Page 2 of Troy Story
“Your drawings may pull in enough to keep you clothed and fed, but you’ve spent years pillaging my frequent-flier miles and making use of our family’s apartments without paying a dime. I let it happen because I wanted to encourage your passion for travel, but you need to be grounded for a spell.”
Grounded. A hypocritical demand, coming from a woman who’d never managed to settle in one place. When not excavating in Egypt, Dusty’s mother split her time between an apartment in Cairo, a condo in Boston, and a town house in London. Even then, she never passed up an opportunity to give a guest lecture, lead a tour, or speak at a conference, no matter where it took her.
Dusty’s father—also a fellow Egyptologist—had once accompanied her everywhere. Now that he was retired, he spent most of his time in Boston, which was why Dusty had chosen to attend graduate school there. But like her mother, she found it hard to resist the lure of travel. An incessant need to keep going, in the hope she might one day figure out where she truly belonged.
Before Dusty could protest, her mother gave her the no-nonsense frown that effectively ended any argument. “After this project ends, I want you on a flight back to Boston. You need to stop running and focus on your future. Got it?”
“Got it.” Dusty offered a conciliatory smile. “Who knows? Maybe this dig will inspire me. I could write about the site of Troy for my dissertation.”
When her mother didn’t smile in return, Dusty knew better than to promise something she couldn’t deliver. She’d gotten just as fired up on her last three digs, only to have her ideas fizzle out before she started writing.
She stood, eager to put some distance between them. “Can I go now? I’m supposed to Zoom with Stuart.”
“Tell him hello from me, will you? And offer my congratulations. Not just for the Troy project but for landing a teaching job in Boston. I’m so proud of all he’s accomplished.” Dr. Danforth gathered up her teacup and saucer. “I won’t be home tonight since I’m having dinner with the people from Ancient Excursions. They want me to lead another VIP tour through Egypt this fall. Quite honestly, I don’t know if I have it in me. Tourists can be so tiresome.”
“Like that tech bro who insisted aliens built the pyramids? Dad said you blew up at him.”
“I would never do anything so uncouth.” Her mother gave a wicked smile. “I just made certain he got an obscenely grumpy camel during our jaunt around Giza.”
Dusty had to hand it to her—as prim as she appeared when she was off duty, her mom was tough as nails in the field. Even while leading pampered millionaires around Egypt, she didn’t put up with any shit. Thanks to her, Dusty had never let anyone belittle her because she was a woman.
She retreated into the apartment, taking momentary pleasure in the feel of the cool tiled floor against her bare feet. After grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, she went into her bedroom and shut the door.
The tiny room contained two twin beds, left over from the days when Stuart’s family would stay at the apartment after the dig season ended. She and Stuart would room together while their parents spent weeks in Cairo, networking with archaeology professors, museum curators, and dignitaries. Since both of them were only children, they’d grown up like siblings. As adults, they’d stayed close friends, no matter how many miles separated them.
But they’d never been anything more. Until that soul-crushing night, two years ago.
At the time, Stuart had been single, still reeling from a recent breakup with Shelby. When he’d come to Boston for an archaeology conference, Dusty had invited him to crash at her family’s condo. Since her parents had been in London, she’d had the place to herself. To distract Stuart from his misery, she’d taken him on an epic bar crawl. But their drunken foolishness had led to a passionate session on the couch where he’d fulfilled almost all her secret fantasies, including the tender words he’d whispered to her in the heat of the moment.
Thankfully, she’d been sober enough to hit the brakes before they had sex. In the short time it took her to fetch them some water, Stuart passed out on the couch. He woke the next morning, bleary and hungover, with no memory of anything they’d done. Dusty, on the other hand, remembered every detail. All weekend, she agonized over whether to tell him, but before she could summon up the courage, Shelby reached out to him, and they reconciled.
Since then, Dusty’s feelings for Stuart had progressed from an embarrassing crush to full-blown longing. Now that he was finally single, she needed to seize the moment this summer.
She plopped down on one of the beds, pulled up her laptop, and logged into her Zoom account. It was only 7:15 a.m. on the West Coast, but Stuart was the type who woke at six without an alarm clock.
When his face appeared on the screen, his thick, sandy-blond hair still looked sleep-mussed. He was cradling an insulated tumbler, no doubt filled with piping-hot coffee. His ocean-blue eyes danced in amusement at the sight of her. “Hey, Dusty. I like the new hair color.”
She patted her short, dark hair, which now bore a vivid purple streak. “Thanks. I dyed it yesterday. Naturally, Mom hated it. When we went out to the market, she insisted I wear a hat.” She returned his grin. “I see you’ve grown a beard, Dr. Carlson.”
“You like it?”
“Definitely. You’re totally rocking a distinguished professor vibe.”And making me swoon more than ever.She’d always been a sucker for hot guys with beards. To stop herself from drooling on camera, she directed her attention to the mountain of boxes behind him. “Why does your place resemble a storage unit?”
“Because I’m in packing hell, trying to box up my entire life in San Diego. I sold most of my furniture, but I still have too much crap for someone who’s only twenty-seven.”
“You’re such a pack rat. I’ll bet you could ditch half that stuff and not miss it. When are you driving out to Boston?”
“Next Monday. Please thank your parents—again—for letting me store everything in their condo. I’ve got a place lined up near the university, but the lease doesn’t start until August. I thought I’d have the entire summer to deal with this shit, but the Troy dig sped everything up.”
“So, basically, you’re driving to Boston, off-loading your boxes, and then hopping on a plane to Istanbul. All in the space of about ten days?”
He raked a hand through his hair, messing it even further. “That about covers it. Other than catching up on decades of excavation reports. Do you have any idea how many archaeologists have worked at Troy? It’s overwhelming. I’m hoping to make some headway on the plane ride over.”
She snorted. “You’re so disciplined. The only thing I ever do on those long-ass flights is watch movies.”
“Speaking of flights, are you coming? Did you get the green light from your mom?”
“I don’t need her approval. I’m my own person.”
