Page 97 of Her Reluctant Hero
“What are you doing here?” Dr. Vigil eased her away to look at her.
“I—” She dropped her gaze from the dark brown eyes that always saw too much, that knew her too well. “I came to see Adrian.”
She heard the hitch of breath that could be hope or wariness. Dr. Vigil had loved both of them but their constant fighting and their split had been hard on him. Mallory felt guilty—and not a little jealous—that Adrian had kept in contact with him. She’d known the professor since she was a child. But once she split with Adrian, she hadn’t wanted any reminders of Adrian, of her digger’s past, of the career that destroyed dreams. Because of her need for distance, she’d lost the only family she had left.
“She brought the divorce papers,” Adrian said, still near the entrance of the tent. He pulled a cellophane bag of beef jerky out of the pocket where he used to carry his cigarettes. “She’s getting married again.”
She whipped her head up to meet Dr. Vigil’s gaze, knowing if she looked at Adrian, she’d burn a hole through him for beating her to the punch.
The professor’s stunned expression lasted only a second before a smile spread across his face, not quite reaching his eyes. “Congratulations, Mallory. I hope he’s worthy of you.”
She heard the censure in his voice and defensiveness rose. Did he want her to continue pining after Adrian, who couldn’t give her what she needed?
Dr. Vigil must have seen the pain in her face because he shifted subjects. “You look wonderful. Doesn’t she look wonderful, Adrian?”
Adrian shoved the jerky into his pocket. “She’s too skinny.”
She scowled, rising. “It’s the stress of planning a wedding. This time I want to do it right.”
Their own wedding had been an outdoor affair in Greece, and they’d dressed in their dig clothes. Their only concessions to convention were the rings and the flowers in her hair. At the time, the ceremony had seemed the height of romance. They’d been young and wild about each other, certain nothing or no one would ever come between them. She imagined most young couples felt that way, but she and Adrian—she’d been so sure. She glanced at his left hand. Of course he’d stopped wearing his ring.
She folded her left hand into a fist. Now she wore someone else’s.
“You might have considered planning it after you were divorced.” He’d stopped his laconic lounging and stood straight, tension in the lines of his body.
She stepped closer. “You might have signed the papers before you left civilization. You’ve had them for months.”
They were nose to nose in the small space, his scent washing over her, filling her with a memory of gliding hands and hot skin, while his flashing eyes filled her with another, aching recollection. So many fights, just like this one. This wasn’t what love was supposed to be. She drew back, relieved she and Jonathan never fought, never lashed out at each other. Never hurt each other.
Adrian glared a moment longer before he spun and left the tent.
“I’m sorry, Dr. Vigil,” Mallory murmured, embarrassed that he’d witnessed such a spectacle, that she hadn’t grown up where Adrian was concerned. In that moment, she’d forgotten the old man was there.
Dr. Vigil waved a hand, dismissing it as if it didn’t bother him. His eyes crinkled as he looked after Adrian. “It feels like old times.”
She glanced toward the opening. “Is he still chasing after the Theophilius boxes?”
Dr. Vigil’s gaze sharpened. “He hasn’t told you?”
She shook her head.
“He thinks he’s found one.”
