward party anyway. They couldn’t even invite friends for fear of people finding out the true reason for the dig.
The paleontologists’ presence—okay, Quentin’s presence—made everything complicated. Alisha tucked the bottle between her legs and untied her hoodie from her waist, then slipped her arms into the sleeves and zipped it to her neck. The night was warm, but she could use the extra armor as a shield against his invisible pull, a barrier betweenherself and the ring of truth in his words when he’d called her out in the kitchen earlier.
He’d probably known he wanted to be a paleontologist since age three, and every single one of his decisions had fallen into place like dominoes, landing him on an upward trajectory at a renowned university. And he obviously had no problem voicing his desires to his family. Sure, they weren’t impressed, but he’d done it anyway, and then oh so clearly judged her for not doing the same.
But her situation wasn’t so simple. His dad had another son to work the family business. Alisha filled that role, stepping up at Honey and Hickory so her sister could be free to pursue her own dreams. Not only that, he didn’t have to shoulder the weight of guilt that came from single-handedly wrecking her grandparents’ chance at having carefree golden years.
Quentin’s laugh floated over the flames and pierced Alisha’s chest, spreading a slow drip of fiery lava through her veins, down her arms, into her fingertips. Despite how he’d questioned her judgment, she still responded to him like a sugar rush. Yes, he’d climbed on his high horse over her choice to keep quiet, but until today, he’d been kind and funny and supportive.
Unfortunately.
Forrest plopped down next to her and swiped a lock of tangled hair back over his head. “Nice of your friend to invite us over.”
“Meg loves a party.” Alisha began peeling the label off her drink. “And we figured you guys needed a break.”
He stretched feet clad in canvas slip-ons and striped crew socks toward the fire, rocking the log. “Thisisour break. Fieldwork. Best part of the job, if you ask me.”
“Ditto.” A rustle and clink of metal sounded over her shoulder, and Alisha turned to find Caitlyn dragging a camp chair across the grass. “Fieldwork is my happy place.” She sank down onto the chair, setting a bag of marshmallows on her lap.
Forrest lunged for the bag, but Cait lifted it over her head.
“Not until I’ve had some, mister. If we let him have this bag, there’ll be none left,” she said.
“I’ve got plenty more. Be back in a sec.” Meg stood up and walked off toward the house, trailed by her golden retriever.
Cait nudged Forrest’s sneaker with the toe of her Teva sandal. “Why don’t you make yourself useful, too, and go find some sticks?”
