Page 7 of A Discovery: Love and Other Things

Miles and miles of powdery sand, littered with jagged rocks. My breath hitched in my chest at the sight of pale gold dunes as I peered out the window.

All the images I had seen in textbooks and documentaries simply hadn’t done the sight before me justice. This land held thousands of years of history under it, just waiting for someone to listen closely for the secrets it contained.

The chills running down my spine were inexplicable, but they reminded me this was my passion. In this moment, I knew the work that I was about to do here was my calling. I was certain of it.

According to the information we’d received about the internship, this dig was a continuation of one from last season. Dr. Campbell’s team had unearthed a temple dating back to the eighteenth dynasty, specifically from the era of noteworthy names like Akhenaten, Nefertiti, and the all-famous King Tut. It had been constructed sometime after the death of Pharaoh Akhenaten, the king who’d attempted to make Egypt a monotheistic country. During his reign, he had even changed the capital from Thebes to Amarna, which was four hours north of where we were. After his death, his only son and predecessor, Tutankhamun removed his royal court from Amarna and restored the practice of polytheism to the country. In an effort to revolt against the monotheistic rule that had once governed them, ancient Egyptians had desecrated many of the monuments devoted to Akhenaten and subsequently Tutankhamen, even though King Tut had reversed many of his father’s ordinances.

The temple that Dr. Campbell’s team had unearthed last year was believed to have been built sometime soon after Tutankhamen’s reign. The question was: who built it, and why?

A fog of hot dust hit my face as the car door opened, but I was eager to exit the cramped space and jumped without hesitation. Stretching my legs after the forty-minute drive felt glorious. The five of us had squished into the four available seats in the beat-up Land Cruiser. And I had somehow been volunteered as the one who had to lean forward all bunched up like a fetus.

The morning sunlight, though it wasn’t at its most severe yet, still had the power to pierce my corneas. I squinted through tears, wishing I had my sunglasses.

My ankles rolled as I stepped past the bank of larger rocks and my shoes filled with sand. Unfortunately, all I had in the way of footwear were the ballet flats I had worn on the plane, since my hiking boots, and sadly missed sunglasses, were somewhere in the abyss with all the other lost luggage in the universe, probably next to that place where socks go missing from the dryer.

“This is amazing!” I felt the earth shift beside my feet and glanced over to see Felipe taking in the surroundings through aviator shades while I used my hand to shield the sun from my frame of view.

I looked to where he was focused and saw a simple stone structure. Mudbricks laid atop one another formed a simple cube-shaped building with a very unassuming entrance that seemed too narrow for a human to enter. The appearance was sloppily constructed, something passersby would overlook if they saw it through their windshield. For a temple from the time of pharaohs, it was rather underwhelming and small, about the size of a cheap studio apartment. The desert around it seemed much more magnificent in comparison.

Just off to the side of the stone structure was a large white tent with men busy organizing tools and equipment that would be needed for today’s work. Two figures stood huddled close in conversation in front of the team. One was short and stocky with a rounded middle section that filled out his denim shirt and matching jeans. His mostly bald head was brown just like the rest of his skin with an outline of gray hair around the edge.

The other man had a frame opposite his comrade’s. He was tall and looked to be in excellent shape, judging from how his white shirt molded to his muscles. Dark blue jeans hung low on his hips. He was younger than the other man, maybe somewhere in his late thirties or early forties, just based on his full head of hair. Though sunglasses shielded his expression as he spoke to the shorter man, he appeared to be engaged in a tense conversation which resulted in his spine standing rigid like a rod.

The shorter man looked away having noticed our arrival. He quickly wiped his shiny head with a handkerchief before pocketing it and plopping on a wide-brimmed straw hat. His feet crunched on small rocks as he approached us. I took him for our mentor, going by his forwardness and assumed years of experience in the field.

“Welcome. Welcome.” He spoke to us in English, his voice high-pitched and speech hurried. “I am Mohammed Tasvir, the foreman for this excavation, but you may call me Mo.”

Foreman?I looked around the group to see if anyone else seemed as baffled as I was, but they all remained unaffected, like they had already known who the man was.Fuck you, Google.

My eyes shot to the looming figure next to Mo, who was now staring at us through the dark lenses of his shades.

Damn.

Mo continued speaking at a quick pace. “I hope you are ready to work because we have a lot to accomplish today. Now, I will pass the floor to your mentor for the next eight weeks.” He lifted his hand high to place it on Mr. Serious’s shoulder.

The man removed his glasses, revealing deep blue eyes, like the lapis lazuli that decorated the ancient death masks of the pharaohs. Sandy-blond hair streaked with highlights from sun exposure glistened in the sunlight.

Fuck me.Not literally. Well, maybe. Who could think straight withthatstanding in front of them?

And what kind of archaeological expert was so damn young and hot? Surely, there were rules about the limit of attractiveness for professors, since nearly all the ones I had seen were over the age of fifty and didn’t boast movie-star good looks.

My eyes darted around the group, but everyone just continued standing at attention as if a dirty-blond Brendan Fraser from hisMummydays hadn’t just waltzed into our lives. The only other person who seemed somewhat affected was Angela, who was focusing on pouting her glossed lips, pulling her shoulders back, and tilting her hips forward—her mating dance, if you will.

Those vibrant eyes, framed by tiny wrinkles at the corners, waded through our group, taking in each of our faces as if committing it to memory.

“As you’ve guessed, I’m James Campbell,” he began, his thick voice laden with a British accent that twisted my insides.

Why the fuck hadn’t I researched the man before coming here? Instead, I’d wanted to go into this blind like some “feel the vibe” hippie. If I’d only listened to my mother, I wouldn’t be standing here gawking at my dreamy mentor like a loser.So professional, Kitty.

“You were selected from a long list of outstanding applicants.”

Isabella’s spine straightened an inch taller as she gleamed with pride.

Dr. Campbell continued, “This means that I have the highest expectations for each of you. The next few weeks are not going to be easy or glamorous.” His stern tone commanded the attention of anyone within earshot. Even Mo was hanging on his every word. “This isn’t a vacation, so if you came here expecting to smoke water pipe under a palm tree, then I suggest you call your mother and have her book you a one-way ticket home.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, the tight cords in his tanned forearms flexing with the movement. None of us escaped his scrutinizing gaze as he slowly paced in front of us. “I expect professionalism from each of you. I won’t tolerate lateness, nor will I tolerate unpreparedness.”

He directed his attention toward Angela, who flashed him her most sultry smile—the one where one side of her mouth rose higher than the other. I had seen many a grown man fall victim to that smile, and let me tell you, ten out of ten red-blooded men took the bait.

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