Page 54 of Troy Story
“Are you sure? Em told me six thirty.” She grabbed her phone and typed quickly. When it buzzed with a response, she read it and let out an exasperated breath. “Seriously?”
“What is it?”
She snorted. “Here’s her reply:Sorry for the ruse, but you’re too damn stubborn. Enjoy your time alone with Stuart. We won’t be back until midnight. Followed by a wink emoji. Really, Em? A wink emoji?”
Before he could ask to see the text, their phones buzzed. This time, Emilia had sent a message to both of them:TJ and I cooked this up. We call it Operation Aphrodite.
Stuart groaned. Aphrodite was the Greek goddess of sexual love. A week ago, he would have been thrilled at this opportunity. Now he was pissed. He hated being manipulated.
Dusty set down her phone. “Nice try, Em, but I’ve got work to do. This dissertation won’t write itself.”
“I’ll let you get to it.” If she wanted to work in the library, then he could take the lab. They could get a lot done without the others around to interrupt them.
But was that what he wanted? The thought of spending the next few weeks at odds with her made his stomach clench up. Despite their bitter argument, she was still his closest friend.
He plopped down in the chair across from her. “I’m so sorry. About all of it. I’ve been a complete idiot.”
She shook her head, a regretful expression clouding her features. “I’m sorry, too. You warned me not to confront Hughes, but I didn’t listen, and I almost got fired. I only did that stupid spy mission to keep my job. I didn’t mean to make things worse for you.” She gave a curt laugh. “If you can believe it, Hughes told me that if I helped him out, he’d also put in a good word for you with Dr. Fiorelli.”
A painful ache tugged at his heart. “You never told me that.”
“I didn’t think it would make a difference, since it was probably just more of his bullshit. He obviously can’t be trusted. Even though I covered his ass when Wagner showed up, it didn’t change anything. He hates me because he’ll never forgive my mother for what she did. When they were on that tour together, she reported him for predatory behavior, and he got sent home early. He retaliated by calling my father and telling him my mom had cheated on him.”
“What?” Stuart stared at her in horror. “When did you find this out?”
“A few hours ago. Now I see why Mom warned me against working with him.” She twisted her pencil between her fingers. “I’m trying to decide if I should stay or pack up and call it a day. Hughes is just too fucking toxic.”
He reached over to take her hand. “Please stay.”
“My being here isn’t exactly helping you. Not like I hoped.”
“I want you here. I’m sorry I was such a fucking coward. I need to stand up to Hughes.”
“Don’t do it on my behalf. Like you said, I’ll be okay wherever I end up.” There was no anger in her words, just a sad resignation. Like she’d already lost.
“It’s not just you. This week, he’s been so determined to uncover more skeletons that he’s been pushing the students too hard and not letting them take their breaks. I need to remind him of the rules.”
A ghost of a smile crossed her face. “You and your rules. That’s the Stuart I know and love.”
She’d said “love.” That had to count for something. “Rules are important. They’re one of the few things saving us from chaos. Well, that and spreadsheets.” From the way her smile grew, he knew he was winning her over.
“You really want me to stay?” she asked.
“Please.” He squeezed her hand. “You’re my best friend. I don’t want to do this without you.”
“If you insist.” She pushed the reports away. “I don’t feel like working. You know what I’d love, though? A drink. Is there any beer left in the fridge?”
“Sadly, no. But Hughes has a ton of booze in his room. Want to snitch some?”
“Stuart Carlson? Are you suggesting we steal?” She stood and grinned at him. “I like this version of you. We’ve got until midnight, right? Let’s have some fun.”
CHAPTERTWENTY-TWO
Dusty almost suggested they forget about drinks and head straight to bed. Thanks to Em and TJ, they’d been granted a golden opportunity. Six hours alone in the field house. They could go directly to Stuart’s room, shuck off their clothes, and get down to it.
But they’d barely spoken in the past five days. During that time, Dusty had let her bitterness fester. She needed time to warm up to Stuart again. One drink, maybe two. Just enough to reignite the spark between them.
She followed him out of the lab and down the hall toward their boss’s room. As he unlocked the door, she recoiled in disgust. The room reeked of stale booze, sweat, and unwashed socks. A mishmash of dirty laundry, crumpled wrappers, and books covered the floor.
