“No can do.” She smiled sweetly. “I’ve got extra torture in store for y’all and gotta get the arsenal prepped.”
She held up a packet of flora references, a comprehensive guide to desert plant life and what plants to look out for.
Hunter feigned a groan.
She grinned. “And there’s more where this came from.”
“Why don’t you just digitize all of these so we can look them up on our phones?”
Rose laughed. “Phones die. Crash. Get lost.”
“And paper blows away,” Hunter retorted.
Her smile lifted higher. “I believe the wise Yoda once said, ‘Not if your clipboard you use, young Jedi.’”
Hunter chuckled, as did a few others. “Come on. All you do is work,” he persisted.
Kelsey walked up behind him. “Right? How often to you get a break to just chill out over a movie in a mansion? Besides, you’re always joking around about how those movies are way wrong about archaeology.”
True. She loved the movies—and watching movies in general, one of the many activities she and her dad had done together. And what archaeologist didn’t love to pick apart the falsities of their profession portrayed in the films? It had become somewhat of a rite of passage. She even had a bullwhip sticker on her laptop lid.
“He’s got a point. You do always work.” Kelsey said. “And Mister Dixon’s flat screen is awesome, you gotta admit.”
That disappointment pinched her chest again. Hunter did have a point. So did Kelsey, dammit. And normally, Rose used field school as a chance to live a little. She took the crew for tacos at this amazing restaurant called Juanita’s, took them on weekend field trips, and often spent the evenings lazing around a fire ring late into the night with her mug of tea, enjoying the chance to just…exhale. But she hadn’t accounted for Toby Dixon this year.
“Sorry, guys. These packets won’t prep themselves, and you’ll need them in the morning. Reference keys to the artwork, an article about the site by my old professor, a guide to the wildlife. I wish I could, but as much as I want to, I gotta do my work first. It’s the whole reason I’m here.”
Hunter shrugged, and Kelsey stuck out a pouty lip but then smiled. “Okay, fine. There you go being responsible.”
“You know Mister Dixon is gonna be disappointed,” Hunter called over his shoulder as she leaned out the door to wave the group off.
“Why is that?” Her brow crinkled, and that disappointment in her stomach did a flip of anticipation.
She swilled her can of tea as Hunter grinned. “In case you can’t see it with your specs on, Prof, that dude is diggin’ on you hard enough to put an archaeologist to shame!”
The tea hit the wrong pipe. Coughing, she slapped her chest. Hard. Cleared her throat as Hunter grinned and the others chuckled. Except Howie, whose mouth had settled into a tight, grim line.
“What?” she croaked.
“It’s not like the Hot Rancher isn’t being obvious!” Meg laughed, garnering a chuckle from the others. Megan was lucky she and Rose were already friends from grad school before Rose had been tossed this adjunct bone.
“I seriously doubt it,” Rose replied, shaking her head.
Meg teased, “Doubt it all you want—”
“Bye, kids!” Rose shut the door, grabbing her earbuds to tune out their ribbing and receding footsteps crunching the gravel. But their remarks replayed in her mind.
She recalled the cute divot in Toby’s cheek, the way his blue eyes had trailed over her, the way in which he’d slid his arms gently around her down at panther shaman that morning when he’d surprised her about the pottery, the allure of that piney freshness, the gruffness in his voice when he’d asked about Sage’s daddy…
“Jeez, chill out, woman,” she scolded herself. “He’s a grown man with a ranch to run. He probably won’t even notice your absence.”
But just the thought of him coming on to her made her belly twist with heat that had gone unsatisfied for far too long. She held her can of tea to her forehead, then held it to her chest and bare cleavage. Her heart suddenly felt like it raced, trilling like a snare drum, at the thought of Toby genuinely liking her in return.
“Get to work,” she said, setting aside the can. “I’m being stupid over this guy. He likes me, so what? Need I be reminded about that bra I spotted in his Bronco? Also, my historically poor taste in men?”
She arrowed ahead to Duran Duran on her playlist and began stapling, labeling, stacking, stapling, labeling, stacking, paper clipping, stacking, as her ’80s jams moved from song to song, putting a bounce in her stance as she stood at the counter. If she kept up this pace, she’d make good time and still have time to kick back with a book outside before the students returned. This album always made her want to dance. She hadn’t danced since that fated night when she’d allowed Sage’s DNA donor to take her back to his hotel room. Unless she was alone. Then she allowed that spirit a little leash.
Ah, her favorite song had come up on the playlist. She hit the stapler, shimmied, swayed to the rhythm as the song’s energy infused her with a smile and she began to sing aloud to herself. Her mind wandered as she tossed the packet onto to the stack. What would it be like to dance it up with a guy like Toby? To forget all about responsibility? To just exist, have a beer, be that woman he lusted for, just for a night?