Page 16 of In Doubt
There will probably be no better time to ask.
“Same reason you are,” she tucks a strand of hair that’s come loose behind her ear and adjusts her glasses on the bridge of her nose.
I squint at her through the gloom. “And what’s that?”
The strand of hair slips free of her ear and she twists it around her index finger. “Professor Weaver is the best.”
I snort. “That isn’t an answer. There are plenty of other highly respected academics in the UK and abroad. Why Weaver? Why Weaver’s team?”
“Because … she’s prepared to run with new ideas, test new theories. She’s not wedded to the current way of thinking. She looks at everything critically and stands up for what she believes. She’s a woman in a field of stuffy, old men and she’s been prepared to go up against them when she has to.”
I nod. I can respect that too.
“I’ve wanted to work for her since the first day I met her. She breezed into the lecture hall and blew me away with her welcome speech. Showed us all these things she’d discovered. How they’d turned existing theories about how prehistoric people in Britain lived. I knew I wanted to be like her.” She shuffles along the trench and starts to scrape at the next patch of earth. “I’ve taken shitty internships every Summer. I even did one in the freezing cold up in Scotland over one Christmas. I’ve worked my butt off for this spot.”
“And you don’t think I have?”
She drops her gaze to the ground and I’m taking that as a yes.
“When I was six, I got dragged on a holiday to Greece with my parents. I remember being bored out of my mind. We were holed up in some luxury resort. There were no other kids and nothing for me to do. I kept getting yelled out for being too loud or touching stuff I wasn’t allowed to. In the end, I guess my dad realised he had to provide some form of entertainment for me so he took me to some ruin nearby and sat taking work calls while I climbed all over the thing. I don’t even remember what it was. I don’t think anyone actually told me. But it fired up my imagination. After that holiday, I wanted to visit old castles all the time. I’ve wanted to do this for as long as I can remember.”
“Digs mean actually having to get your hands dirty.”
“I’ve been on plenty of digs before. I do know.” I scowl at her. “That comment is pretty rich coming from the princess who lives in the mansion.”
“I didn’t always live there.”
She’s impossible. I don’t know why I’m even trying to make conversation. I pick up the discarded clipboard, checking what she’d scribbled on the sheet, before marking off the section I’ve just finished and turning to the next.
After a few minutes, she starts singing again. I grip the trowel so hard, I’m surprised it doesn’t snap.
How the fuck am I meant to get through the next few days without strangling the woman?
5
Giorgie
I’m hot and cramped in the trench. The scent of the alpha tickles my nose as I try to work. His scent is always domineering, just like him. Overpowering every other scent in the vicinity. Not that it is unpleasant. The opposite really. His scent is rich and flavoursome, sending unwanted tingles through my body. But it’s also imposing.
And, yes, I’m frustrated too, his scent making my skin tingle and my stomach swoop.
I squeeze my thighs together and huff out air through my nostrils, then rub at my nose with the palm of my hand.
The air is dusty too and stings my eyes. I try to blink it away. Then rock back onto my bottom, stretching my arms upwards to try to release the tension in my spine.
I glimpse towards Jake. He’s crouching forward, his left arm is braced against the ground as he works with his right. The sleeves of his linen shirt are rolled up and I can see the tight muscles of his biceps and the tendons in his arm, the trace of a tattoo peeking out from the material. My breath hitches a little.
He’s still pissed at me. I can tell by the angry creases lining his brow. That’s nothing new, though. He’s always pissed off with me. Just because I don’t simper up to him like every other girl on campus.
“Can you pass me my bottle of water, please?” I ask. My bottle’s rolled to his side of the trench and I don’t want to squeeze pass him to retrieve it. Don’t want to come too close to his body.
He harrumphs like I’ve asked him to lift half a dozen camels before hooking up the bottle in his big paw.
He holds it out to me and I’m forced to move towards him, leaning in to take it gingerly from his grasp, smelling his sweat beneath his scent and feeling his breath whistle close to my neck.
I snap off the lip and watch him as I bring the bottle to my lips and swallow several mouthfuls of warm water. He watches as I do, his gaze not leaving my face and in this dark, confined space, it feels strangely intimate. Like I’m stripping off my clothing in front of him and not simply taking a drink. My skin warms with the feeling and I have to force myself not to shiver.
I snap the lid back down and throw the bottle to the ground like it’s dynamite.
