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Another thirty-five minutes to go. The drive couldn’t end soon enough.
As the city of Limassol came into view, Rick was irked by the proliferation of high-rise buildings under construction. In the short time he’d been away from Cyprus, more condos, luxury villas, and expensive hotels had cropped up on the island. A newly erected billboard advertising Starbucks made his hackles rise. Though he had nothing against the chain, he didn’t want it to crowd out the local coffeehouses.
“Hey, Rick,” TJ said. “Once we get settled, I’m gonna need recs for authentic places to eat. I’ve never set foot inside a McDonald’s or a Starbucks, and I don’t plan to start now. I figured you’d have the inside scoop since you worked here last year.”
“You’ve been here before?” Olivia asked. “What were you working on?”
Her question filled Rick with a twinge of satisfaction. Nice to know he wasn’t the only one who harbored a little curiosity. “I spent a couple of months as a project manager on an archaeological survey for the Department of Antiquities. Most of the time, I was based in Paphos, which isn’t far from where we’ll be working.”
Once Rick passed the turnoff for Limassol, the high-rises were replaced by a sprawling expanse of buildings bearing the familiar red-tiled roofs so common to the Mediterranean. He imagined how liberating it would feel to drive into the city and drop off TJ at the nearest Intercity bus stop. Maybe if the guy wasn’t around to dominate the conversation, Rick could find out more about Olivia.
For the moment, however, TJ was still holding court. “Whenever I take on a project, I like to know where everyone’s worked to make sure they can hack it. Olivia, where’s the roughest place you’ve ever dug? For me, it would be excavating the ruins at Humayma in the Jordanian desert.”
“Um…fun fact about me.” Olivia’s voice wavered. “I don’t have any field experience. None worth mentioning, at any rate.”
She wasn’t even going to mention Clear Lake? The omission rankled Rick.
“First time in the field, eh?” TJ smirked. “I hope you like rough conditions, because this isn’t going to be a luxury vacation.”
“Damn,” she muttered. “I was hoping for a spa and a heated pool, at minimum.”
“Wait—you thought that?” Before she could reply, TJ burst out laughing. “That was a joke, right? Good one.”
Rick held back a groan. Could the drive be any more excruciating?
For a blessed few minutes, TJ was silent. Rick fiddled with the dials of the Jeep’s ancient radio until he found Viva FM—an English-language station playing a cheesy mix of ’70s and ’80s pop. When “Take A Chance on Me” started up, he wondered if Olivia was itching to sing along. ABBA had always been her go-to on karaoke nights.
TJ’s nasally voice rose above the song’s chorus. “So, Rick, on a scale of one to ten, how rough is this project gonna be? And by ten, I’m talking hard-core, like my experience in Jordan.”
Rick turned down the volume on the radio. “Dunno. Maybe a five?”
“Oh, so there’s running water? And flush toilets? Should be a breeze.”
As TJ regaled them with tales of his desert adventure, Rick stayed quiet, keeping his focus on the road. He could have spouted equally impressive horror stories—he’d been on digs with scorpions, blistering heat, grumpy camels, and droves of mosquitoes—but he was too tired to muster up the effort. His lids drooped as he fought back a yawn. When the Jeep swerved to the left, he shook himself awake.
“Rick? You okay?” Olivia’s voice was laced with concern.
“I’m wiped.” He rubbed his eyes, willing them to stay open.
“You can take a break if you want. We’re not in a hurry, right?”
“I’m supposed to get you back to camp by six. There’s a staff dinner at six thirty.”
Olivia pointed at the turnoff for Pissouri. “Can you take that exit? You could stop and grab some caffeine.”
“Good plan. I need to get gas anyway.” If he brought the Jeep back with less than a quarter tank, he’d get an earful from the assistant director of the field school.
He exited the highway and pulled into the nearest Petrolina station, then turned to face TJ and Olivia. “Do you want anything to drink? It’s on me.”
“Sure,” she said. “Diet Coke, please.”
“I’ll take a Mountain Dew,” TJ said.
“Got it.” Rick eased out of the Jeep and asked the waiting attendant to fill it with gas. Above him, the sky was a brilliant blue, the heat shimmering off the road in waves. He took a deep breath, grateful this was his last round of airport pickups for the day. Though he hated playing the role of errand boy, he’d kept his complaints to himself. In a few days, he’d be out in the field, doing what he loved best.
Olivia climbed out of the Jeep and caught up to him. She smoothed her hair, as though trying to tuck the wayward curls back into her ponytail. “Rick? Just so we’re clear…no one knows about us.”
“What do you mean?”
