Somebody to Love

by Unknown

  The same dilemma warred on his face. He had to be thinking about the mistake he’d made with Mallory and how it had caused problems with his career. “I’ve got to have some air. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Then just like that, he tucked his blanket under his arm and walked out of the tent, leaving Zoey feeling sorely disappointed.

  JERICHO’S INSIDES WERE twisted up like overgrown tree roots—entwined, snarled, constricted. He turned over on his side on the hard truck bed, drew the baize blanket to his shoulder. It smelled of lime rich soil, cool metal, and the slightly camphor scent of benzoin. Every time he tried to close his eyes he saw Zoey’s face, a dear face he knew so well. A face he could look at for a hundred years and never get tired of seeing.

  He groaned. Ah shit. He was in one hell of a pickle. What was wrong with him? He was a sensible man, famous for being practical and down-to-earth. How was it that he kept thinking colossally irrational thoughts about his best friend?

  It would be a hell of a lot easier if he could just tell her to quit the dig. Come right out and say, “Go.” Considering her history, archaeology was just another of her passing fancies. Nothing stuck with Zoey for long, that’s simply the way she was, and it was the primary reason these feelings scared him so damn much, but he could not be responsible for her losing her trust fund.

  He was the opposite. When he latched on to something, he internalized, made it part of who he was. What a recipe for disaster. Him latching on, her passing through.

  Then again, he was usually pretty good about resisting temptation. He was a scientist after all, who knew how to lead with his brain and tuck his emotions away, but sometimes, even the most dedicated of scientists had cravings that no amount of logic could cure or explain.

  That’s where he was. Stuck on the conflicting horns of want and need. He wanted Zoey, but needed to stay away from her. Ultimately, when it came down to the battle of logic versus desire, logic usually lost.

  And that’s what disturbed him most of all.

  THE FOLLOWING MORNING Zoey was determined to act like nothing was different between her and Jericho. Putting a happy face on rocky situations had gotten her this far in life, and she wasn’t about to abandon that philosophy now. She whistled while she took her turn making breakfast for the camp—burritos with scrambled eggs, salsa, and sausage. One of the other campers, Piper Patrolla, a shy, petite brunette who wore thick-lensed, lavender-framed glasses and a purple pith helmet, came over to help her. Piper was from Marfa, and like Zoey, this was her first field school experience. She didn’t talk much but she was always scribbling in a black and white composition notebook. Every time Zoey looked at her, she thought, Harriet the Spy.

  She and Piper worked in companionable silence until Catrina stumbled out of their tent and strolled over to the coffeepot. Piper tucked her notebook under her arm, stuck a pen behind her ear, and slunk off the minute Catrina appeared.

  “Are you always this freaking Mary Poppins in the morning?” Catrina groused.

  “Always.” Zoey beamed. “Even after I’ve been kicked out of my own tent.”

  Catrina gave her one of those sly gilded looks of hers that could have meant just about anything, lifted her coffee mug to her lips, and took a long sip. “Don’t pretend you didn’t take full advantage of it.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Admit it. Avery and I did you a favor.”

  “In what way?” Play dumb. That was the way to go.

  “Boom-chika-bow-wow.” Catrina winked.

  “Is that how you see it?” Zoey poured half a jar of Pace picante sauce over the egg and sausage mixture, and stirred it with a spatula as the rest of the dig team emerged from their tents, but no Jericho. He’d never come back to his tent, and when she’d gone to check on him, he had not been in the back of his pickup. “Because that’s not how it is.”

  “You and Dr. Chance are obviously hot for each other. A blind person can see it.”

  Zoey put a hand to her cheek. Was it that evident? “We’re just longtime friends.”

  Catrina snorted. “Even after last night?”

  Especially after last night. “Are you trying to say that you and Avery arranged your little tryst out of the concern for my love life?”

  Catrina laughed. “It was worth a shot.”

  Zoey put the pan of food on the camp table, stood up, and dusted her hand on the seat of her jeans. “I would appreciate it if you and Avery would find another place for your late night hookups.”

