Page 25 of Field Rules

“Sure.” He passed her the bottle. “Take as much as you need. You don’t want to get dehydrated.”

“Thanks.” She took a long swig and passed it back to him. Glancing over at the classroom, she gave a full-body shudder. “I really don’t want to go back in there.”

“Why? Is Grant’s riveting lecture technique not doing it for you?”

“What’s the story with you two? Are you archaeological rivals like Indy and Belloq from Raiders? Did you steal a priceless treasure from him?”

He nudged her. A slight nudge, but the feel of her bare shoulder against his was more tempting than it should have been. “You’re such a geek.”

She stuck out her tongue. “Takes one to know one. But seriously, what’s the deal, Indy? Unless it’s a deep, dark secret. Were you competing for the same woman?”

“Nothing like that. It happened about three years ago. After I graduated from Berkeley, I left home. Started traveling through the Mediterranean, going from dig to dig.”

“But why—”

“Let me tell the story, okay?” If she was planning to ask him why he hadn’t gone on to grad school, his tale would take a different turn, and not one he wanted.

“Sorry.” She stole his water bottle and took another drink. “Continue.”

“I’d been traveling for about a year when I got a job working at a field school in Crete. Grant was one of the TAs there, and—no surprise—he was a grumpy, controlling dickhead. During the last week of the course, one of the undergrads messed up when he was entering his field notes into the database. The system crashed, and we lost a lot of data. Rather than wait to see if we could recover it, Grant went off on him. Like, totally lost his shit. The student ended up filing a formal complaint. Said Grant was verbally abusive.”

The memory still infuriated Rick. The poor kid had cowered in shame as Grant chewed him out in full view of the other students.

“That’s awful,” Olivia said. “I can’t imagine treating a student like that.”

“Same here. I stood up for the kid, only to have Grant ream me out for questioning his authority. But three weeks later, he had the balls to contact me. He asked me to write a letter on his behalf, vouching for his character.”

Olivia drew in a breath. “You didn’t, did you?”

“Nope. I told him he shouldn’t be supervising students—not until he’d taken an anger management course or whatever. He was so furious, he said he’d ruin my name in the field.”

“What a dick. I hate him even more now.” She aimed a glare toward the classroom.

Rick derived immense pleasure from seeing her anger directed at someone other than himself. “Maybe I should have played his game, but I wasn’t trying to get ahead in the academic world. I wanted the students to enjoy themselves, and Grant didn’t make that possible.”

“I always thought you’d make a great teacher.”

Nope, not going down that road. “I’m not sure about that. I’d rather be outside than in a classroom. But now you know why Grant hates my guts.”

“He needs to get his comeuppance. Like Belloq.” She smacked her fist into her palm. “Though in a less violent way.”

“True. We don’t need anyone’s head exploding.”

Though he could joke about it, he still hadn’t forgotten how shitty Grant had made him feel when they’d worked together. Like he was worthless because he wasn’t in grad school. Even now, after he’d spent three more years working in the field, Grant still treated him the same way.

Olivia’s voice snapped him back to the present. “Got any food? I’m starving?”

“Hang on.” He went over to the kitchen outbuilding, rifled around in the pantry, and brought back a bowl of figs. “Here. Leftover from breakfast but still good.”

He sat with her in the shade as they munched on ripe figs and passed the water bottle back and forth. Though he tried not to drift into inappropriate fantasies, he couldn’t resist sneaking a few glances at her.

Dressed only in a tank top and shorts, her sexy figure was on full display. The swell of her breasts underneath the thin cotton, the curve of her bare shoulders, the expanse of thigh peeking out from under the hem of her shorts. He wanted to touch it all.

She turned abruptly. “You’re staring again. What is it? Do I have something on my face?”

“Nah, you’re just…”

“What?”

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