Running Back (New York Leopards 2)

“Jeremy!” I jogged the last few steps to him. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

He pulled me into a hug. “Is that tan still from Ecuador? How was Ecuador?”

“It was novel not having people laugh at me all the time.” We exchanged wry grins. “No, it was great. Very impressive. But it wasn’t Ivernis.”

He squeezed my shoulder. “Thanks for doing all of this.”

“Not a problem!” I rocked back on my heels, pushing hair out of my face. I couldn’t stop grinning at him, and my cheeks hurt from sheer happiness. We had worked together for years—I had chosen my undergrad in order to study with him, and Ivernis was as much his baby as mine. No one had believed in us. Yet here we were, on the brink of discovery, and I could taste the anticipation of success.

He indicated the people on either side of him. “These are Professors Grace Ahearn and Duncan Grady. This is my student Natalie Sullivan—my former student. She’s brilliant.”

I laughed and reached out to meet each of their handshakes firmly. “So good to have you both here.”

Grace tossed an almost unnoticed glance at Duncan. Shit. Cultural insensitivity. “Grand to be here.”

In my own fecking country.

Oh, well. I turned back to Jeremy. “How have you been? How was the trip over? Any news in the manuscripts?”

He laughed and tweaked the side of his glasses in a familiar gesture. “All good. And you? All settled with the contract?”

“Yeah.” I tossed a glance back at Mike. His sisters had gathered at each shoulder. “Come on, let me introduce them to you.”

The O’Connors didn’t move as I brought the archaeologists over. Anna looked properly bored, while Lauren had on her frozen business face, but it was Mike’s expression that actually surprised me. I could have sworn a storm gathered in his eyes and dislike in his jawline before he smoothed it all away. Did he resent Jeremy because he’d been the original instigator of the excavation? I didn’t want Jeremy to know about all the drama beneath the signing. Good grad students didn’t have time for drama.

I moved a little closer to Jeremy, feeling protective under the stone-cold glares of the flame-headed siblings. “This is Dr. Jeremy Anderson, and Dr. Grace Ahearn and Dr. Duncan Grady. Dr. Anderson is the one who inspired me to work on Irish archaeology in the first place.”

Mike’s brows rose almost imperceptibly, but I had become a master of Michael deciphering, and that did not look favorable. I swallowed. “And these are the O’Connors. The, uh, new ones.”

Lauren reached out, business like, and shook hands, while Anna muttered hello and whipped out her cell so she could watch without having to participate. Mike followed a half second after his sister, wrapping his hand around Jeremy’s. “Hey.”

They were about the same height, though Mike was broader, and his muscles came from throwing people around, not dirt. Jeremy had a thinner face, and currently wore a grin as he shook Mike’s hand. “Running back for the Leopards, huh?”

Mike’s hand fell away. His shoulders relaxed, his eyes lidded and that false, charming grin came out. “Yeah, that’s me.”

“Too bad you guys lost so quickly this season. I rooted for you.”

Mike’s smile didn’t change, but I recognized the tension in the set of his eyes. “Hey, I’m always rooting for me.”

Jeremy waved a hand around. “You excited for the excavation?”

Mike smile widened. “Something like that.”

I cleared my throat. “Have you guys checked in at the inn yet? I thought I’d show you around and then we’d grab dinner in the village. But there’s no rush if you want to get settled in first.”

Jeremy smiled. “Maybe a tour first before dinner.”

I spent the next few hours pointing out the planned unit locations, and explaining what the resistivity specialist had said. Grace and Duncan had been working on Iron Age sites for longer than I had been alive. It was both intimidating, flattering, and depressing—the last because I realized very quickly into my tour that all three of them regarded me as an underling—a useful one, but certainly not the leader of the project. They had just as many ideas as I had, and as we talked it quickly became clear whose plans would trump whose.

And it was fine that mine were at the bottom of the pile. Really. I was twenty-four and they were in their fifties. Well. Jeremy was only thirty-seven.

But we were the money and they were the artists.

Which kind of sucked.

But I go

t it. I had to pay my dues. Besides, if this became a big deal, then I could just stay here. And if they liked me, they probably had a ton of connections that would be fantastic and helpful and everything I needed.