  Avery came out of her tent, scratching his bare chest. Catrina stared at him and licked her lips.

  “And dude,” Zoey yelled at him, “put a shirt on. Believe it or not there’s some among us that don’t want to see your naked junk.”

  Avery met Catrina’s eyes. “What’s wrong with her?”

  “She didn’t get any last night.”

  “You owe me ten bucks,” Avery said. “Told you Chance is one controlled cat.”

  “May I speak to you in private, Avery?” Jericho’s deep voice made everyone jump as he appeared from behind the copse of mesquite trees to the west of their camp.

  Instantly, Zoey’s pulse started pounding. “Breakfast is ready,” she announced at large as she watched Avery and Jericho walk away together.

  The rest of the group converged on the breakfast she’d made. She took a burrito for herself and sat down at the table with the crew. One of the guys, a gangly second-year student named Braden, who possessed carrot red hair, exceptionally knobby knees, and eyes the color of a glacier, was busily trying to work a nail puzzle. He’d been at the same puzzle all week. Zoey thought he and Piper would make a cute couple if either one of them would look up from what they were doing long enough to have a conversation with each other.

  “Da-amn,” Braden exclaimed. “This thing is impossible.”

  To distract herself from thoughts of Jericho, Zoey stuck out her palm. “Let me see it.”

  Snorting his disgust, Braden dropped the puzzle into her palm.

  She had it solved in under a minute.

  Braden blinked. “How’d you do that?”

  “I have a knack for puzzles.”

  “You must have done this one before. No one can do a puzzle that quick.”

  “I can. Got any more puzzles?”

  “Yes,” Braden said, disappeared into his tent and returned with a horseshoe puzzle.

  Zoey solved that one in less than fifteen seconds.

  “Da-amn, woman. You are good.”

  “Told ya.”

  “So are you like a genius or something?”

  “Not at all. I’m just good at seeing patterns in things.” She finished her burrito and went to help Piper scrub the dishes. She was elbow-deep in suds when she heard footsteps behind her.

  “You ready?”

  She turned to find Jericho standing there. “Ready for what?”

  “Research.”

  “Huh?”

  “I promised you that we’d research those artifacts you found. See if we can locate any information about a settlement having been where those mounds are.”

  “Oh yeah,” she said, yesterday’s enthusiasm long gone after the way he’d treated her last night.

  He stepped closer. “You okay?”

  “Fine,” she lied. Just looking at him made her simultaneously hot and cold. “How about you?”

  “Good. Great. Fantastic. You sleep well?”

  “Like an infant. You?”

  “Couldn’t have slept better if I’d popped an Ambien.”

  Oh, clearly she was not the only liar. The dark circles under his eyes said he hadn’t slept a wink. “Well, I couldn’t have slept better if I’d had sex all night,” she bragged.

  “Me either. In fact, who sleeps when they have sex all night?”

  “Good thing we didn’t have sex all night. Ya know”—she shrugged casually, desperate to belie the fierce thudding of her heart—“since we slept so well.”

  “Good th
ing,” he echoed.

  “Sleep is way better than sex.” Just shut the freaking hell up, Zoey. “Sex is so overrated.”

  “Uh-huh.” A smile plucking the corners of Jericho’s mouth said, Not if you’re doing it with me. “I’m going to wait for you in the truck. Come on down when you’re ready.”

  Chapter 9

  Obsidian dating: When obsidian is exposed by flaking, a physical change takes place as water is taken into the material’s structure, which occurs at a slow, constant rate.

  THE ride into Cupid was excruciatingly quiet. Zoey sat as far on her side of the truck as she could get. Jericho drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. They both stared straight ahead. After ten minutes of cruising down the long, straight desert road, she couldn’t take the silence any longer.

  “Mind if we have some tunes?” she asked.

  He waved a hand at the satellite radio. “Be my guest.”

