Page 10 of Troy Story
“No. I mean, you could buy one if you wanted. I’m sure the Troy Museum has a gift shop. But Stuart got it for me yesterday. He knows I love cheesy shit like this.”
Clarissa raised her eyebrows. “Are you and he…?”
Here was Dusty’s chance. If she were smart, she’d stake her claim before Clarissa got any ideas about pursuing him. But she couldn’t bring herself to lie. “We’re just friends. His dad worked with my parents on a huge excavation project in Egypt for ten years off and on. Because of that, Stuart and I spent a lot of time together when we were kids. But there’s nothing else between us.”
“Okay. Good to know.”
Clarissa’s smile darkened Dusty’s mood even further.
Great, I practically told her to go for it.
“I know it’s not that late, but would you mind if I got ready for bed?” Clarissa asked. “I thought I was doing okay, but today’s travels just caught up with me.”
“Sure, no problem.” Dusty was tired, too, but if she went to sleep now, she’d wake at four in the morning. Better to push herself until ten, in the hopes of getting a decent night’s sleep.
After leaving the room, she checked out the rest of the field house. The wing they were in reminded her of a college dorm, with four shared bedrooms, two single rooms, and a set of men’s and women’s communal bathrooms. The bathrooms looked recently cleaned, though they wouldn’t stay that way with a bunch of grubby archaeologists using them every day.
The back side of the house was research-oriented, containing a lab for processing their finds and a field library. One wall of the library displayed photographs of Troy over the years, spanning from nineteenth-century photos in black and white all the way to the present.
Dusty made her way to the front of the building, which housed the communal living space—a comfy seating area with worn plaid couches and mismatched armchairs, a set of long wooden tables for dining indoors, and a spacious kitchen with wood-paneled cupboards, avocado-green appliances, and laminate countertops. Like Stuart said, the decor was firmly stuck in the 1970s.
Tacked next to the fridge was a tally sheet for keeping track of beverages. She grabbed a beer from the fridge and added her name to the sheet. Wanting to take advantage of the cool night air, she ambled outside but stopped short at the sight of Stuart. He sat by himself on the patio located on the far side of the building. Like her, he had a beer in hand, but he was staring into space, as though lost in thought.
Had he come out here in search of solitude? Too bad. Now that she’d caught him alone, she needed to talk to him.
She planted her butt in one of the hard plastic patio chairs and held up her bottle in a salute. “Greetings.”
He frowned at her. “What’s going on? You were sulking all through dinner.”
Sulking? Really? Maybe she hadn’t been on her best behavior, but she doubted Mort and Clarissa had noticed. They’d pretty much dismissed her once she told them her mom wasn’t about to jet over to Turkey and join the dig. Still, she didn’t want to make Stuart feel bad.
“Sorry,” she mumbled.
“Not good enough. You were glad to see me when I picked you up, but you barely said a word tonight. Then, when Mort asked you about your mom, you were totally condescending. I know you were hoping for a quiet dinner, but we’ll have other chances.”
No, we won’t. Literally everyone else is showing up tomorrow.
“It’s not that. I was just tired.”
“Seriously? Your flight from Cairo to Istanbul was only a few hours. It’s something else, isn’t it?”
“I also rode a bus for five and a half hours, which isn’t my idea of fun.” When Stuart’s expression didn’t soften, her shoulders sagged in resignation. “I was caught off guard by Mort and Clarissa. But it’s more than that. Clarissa looks just likeher.”
Stuart chuffed out an angry breath. “You think I didn’t notice? Before they flew out here, I had to check in with Mort on Zoom. When Clarissa’s face showed up on the screen, I could barely speak. I couldn’t believe how much she resembled Shelby. After we were done, I checked to make sure she wasn’t related.”
“Is she?”
“Nope. Just another gorgeous blond with long legs and a killer tan.”
Gorgeous. That meant he was halfway in already. Dusty swallowed painfully, washing down the ache with a swig of beer. “You remember what happened the last time we had a gorgeous blond on one of our digs?”
It was a low blow. But she’d never forgotten how Shelby had treated him. He’d only been dating her for six months when he left for a summer dig in Greece. Though he’d warned her that an archaeological dig wasn’t a true vacation, she’d insisted on coming for two weeks. And she’d been pissed as hell when she realized their remote hilltop location was nothing like theMamma Mia-inspired fantasy she’d conjured up in her head. After she left, Stuart had been a mopey son of a bitch for weeks.
Shelby had done a lot of shitty things to Stuart, but this was the one thing Dusty couldn’t forgive because she’d made him feel miserable in a place he loved.
“You don’t have to remind me,” he said. “That summer was a disaster, but this isn’t the same. Unlike Shelby, Clarissa loves archaeology. You heard her at dinner—she’s a huge ancient history nerd. She’ll fit in fine.”
The thing was, she probablywouldfit in fine. She’d love it and bond with Stuart, and he’d have a new Shelby all over again. Except this time, she’d be perfect for him because she’d respect him for going into archaeology. She also lived in Boston, so if things developed between them, they’d be able to stay together after the dig ended.
