Page 34 of Troy Story
“But you were carrying a torch for him.” Clarissa placed her hand over her heart. “A secret, burning love that was eating you up from the inside. It’s so romantic.”
Dusty stared at her. Could anyone truly be that good-natured? “You’re okay with it?”
“Of course. I mean, he’s a total snack. Hot, smart, sensitive. But I didn’t feel any sparks from him. Probably because he’s so obsessed withyou.” Clarissa inched over to the nightstand, dug into the baklava, and took a bite. She let out a groan of satisfaction. “Oh, that’s good.”
Emilia grinned at Dusty. “If you and Stuart need our room for a private session, just let us know. We’ll be sure to give you some space.”
Dusty snickered as she imagined draping one of her bandannas over the doorknob as a signal. “Thanks for the offer, but Stuart has his own room. For now, we’re going to hold off.”
“Why?” Emilia sounded even more disappointed than Dusty felt.
“The walls here are paper-thin. Remember last night when we heard someone snoring? It was like he was in the same room with us.”
Clarissa wrinkled her nose. “Whoever it was, he was so loud I had to wear earplugs.”
“I’m pretty sure it was TJ,” Emilia said. “But, yeah, it might be stressful trying to keep things quiet while in the throes of passion. Unless you could find somewhere else to go?”
“We’ll figure it out. This is all kind of new and…” Dusty hesitated, unsure of whether to say any more. It was one thing to confess that she wanted to drag Stuart off to bed but another to admit how deeply she cared for him.
“What?” Emilia demanded.
Feeling self-conscious, Dusty covered her face. “I might want more than just a hookup? Like an actual relationship? I don’t know.”
Emilia waved her fork at her. “Slow down. You can worry about the future later.”
“True.” There was no sense getting ahead of herself, not when they still had over a month left at Troy. “Speaking of the future, are we all set for Operation Odysseus tomorrow?”
Clarissa gave her a thumbs-up. “I called Dad tonight, and he’s all in. Tomorrow morning, he’s going to swing by at six thirty and give me a ride to the site. That way, I can give him the bag with our disguises. He’ll work with us until nine thirty and then leave for the café. At ten, the three of us will walk down there for our morning break.”
“Good plan,” Dusty said. “After we change at the café, we can head over to Dr. Wagner’s dig site. I’m not sure how much he’ll tell us, but we’ll do our best to charm him.”
“I’m kind of excited. And scared. Definitely scared,” Clarissa said. “I’ve never done anything like this before.”
“Me neither,” Emilia said.
“We should be okay as long as Wagner doesn’t recognize us,” Dusty said. “After that, we’ll have to make sure we don’t walk past his site on our way to the café or the parking lot.”
“Now that you and Stuart are together, are you okay not telling him?” Clarissa asked.
Dusty released a drawn-out breath. “I hate keeping secrets, but Hughes didn’t want him to know. At least this way, if something goes wrong, he won’t be implicated.”
“But nothing’s going to go wrong,” Clarissa said. “Right? It’s a good plan.”
That still didn’t mean it wouldn’t go sideways. Or that Stuart wouldn’t somehow find out. But Dusty couldn’t focus on failure. If she had any hope of staying at Troy, Operation Odysseushadto work.
CHAPTERFOURTEEN
Whenever Stuart worked on a dig, his favorite time of day was early morning, just around sunrise. Evenings were fun, when the crew could unwind together, playing cards, sharing stories, relaxing with a beer. But waking up before everyone else gave him time to think. To enjoy the cool morning air before the sweltering heat became oppressive.
After firing up the coffeepot, he wandered outside and sat on the patio. The breeze ruffled his hair and brought with it the scent of dried grass. Unlike most mornings, he wasn’t thinking about the dig. Instead of reviewing his mental checklist, he let his mind wander back to his romantic dinner with Dusty. Last night, when he opened up to her, he hadn’t known how she’d react. She could have been offended. Or uncomfortable. Or pitied him, which would have been the worst reaction of all. But she’d felt the same way he had.
Shewantedhim.
But for how long? In all the years he’d known her, he’d never seen her in a serious relationship. Most of her flings lasted two or three months at most. He couldn’t recall a time when she’d ever committed to anything for longer than a dig season.
Except for their friendship.
They’d been friends for twenty years, and she’d never let him down. Even when they’d been thousands of miles apart, separated by ten time zones, she’d always answered his texts. If he wanted to talk face-to-face, she’d jump on a call via FaceTime or Zoom. She might show up on his screen with her hair dyed crimson, teal, or fuchsia, but he could always count on her encouraging smile and snarky sense of humor. When she said, “ride or die,” she meant it.