  She knew he liked alternative rock, so she switched it to one of those stations. Savage Garden was playing “Truly, Madly, Deeply.” The duo sang about standing on a mountain with someone they loved. Ulp. Zoey punched buttons. Get away from the mushy love stuff, ASAP. She’d try some classic rock. Queen. “You’re My Best Friend.” Ack! Punch. Punch. Peter Gabriel. “In Your Eyes.” What was this? Love song morning? Forget what Jericho liked. She’d pick something she liked. Upbeat and cheery. Good old bubblegum pop. Toy-Box. “Best Friend.” Seriously? C’mon. She shut off the radio.

  “Couldn’t find anything you like?”

  On the contrary, she’d found something she liked very much. Him. That was the problem. “Not in the mood for music after all.”

  “I’ve got some archaeology lectures on mp3. Do you want to listen to that?”

  “Um, yeah. Sounds good.”

  Jericho loaded up a lecture. The speaker spoke in a boring monotone. Wonderful. There was nothing sexual or stimulating about that.

  She slid him a sidelong glance. What a profile! Those intriguing angles and lines of him. She’d studied that profile countless times over the years, but in an odd way, she’d never actually seen it until now. Never realized how his Native American heritage so majestically carved his bone structure. It was an exquisite profile. Brave and true. Honorable. Kingly. He possessed thick, black hair that could have given a young Elvis Presley a run for his money. Hair that made a woman ache to plunge her fingers through it.

  Her stomach fluttered, last night’s scary minnow-sharks turned to light-winged butterflies. What was he thinking? Was he concentrating on the lecture, or was he, as she was, shackled with deep desire and forbidden thoughts of sex, sex, sex?

  A flick of the tongue, a lick of the lips, the sweet remembrances of that fine backyard kiss. Torture. She had to stop torturing herself like this. But alas, she could not. Every breath she took filled her lungs with smells of him—sand and leather and sun, and underneath, the rich musk of man.

  His hands squeezed the steering wheel, the muscles in his wrists and forearms tightly bunched. She wallowed in the sight of those forearms spread with dark hairs, blue cotton shirt rolled up to the elbows, leather Fossil watchband strapped to his right wrist. A hot heaviness settled low in her abdomen, a heated anchor of raw hunger. What was happening here? Why was it happening? What had changed between them? Three years and more than a thousand miles? Was that enough to tip a solid friendship on its axis? Turn it into something far more sensual?

  Apparently so.

  Was there any way to put things back the way they used to be? If so, she wished someone would give her a road map, because she’d steered way off course and couldn’t find her way back.

  She couldn’t remember a time when she hadn’t known him. He was as much a fixture in her life as her sister, Natalie. He’d always just been there, consistent as the Davis Mountains standing guard over the Chihuahuan Desert. If something were to drive him from her life, she didn’t think she could bear the loss.

  “How’s your parents,” she asked, to distract herself.

  He smiled, shook his head. “The same. They’ll never change. Which is good, I suppose. The world needs more Craigs and Angies.”

  “Maybe so, but the Craigs and Angies shouldn’t have children,” she said.

  He turned his head to look at her. “Why do you say that?”

  “Look at how they treated you.”

  “If they hadn’t had a kid, I wouldn’t be here.”

  She folded her arms over her chest. “I’m still mad at them for the way they abandoned you.”

  “They don’t see it like that. To them, they were protecting me.”

  “Hey, here’s a thought, stay home and take care of your own kid before you start sprinting off to help orphans in other countries.”

  “They believe their work is a calling.”

  “What do you believe?” she asked.

  “I believe it’s not my place to judge them.”

  “Wow, obviously I’m not as enlightened as you because I judge them plenty for the way they dumped you on relatives.”

  “Why the strong feelings suddenly? You’ve never said anything about this before.”

  She shrugged. “I’ve been thinking a lot lately about our childhoods.”

  “Me too,” he said softly. “Two parentless kids cobbling together their own makeshift family.”

  That’s what was so weird about this thing. Growing up, they’d been almost like siblings, and then along the way they’d morphed into best friends, and now things between them were changing again.

