Raiders of the Lost Heart(31)

Much to her surprise, with a relaxing of his shoulders, Ford didn’t fight it. As if she’d given him the permission he needed to talk about it. He talked about his father’s love for archaeology, which had eventually turned into Ford’s love for archaeology. About the first dig they’d gone on together as volunteers in the southwest United States and later digs in Central America and Peru. About their tradition of going to various natural history museums throughout the United States for Ford’s birthday. Sometimes his mom had come along. Sometimes they’d go, just the two of them. But there’d always been somewhere new to see. Someplace new to explore.

But Corrie heard the doubt in his voice. Was Ford’s love for archaeology ever truly his own? Would he have become an archaeologist were it not for his father?

It was hard for Corrie to imagine that anyone who spoke about their job with as much passion and excitement as Ford would ever second-guess their career path. The fact that Ford lacked any self-confidence came as a surprise, to be honest. What had happened to him these last few years?

With their lunch long gone, they passed the mug back and forth as they talked about their curricula and compared notes. Gave each other pointers. Debated hypotheses about various ancient civilizations. The longer they talked, the drunker they got. And the drunker they got, the louder they got. Corrito Burrito was out in full force, but Corrie didn’t care. Ford’s laugh had just as much . . . character, often leaving him out of breath and keeling over when he found something particularly hilarious.

Such as every one of her bad, ridiculous jokes. But Corrie couldn’t help it that she was extra funny after splitting half a bottle of rye.

And as the booze improved Corrie’s hilarity, it also softened Ford’s features. He’d always been attractive. That much Corrie couldn’t deny. But until that moment, it had always been more in Ford’s hot and sexy sort of way. The I want to fuck you so hard that we both forget our names sort of way. Now, as she watched the corners of his eyes crease when he laughed and the perfect half-moon shape of his smile or the way he ran his fingers through his hair and looked up so his Adam’s apple bobbed on full display . . . Well, now Corrie had a new revelation: Ford was possibly the handsomest man she’d ever met.

She liked this Ford. The loosened-up, talkative, friendly Ford. It was too bad he wasn’t like this all the time. Perhaps they needed to start each morning with a shot of rye. A breakfast of champions.

“Okay, what about this?” Ford said. “Have you ever had a former student ask you out?”

She raised her brow. “You mean on a date?”

“Is there any other kind of asking out?”

Now he had to be drunk.

“You know,” she said, “I don’t know if I’ve ever had the pleasure.” She leaned back, wrapping her hands around her knee, which was propped up on the other, as she took in this new, open Ford.

“What? Bullshit,” he said, jutting forward then taking another sip of booze.

“No, it’s true,” she said, shaking her head.

“Well, that’s because they’re probably intimidated by you. I mean, you are pretty intimidating.”

“That’s because I’m so badass,” Corrie said, puffing up her chest and pursing her lips.

“That . . . and for other reasons.” Ford’s gaze zeroed in on hers. Was he . . . was he flirting with her?

Warm fuzzies spread across her skin and radiated through her body.

“I take it you’ve been asked out?” she asked.

“Numerous times.”

Of course he had.

“And what did you do about it? Have you ever . . . ?”

“God no,” he said, leaning back. “I mean, I know they’re adults and all, but it’s pretty fucked up when teachers take advantage of that power dynamic over students.”

“I thought you said they were former students?” Not that it made a difference to Corrie—even though they were teaching graduate-level courses, students were off-limits.

“They were, but it doesn’t change the fact that I don’t think about students that way, former or otherwise.”

Corrie was relieved to hear she and Ford shared the same stance on student-teacher relationships.

“What I don’t understand, however, is what they even want to get out of it after the fact,” he continued.

Corrie laughed and rolled her eyes. “Oh, Ford, please don’t tell me you’re that naive.”

“What do you mean?”

“The only thing they want out of it is to get you in the sack. They’re hot for teacher.”

He cocked his head and tossed her an unsure look. “Um, I don’t think so.”

“Oh, I think so. Don’t act surprised.”

“Well, now I’m confused.”

“Confused?”

“I don’t understand how is it that I’ve been asked out but you haven’t.”

“Perhaps my students aren’t as shameless as yours,” Corrie joked. “Or maybe you’re one of those maniacal professors who waves their arms around like this,” Corrie said, flapping her arms in the air, “and your sex pheromones go wafting through the air, drugging all your students.”

Ford burst out laughing. “Yes, because, as you know, maniacal, frantic arm movements are my signature.”