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ChapterThree
Though TJ continued talking for the rest of the drive, Olivia tuned him out. She traced her fingers over the photo of the Roman amphitheater on the postcard Rick had given her.
As a kid growing up in San Diego, she’d barely traveled anywhere outside of Southern California. Running a restaurant meant her family couldn’t pack up and leave town for a week. Holidays, weekends, and summer vacations were all times when the restaurant was at its busiest.
Even so, she’d caught the travel bug early, after getting hooked on the National Geographic Channel. When one of her friends sent her a postcard from Yosemite, she tacked it to the bulletin board in her room. Others followed—from friends, family members, and teachers. By the time she met Rick, she’d covered the entire board and had started on a second. “Once I really start traveling,” she’d told him, “I’m going to fill up that board with postcards from all over the world.”
Some traveler. In the seven years that had passed, she’d only been to Greece once. Thanks to a generous scholarship, she’d spent two months at the American School of Classical Studies in Athens, doing research for her dissertation. But she’d barely ventured outside the city, other than a few organized day trips.
Even if she hadn’t been living her dream, her life had been safer that way. More predictable. Things didn’t go off the rails when you stuck close to home and followed the rules.
But now that she was actually in Cyprus, she couldn’t deny the tiny seed of excitement growing inside of her. There was something so thrilling about seeing signs in a different language and anticipating new experiences. Her desire to travel might have diminished over the years, but it hadn’t vanished completely.
When the road curved, she caught a glimpse of the coast. They drove past a long stretch of beach where large, craggy rocks jutted out of the water. The Mediterranean was a stunning swath of turquoise, more vivid than any photograph.
She broke into TJ’s monologue. “Check out that view.”
“The Mediterranean is the bomb,” TJ said. “As soon as we have a free day, we need to hit the beach.”
“That would be great,” Olivia said.
“I take it you like to swim, Olivia?” Rick asked her.
Wiseass. He knew damn well she loved the water, because she’d been the first one in the lake when he’d dared her to go skinny-dipping. As a blaze of heat rose in her cheeks, she tried to keep her voice even. “I…I love swimming. In lakes or oceans. Anywhere, really.”
TJ seemed oblivious to her discomfort. “Awesome. Where’s the best beach in the area?”
“Coral Bay,” Rick said. “We can go there on Sunday for our day off.”
As it was, their schedule left little room for relaxation. The six-week field school was split between three weeks of ground surveying and three weeks of excavation. The students spent weekdays in the field and the lab, with Saturdays reserved for visiting museums and historic sites. If not for the Sunday breaks, they’d have no time off at all.
At a sign pointing toward the town of Kouklia, Rickheaded inland. He took them along a narrow road, past palm trees, cream-colored buildings, and a small village square containing a cluster of shops and restaurants.
When he stopped the Jeep, Olivia was at a loss. Frida had said a local school would be providing their accommodations, leading Olivia to envision a boarding school, with dormitories and actual beds.
At best, this place resembled a rural elementary school. It consisted of several one-story buildings, a few smaller outbuildings, a gravelly parking area, and an open field. Scattered around the grounds were gnarled olive trees providing small pockets of shade, but otherwise, the landscaping was minimal. Next to one of the buildings was a flagpole bearing a faded black flag that read “Camp Kouklia.” The logo was a skull and two crossed shovels.
Where were they supposed to sleep? The buildings didn’t appear large enough to house any bedrooms. She didn’t see any tents, either.
At this point, she was so tired she’d settle for curling up under one of the olive trees. After getting out of the Jeep, she retrieved her pack and hoisted it onto her shoulders. “Where should I put my stuff?”
“Over there.” Rick pointed to a one-story building with a wide porch. “We set up the women’s quarters in those classrooms.”
“Thanks. I can help you unload after this.”
He waved her away. “Don’t worry about it.”
Though she didn’t want special treatment—not when she was meant to be pulling her weight as a staff member—she was too exhausted to argue. She hauled her pack over to the porch and let it fall onto the wooden boards. What she wouldn’t give for a shower, followed by a long nap. As her lids fluttered shut, she willed herself to stay upright. She still had to get through the staff dinner.
At the sound of footsteps, she forced her eyes open, praying TJ hadn’t come to share another story. The sight of a familiar face gave her a burst of energy. “Stu! Great to see you.”
Like her, Stuart Carlson was a graduate student. She’d known him since their freshman year of college when they’d bonded in Latin class over their love of old-school gladiator movies, like Ben-Hur and Spartacus. Despite their shared passion for the ancient world and the fact that Stuart was pretty hot—tall, sandy-haired, and well-built—she’d never harbored any romantic feelings for him.
Stuart joined her on the porch. “I can’t believe you’re here. What a wicked surprise.”
“I know, right? I’m so glad you’re the other TA.”
“How’d Frida convince you to take her spot? I didn’t think you were the outdoorsy type.”
