AllFreeNovel
Share Us
ChapterOne
Olivia Sanchez adjusted the straps of her enormous olive-green backpack. She felt like a giant turtle. Scratch that—she felt like a tiny turtle with an oversized shell. When she’d hoisted the heavy pack off the baggage carousel, the weight had sent her staggering sideways.
Clearly, the pack had been designed for someone who might be classified as “tall,” whereas Olivia measured a mere five foot two. Still, with the backpack on, her messy, dark brown curls pulled into a ponytail, and worn hiking boots covering her feet, she looked ready for adventure. Like a real archaeologist.
True, she had minimal field experience, but when it came to the ancient world, she knew her stuff.
After a final glance in the restroom mirror of the Larnaca International Airport, she gave her ponytail a toss, hoping to convey a sense of bravado. Even if she was thousands of miles from home, she wouldn’t let her anxiety derail her.
That’s right, people. Olivia Sanchez isn’t messing around. She’s a badass archaeologist and doesn’t take shit from anyone.
Then she snorted with laughter. No one would ever mistake her for a badass. She was a doctoral student of classical history at UCLA, most comfortable in the library surrounded by ancient tomes. Not a rugged explorer accustomed to roughing it in the great outdoors.
But at least she looked the part.
She wished she’d had more than two weeks’ notice to prepare for this trip, but the unexpected opportunity was too good to pass up. For the next six weeks, she’d be here in Cyprus, working as a teaching assistant at an archaeological field school. Instead of spending her summer in San Diego, she’d be living on a sun-drenched island in the Eastern Mediterranean.
Not only would this job give her academic resume a boost, but it would also give her a chance to redeem herself for the mistakes she’d made seven years ago on her first—and only—dig, back when she’d been nineteen.
With a little strut, she left the restroom and cleared Customs in the blink of an eye. All that remained was securing a ride. She scrolled through the slew of texts she’d received from her friend and fellow graduate student Frida Gallego, who’d worked in Cyprus last year.
Frida’s last message dampened a little of Olivia’s enthusiasm. Don’t count on getting picked up. Go to the taxi stand outside Arrivals and find a group taxi to the Paphos area.
Despite her friend’s warning, Olivia secretly hoped someone might be waiting for her. Someone with an air-conditioned ride and an ice-cold bottle of water. She headed for the Arrivals area of the Larnaca airport. All around her were brightly dressed tourists and lively families eager for the start of summer vacation. Cheerful tour guides waving bright blue flags waited for their clients. Sadly, no one held up a sign with her name on it.
Bracing herself for the heat, Olivia exited the sliding glass doors. The sweltering temperature and blinding sunshine hit her like a smack upside the head, and the clamoring noise assaulted her senses. Cars pulled up to the curb and honked. People called out to each other in a babble of languages.
With a swell of pride, she recognized three of them. She was fluent in Spanish, thanks to her father’s side of the family, the boisterous Mexican-American Sanchez clan. German was one of the language requirements for a doctorate in Classics. And Greek was a given, seeing as how her graduate research focused on the wine trade in Ancient Greece. Since it was the primary language spoken in the southern half of Cyprus, her fluency put her at an advantage.
At the taxi stand, she took her place in line behind an older couple. As they argued with the dispatcher, their demands escalated into a torrent of foul language.
Countless summers working at El Marinero, her family’s Mexican restaurant, had given Olivia little patience for rude customers. She was about to put the entitled tourists in their place when a sharp whistle grabbed her attention. She whipped her head around and caught sight of a battered green Jeep with a faded ragtop idling in front of the line of taxis.
The driver leaned out of the window and beckoned to her. “Hey, Olivia! Over here!”
Yes. Someone had come to get her.
She stepped out of the taxi line but stopped short when she got a closer look at the driver.
Rick Langston.
She had to be dreaming. She rubbed the grit from her eyes. Considering how little she’d slept on the red-eye from LAX to Athens, followed by the flight from Athens to Larnaca, she might be hallucinating.
“Olivia!”
Shit. It was him.
Her stomach bottomed out, her emotions churning in a stew of shock, anger, and guilt. After seven years apart, she’d never expected to see him again.
She marched up to the curb. “What are you doing here?”
Ignoring the barrage of horns, Rick got out of the Jeep and sauntered over to her.
The last time she’d seen him, he’d been nineteen—a cute, well-built nineteen, but still kind of gangly. A teenager. This was a man. Deeply tanned, broad-shouldered, and seriously ripped. Toss in thick, wavy brown hair, a strong jaw, and killer cheekbones, and the total effect was breathtaking.
But even if he was far hotter than she remembered, he was the last person she needed in her life right now. Given her lack of experience as a field archaeologist, she had enough to deal with. Adding an ex to the mix made everything even more stressful.
Not just any ex, but the guy who’d captured her heart when she’d met him on a dig in Clear Lake, California. A dig that ended so catastrophically she’d never been out in the field again.
