Running Back (New York Leopards 2)

So I leaned over and kissed him.

* * *

“Goal!”

The ball tumbled past the posts and made a dive for the hill beyond. Finn, the conscripted goalie, watched it with some regret and more disdain. I cheered and threw my arms around Anna, who let out a squeal that could have been at her perfect kick, but probably came as protest to my sweaty hug.

I jogged over to the sidelines, swapping out with Anka for the last three minutes of play, and scooped up my water bottle, chugging it down as the clock ran out. Twelve to seven, more than enough to make Mike scowl like a child when he joined me at the sides. “Don’t be such a baby,” I called, and then undermined that with, “Losers weepers!”

“You didn’t find anything!” he shot back.

I did a small victory jig. “I found a winning score.”

He reached out and pulled me toward him. “That’s what you call scoring?”

I wanted to kiss him until his eyes shut all the way. “You’re just trying to distract me because you’re a sore loser.”

“Just try me in real football,” he grumbled, and then our lips touched.

I pulled back and swished the rest of my water over him.

He let out a cry, even though I knew it had to feel nice after an afternoon of running. I grinned and darted backward as he reached for me, and then sprinted full force across the field.

Mike tackled me—of course he did—but twisted so he took the brunt of the fall and cushioned my body. The impact didn’t even deter him, because a second after, he rolled over and pinned me to the ground.

He blocked out the sky. All red and gold and laughter, and my scowl had no heat. “No fair.”

He braced his arms on the ground, keeping bare inches between our bodies. “Who said I was trying to play fair?”

“Um...” I kept getting distracted by the light in his eyes. “Fair is good.”

“Scoring’s better.”

If this started, it wasn’t going to end, and if I turned my head I could see Jeremy’s shoes. I hooked Mike’s ankle and bucked him off me.

He cracked a smile as he smacked into the grass. “Damn. You’re strong.”

“I know. That was mostly leverage, though.” I rolled off him and offered him a hand up. “I’m secretly a spy.”

Laughing and teasing, we trooped over to the pub, a hot mess of bodies and sweat that Finn looked relieved to not have to handle for once. Anna promptly sat down in his line of vision and started chatting with the other teenagers she’d befriended.

It had been good to have a day of activity that wasn’t just digging through nothing. For the past five days, we’d labored intensely for zero results. We dug. We sifted. We opened new units. The frown lines deepened around Jeremy’s mouth. Grace and Duncan looked more and more dissatisfied. And I felt guilty.

But the crew seemed happy, and a game of soccer let everyone feel better. I’d always thought of archaeology as the classic work hard and party harder—after seven hours in the field, all anyone wanted to do was kick around a ball or drink loads of beer. We’d nominally played crew against locals, but really it had been everyone athletic against Mike, in a sure move to make him lose. It had put everyone in a very good mood, and now the pub rang with laughter.

I looked around the room and realized I recognized half the people, and it made a different part of my heart ache, like when you get a good book cry. I liked people tapping me on the shoulder or shouting across the room to me or a bench being so full thighs touched. I liked belonging.

Across the room Maggie sat down next to Kate, and the two women nodded stiffly. I watched as they engaged in conversation over two large mugs.

“What does your mom do?”

Mike surreptitiously moved his potatoes onto my plate. “She’s an engineer for semi-conductor chips.”

I had not been expecting that answer. “What? Wow. How do you get into that?”

“I think she started off in the field when she was young and kept advancing.”

“Does she like it?”