  Was it a natural evolution or were they simply drawn to each other because they currently had a vacuum in their respective love lives? She was at a career crossroads as well, and Jericho seemed to hold the key. He was shedding the skin of his tattered relationship with Mallory and truly starting his professional career. Was this attraction nothing more than need-fulfillment on both their parts? Could they trust their feelings? Should they?

  “We were a couple of lonely kids with big imaginations,” she murmured. “We thought we could dig through the earth to China.”

  “You saved me, you know,” he said, his voice husky.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I was pretty wounded, but I didn’t know how to show it or ask for what I needed from my grandpa and Junie Mae. Digging that hole with you … well, it made a tough time bearable.”

  A hard lump clumped up her throat. “Glad I could help.” She tried for glib, but it came out stupidly sentimental.

  Jericho extended his right hand and rested it on the console between them, palm up.

  Zoey caught her breath. Did he want her to take his hand? She sneaked another glance at him. His eyes drilled the road, his expression unreadable.

  Unable to resist what was clearly an invitation, shakily she laid her hand on top of his. He closed his fingers around hers, interlacing them. She stared down at their joined hands—his large, hers tiny in comparison—and her mouth went dry.

  She remembered other times they’d held hands—when he’d guided her through the Cupid Caverns after she confessed she was afraid of the dark. The time they decided to climb up the roof of the B&B for a better vantage point from which to watch the Fourth of July fireworks being shot off at Cupid Lake and she’d slipped and he’d reached down his hand to catch her before she fell. At his grandpa Prufrock’s funeral, when he’d been unable to cry, his eyes dry and red-rimmed, she’d reached out to take his hand and he had not shaken her off.

  But none of those instances had ever felt like this. Then he’d either been rescuing her or she’d been comforting him. This was … well … she did not know what this was, but it was neither rescue nor comfort.

  He squeezed her fingers.

  She squeezed back.

  And if they hadn’t pulled up in front of the Cupid Museum, Zoey couldn’t help feeling they might have gone on holding hands forever.

  “WE HAVE NO record of any settlement ever having existed in the valley between Triangle Mount and Widow’s Peak,
” said the docent at the Trans-Pecos Historical Society in Alpine three hours later. The petite woman carefully unrolled a yellowed map of the area. “This is the oldest map we have on record. It’s from 1803 and well before either Fort Davis or Fort Stockton was built. As you can see, there’s nothing at the location you’re interested in.” She pointed out the area. “But that doesn’t mean there wasn’t some kind of settlement in there before 1803 or even a later settlement that was so short-lived that it never made it onto a map.”

  Jericho shook his head. This was the third confirmation that the mounds Zoey had started excavating had never been recognized as a settlement. Tabitha Crispin at the Cupid Museum had told them the same thing, as well as the research librarian at Sul Ross. Three strikes and they were out.

  “Thank you for your time,” he told the woman.

  “No problem. Feel free to give us a call if you have any more questions. I think it’s quite exciting that you’re excavating Triangle Mount. There’s been such an air of mystery about it for years,” the docent said.

  He ushered Zoey toward the door and it was all he could do not to put a possessive palm to the small of her back. In fact, to keep from doing it, he stuck his right hand into his pocket and used his left hand to push the door lever. He was already regretting offering his hand to her in the pickup on the drive from the dig site. He couldn’t say why he’d done it, but he wasn’t about to compound the problem.

  They stepped out into sunlight so bright that they both whipped out their sunglasses simultaneously and slipped them on.

  “I’m sorry I wasted your time,” she said, her disappointment palpable. “We lost a whole day researching when we could have been digging.”

  “Nothing is lost,” he said. “The team is still digging and this is part of the process. You follow leads and sometimes it’s a dead end.”

  “But it’s not a dead end, Jericho. I found those artifacts. There is something under those mounds whether the settlement was ever recorded or not.”

  “You know we can’t act on those finds. If we do so without permission, the school will be held liable, I’ll lose my job and Walker could cut off your funds, not to mention it will ruin the field school for the other students. Without some kind of proof there was a settlement beneath those mounds, we have nothing to twist Winz-Smith’s arms with.”