Page 7 of Troy Story
The thought of being needed filled Dusty with a warm glow. It wasn’t often that anyone needed her. Though she had no doubt her parents loved her, they were so busy with their academic careers that she often felt like unnecessary baggage.
“Thanks,” Stuart said. “Even if I’m stressed, I’m excited to be working at Troy. Do you remember when we watched the movie together?”
One of the things she loved most about Stuart was his nerdy passion for films set in the ancient world. Whether they involved gladiators, mummies, or Greek myths—he’d seen them all. Over the years, she’d done countless watch-alongs with him.
“How could I forgetTroy?” she said. “We watched it together when we were in Cairo over Christmas break. It was a total cheese-fest.”
“Maybe so, but you couldn’t stop drooling over Brad Pitt.”
When he gave a warm chuckle, her breath snagged in her throat. How was it possible he’d gotten even hotter over the past year? It had to be the beard. She yearned to feel those coarse bristles under her fingers.
She defused her momentary bout of weakness by nudging him playfully. “Can you blame me for ogling Brad? He was the perfect Achilles, and there were two scenes featuring his naked butt.”
They drove past a long stretch of farm fields until the sea came into view. The sight of the dark blue water shimmering along the coast made Dusty eager to jump in and cool off. “I’m hoping you weren’t stringing me along when you said we’d be staying near the beach.”
“Believe it. The field house is a mile south of Güzelyali, which is right on the Aegean. Should make for some great swimming on the weekends.”
“How’d you swing that?”
“The American Research Institute in Turkey owns the land and the building, so we’re renting it from them. Since it’s only fifteen minutes from Troy, the location’s ideal, but it’s an old building. The plumbing’s janky, it doesn’t have AC, and the decor is from the ’70s. But it’s a lot better than spending the next two months living in army tents.”
“You got that right.” Dusty had been on enough digs to appreciate any lodgings that included indoor plumbing and actual beds.
Güzelyali contained the usual amenities of a seaside village—boutique hotels, luxury villas, outdoor restaurants, tiny cafés, and touristy shops. After they drove past the edge of town, Stuart headed down a side road until they reached a small compound bordered by a row of olive trees. At the center was a sprawling, one-story house; beside it was a storage shed and an open garage containing another Land Rover and a battered Ford truck. One side of the yard held a tented area with two rows of picnic tables underneath. Not a bad setup, especially compared to some of the rustic projects she’d worked on.
Stuart parked on a gravel stretch beside a shiny Volkswagen Passat. “Here we are. Home sweet home for the next two months.”
Dusty frowned at the other car. “That doesn’t look like a dig vehicle. You said no one else was coming today.”
“It probably belongs to the housekeeper. She cleaned the whole place yesterday but needed to drop off more towels and bedding. We also have two local women coming during the week to cook our midday and evening meals. But tonight, I figured we could hit a place on the beach and have a nice dinner.”
Yes.An intimate dinner would be the perfect opportunity to gauge Stuart’s feelings for her. “That would be great. It’s been ages since we’ve really talked.”
In the months following his breakup, Stuart had been oddly uncommunicative. Dusty had found his behavior frustrating but hadn’t pushed him on it.
He released a drawn-out breath. “That’s on me. Sorry I was so evasive.”
She looked down, not wanting to reveal how hurt she’d been. “I get it. Shelby did a number on you. But you could have talked to me about it.”
“I could have, but it was embarrassing to admit that you—and everyone else—were right about Shelby. She was totally wrong for me. I can’t believe I spent so much time with a woman who never respected my profession. It took me a while to come to terms with it, but now that I’m on the other side, I’m ready to make amends.” He placed his hand over hers. “Okay?”
A shiver danced along her spine. Her evening with Stuart was looking more and more promising. “Okay, but you’re buying me dinner. I might even splurge and order dessert.”
He laughed. “You can order whatever you want. Let’s get you settled first.”
“Perfect. Thanks.” As Dusty unlatched her door and hopped out, a booming male voice made her freeze up. “Stuart, my boy. About time you showed up. And who’s the little lady?”
Little lady?She stood there in shock as a portly older man walked over to greet them. He was clad in a safari hat, a matching vest, and a pair of khaki shorts, like a colonial explorer. Next to him was a woman in her twenties, tall and slender, with wavy blond hair, who was a dead ringer for Shelby.
Like a ghost from the past come back to haunt them.
* * *
Stuart hated being blindsided.Whenever he took on a project, he made sure he was completely prepared so that he’d come across as a professional. Right now, he felt anything but as he faced down Mortimer Jones and his daughter, Clarissa. When he’d spoken to them earlier in the week, he’d written down their itinerary. They were supposed to be spending the night in Izmir. Or had he gotten the dates wrong? If so, it was a huge gaffe on his part.
He strode over to Mortimer and shook his hand. “Mr. Jones. It’s a pleasure to meet you in person. I’m sorry I wasn’t here to greet you earlier. I thought you’d be arriving tomorrow.”
The older man gave his hand a vigorous shake. “Call me Mort, please. Mr. Jones sounds like a stuffy businessman. As you can see, Clarissa and I are ready for adventure.”
