The Cowboy's Texas Rose (The Dixons of Legacy Ranch 1)
He tipped his head back and released the most beautiful, most uninhibited baritone laugh, jamming his hands into his pockets, which only showcased his belt buckle and lean stomach more.
“John Wayne. Man, I cut my teeth on those films with my daddy.”
She smiled. So he did have a fond memory or two of the man who’d been so tough on him.
“You’re like a walking repository for weird movie quotes. Except I distinctly remember that line being delivered with more colorful language than ‘rear.’”
“Well, there are children in our midst,” she grinned, winking at her other students who were also grinning.
He chuckled.
“Did you need something?” she said, returning to her drawing.
He peered over the datum post at her form. “What’re you working on?”
She showed him the form, pushing up onto her knees while he squatted down. “Right here’s the—”
“We’re unearthing this grass mat, which is actually made from yucca leaves, not grass because there is no grass here,” Kelsey piped up, all smiles and adoration as she gazed at Toby.
Toby glanced at her, smiling his sexy smile, though Rose noticed a tightness there.
“That’s fascinating.” His eyes snaked from Kelsey’s back to hers. “So, Doctor Morales. What’s all this?”
He didn’t look at Kelsey again, only at her, as if sending her student a silent message that this was a two-person conversation. Rose smiled to herself. She’d been so certain at first that a man like the Toby she’d met at Stella’s would enjoy the attention of a pretty young woman like Kelsey. Maybe she’d been wrong all along.
“It’s a scale drawing of this unit. Everything here is to scale. Once we’ve taken off the rest of this ten-centimeter layer of dirt, I’ll set up the tripod to get a series of measured bird’s-eye photos to correspond with this paper and be able to compare this with other units at other sites and see if any patterns of use emerge.”
Toby, genuinely interested, scrutinized the form, then looked at the actual mat. “Our sheep unearthed a few of these by trampling on them. Fascinating that they didn’t weather away.”
“The dry conditions in this shelter, along with protection from the elements, acted like a time warp.”
“Speaking of shelters, I’ve got something I want to show you.”
Her pulse jumped. And while his toe-popping kiss had done that, too, this was from pure, unadulterated hope that he might be suggesting what she hoped he was.
“I’ve got to work until one, and then I’ve got to take the artifacts up to the lab,” she said.
Toby shrugged. “How about I help you haul it all up to my house, and then we talk?” Toby asked. “I can hang out for a few.”
She checked at the time again. At this point, there were only a few minutes left before one o’clock. She glanced at Howard, who was smirking at her but looked away, shaking his head. Bitter man.
“Sure. There’re twelve bags to take up today. Not many, but with an extra pair of hands I can transport them more carefully.”
He nodded, and she forced herself to measure and plot five more points before giving in to the temptation to call an end to work. With Howard watching and brooding, she didn’t want to appear eager. Finally, it was quitting time. They walked single file along the trail, and Rose took up the rear. Kelsey, she noted, was quiet, playing off Toby’s indifference with indifference of her own.
Toby walked in the middle of the pack, his shirt tucked in, his arms tan and his little tattoo dark black in contrast. His scruff of hair fringing his nape glistened with sweat. Jammed into his rear pocket was his work rag, wadded against his pert cheek as if to beckon a woman to draw it out nice and slow. He carried a few paper sacks of artifacts in his hand: a partial stone biface—fractured, more netting with traces of red ochre paint, and some manufacturing debris from stone tool making. In her backpack, Rose carried the remainder: a child’s milk incisor, more flint debris, two broken spear points, and a frayed piece of some sort of weaving—either part of a sandal or a basket.
They arrived back at camp at long last. The sun beat down, bright, blazing hot. Rose pulled her bandana from a side pocket in her pack and wiped her forehead and neck, pushing her sunglasses up on her head. Toby watched her, standing on the periphery near his shiny work truck with the Legacy’s cattle decal on the door. He’d driven here, and he waited patiently while she gathered her crew around to give instructions, turning to him when finished.
“I guess I’m done here.”
He smiled. “I ordered a fajita bar to be delivered tonight. Assuming y’all want to watch the third Indiana Jones movie,” he drawled.
“A fajita bar?” another student asked. “Oh man, I was gonna skip the movie ’cause I’m feeling dead, but I’m all over that. Margaritas, too?”
“Nope,” interrupted Rose. “You’re underage, and there’s no alcohol sanctioned on a university-sponsored trip.” The faces drooped with good humor. “I know, I know. Another buzzkill.” She grinned. “And a fajita bar sounds amazing. You didn’t have to do that.”
Toby shrugged. “It’s just five trays of beans, rice, peppers, beef, and chicken and a giant bucket of hot tortillas from the best Mexican restaurant this side of the Rio Grande: the one and only Juanita’s.”