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“Fuck, you had me going there.” Olivia’s tension released in a short burst of laughter. “I’m already on edge after spending the drive listening to TJ brag about his ‘hard-core’ experience battling scorpions in the Jordanian desert.”
“The guy never shuts up, does he? But he’s the only one obsessed with being hard-core. Obviously, Stuart’s not. Neither is Rick. He’s had some wild adventures, but he’s not trying to one-up everyone.”
Olivia’s stomach dropped. “You’ve met Rick before?”
“Yeah. Last fall when I was in Turkey illustrating the artifacts from a shipwreck. He’s a lot of fun.”
A powerful surge of jealousy flooded through Olivia. Had Dusty and Rick hooked up when they’d worked together? She could imagine someone as adventurous as Dusty being his type.
Not that it was any of her business, because she was completely over him.
“Um…sounds like Rick has a lot of experience.” The minute she said it, she cursed her choice of words.
Dusty chuckled. “In more ways than one. The guy gets around. I’m sure you know the type.”
Only too well. Except when Olivia had fallen for him, she’d thought she was special. But maybe he hooked up on every dig, and she’d just been the first in a long series of women.
As if sensing Olivia’s inner turmoil, Dusty spoke quickly. “Don’t get me wrong—he’s a great guy. He’s been working in the field for years, and he’s got a knack with students.”
Then why didn’t he go on to grad school? Back when they’d been nineteen, Rick had told Olivia he wanted to get his doctorate in archaeology and teach at the college level. But from the skimpy details he’d revealed on the drive, it was evident his life had followed a different route.
“Anyway—about sleeping outside,” Dusty said. “It doesn’t rain here in the summer, so we won’t get drenched. There’s no dangerous wildlife, and the mosquitoes aren’t bad if you use bug spray. Thank God, because the evil buggers tried to eat me alive at my last job in Tunisia.” She shuddered. “The local workers gave us this ointment called ‘Moustiquecalm’ that was supposed to drive them away. If anything, it made my skin tastier.”
Dusty’s candid humor was easier to take than TJ’s bragging. Olivia’s shoulders loosened as she let down her guard for the first time that day. “Everyone here has so much experience. Especially you and Stuart. I can’t imagine what it must have been like, spending all that time in Egypt on your parents’ digs.”
“Sometimes, I felt really lucky,” Dusty said. “Because of my folks, I got to explore sites tourists never visit. Living overseas put everything in a different perspective. But whenever we went back to the States, I felt like I didn’t fit in.”
A sharp whistle drew their attention. An actual whistle, like the type referees used in basketball games.
“How delightful,” Dusty muttered. “Grant’s at it again with the whistle. I told him earlier we’re not dogs.”
“Grant?”
“Dr. Grant Nilsson, Dr. Roth’s second-in-command. The blond, Swedish dude with a stick up his ass. I think he’s summoning you.”
Olivia battled a rush of trepidation as she went back outside. When Frida had worked at the field school last year, she’d described Dr. Nilsson as a joyless control freak. Though his rank as assistant director placed him below Dr. Roth, he wielded a lot of power since he oversaw the day-to-day logistics.
Just as Dusty said, Grant was so tall, pale, and blond that he gave off a chilly Nordic vibe. He stood on the porch, arms crossed, impatience radiating from every pore.
Hoping to hide her uneasiness, Olivia fixed a bright smile on her face. “Hi. You called for me?” Was this a Captain Von Trapp thing where they’d all end up getting their own whistle signals?
“I did. I believe a whistle is an effective way to call people to attention.” He extended his hand. “Welcome to Cyprus. I trust you arrived all right?”
She shook it. Maybe he wasn’t that bad. “I got here just fine. I appreciate Rick taking the time to pick me up.”
He gave a dismissive grunt. “Rick’s good at the little jobs.”
Ouch. Was that a jab at Rick? It seemed uncalled for.
“I’m Dr. Grant Nilsson, the assistant director of the University of California Archaeological Research Practicum in Cyprus. You may call me Grant if you wish, though I’ll be insisting on academic formality around the undergraduate students. You are not yet Dr. Sanchez, I take it?”
“One more year.” She shot him an eager grin. “If all goes well.”
“Let’s hope for that, shall we? Despite your stellar academic record, I’m a little disappointed Dr. Roth wasn’t able to find someone with actual field experience to serve as the female teaching assistant. I trust this won’t be a problem when it comes to leading the students?”
His words cut into her, bringing back the doubts she’d harbored when she first agreed to take the job. She struggled to recall her accomplishments. “I…I don’t think it should. I spent three years as a TA at UCLA, so I’m good with students. I’m well versed in the history of the Eastern Mediterranean, from the Bronze Age to the early Byzantine era. I speak Greek. And…”
She couldn’t think of anything else. Not a damn thing.
