Raiders of the Lost Heart(7)
The lights strung high in the trees’ vines were already turned on as the rest of the team sat around waiting for dinner. Just in time. Even with all its creatures and mysteries, the middle of the jungle wasn’t so bad with home-cooked meals every night. If anything, Agnes’s cooking might help tip Corrie in favor of staying.
“All right, this is it. Home sweet home,” Ford said, putting the Jeep in park and shutting off the engine.
“Where’s the site?” Corrie asked, taking in their surroundings.
“We’ve gotta hike in. It’s about a mile from here,” Ethan responded.
Her eyes flickered for a moment, as if realizing the additional demands placed on the participants in this expedition. Not wanting to wait until morning to clarify that it got even worse, Ford added, “The terrain is treacherous. Uneven and hilly. Virtually impossible to get a vehicle through. And when it rains, which happens almost daily this time of year . . . well, it’s a mess.”
Ford didn’t particularly enjoy tramping through the mud and muck on a daily basis. Was it really so bad that he missed hot showers and dirt-free living quarters?
“I’ve been on digs, you know,” she sassed. “Besides, isn’t getting dirty part of the fun?”
Her rhetorical question ended with a flourish and a hint of suggestion, piquing his interest and sending a healthy surge of blood to his core. Well, when you put it that way . . .
“Let’s introduce you to the gang and then have some dinner,” Ethan said, snapping Ford out of his dirty thoughts.
“What about my things?”
“They’ll be fine in the Jeep for now. We’ll grab them later,” Ford said, climbing out and offering Corrie a hand.
But one sneer at his hand and she jumped out without assistance. Sigh. Yep, it was going to be like that.
“And here I thought you two went into town to go drinking without me.” Lance, Mr. Vautour’s personal associate, emerged from the outskirts of camp, turning Ford’s attention away from Corrie.
Ford smiled. “And ditch the third amigo?” They slapped their hands together in a solid handshake. Lance might have been there to make sure everything was going according to plan, but they’d formed a sort of friendship over the last few months, despite the fact that he preferred scotch over rye.
“Who do we have here? A new recruit?” Lance asked, looking past Ford and eyeing Corrie curiously.
Shit. Ford hadn’t really thought this through. The last thing he needed was for Lance to report back to the investor that they were stuck and that they’d sent for reinforcements. Especially when those reinforcements happened to have been the investor’s first choice for this expedition.
“Uh, Lance, I want to introduce you to Dr. Socorro Mejía, our old college buddy.”
Corrie’s brow quirked up as both she and Ethan shot suspicious looks over at Ford.
“She’s here, uh, for research,” Ford said, ignoring their glances. “Dr. Mejía, this is Lance. He works for the investor.”
Her head raised an inch, as if understanding the awkwardness behind the introduction. “It’s nice to meet you,” she said, shaking his hand.
“Likewise. How nice that the three of you have maintained your friendship after college.”
“Oh yes. Ford, Ethan, and I were the best of friends in grad school. We had so much fun together, didn’t we, Ford?” she asked, playfully punching him in the arm with a little too much oomph.
“Mm-hmm,” he murmured, fighting the urge to massage the sting in his bicep.
“Will you be staying long?” Lance asked.
“Not sure. We haven’t really talked about it. This was somewhat of a surprise trip,” Corrie responded.
What was she up to?
“A surprise trip to Mexico? You archaeologists sure do live fascinating lives.”
“Totally. I mean, it was super easy for me to drop everything to come down here, and I just had to see what Ford and Ethan were up to. Plus, I missed them so much,” she said, laying it on thick. Too thick.
Fortunately, not being familiar with Corrie’s sense of . . . humor, Lance didn’t seem to catch on.
“Well, I’m taking a few pictures before dinner,” he said, holding up the camera that always accompanied him, “but hopefully we’ll get a chance to talk more later.”
They waited a few moments, ensuring Lance was far enough away, before Corrie turned to Ford. “？‘Old college buddies,’ eh?”
“Look, it’s complicated.”
Corrie burst out with a laugh. “Are you talking about the dig or is that our relationship status?”
Ford tensed. That was one way to put it. But hearing her refer to anything they had as a relationship—whether good or bad—sent a funny feeling roaring through his stomach.
“Come on,” he said, choosing to ignore the bait.
They walked over to the camp, stopping to say hello to various people along the way as they meandered through the trees. Sundays were off days, so most of the crew were relatively clean and showered. At least Corrie wouldn’t be bombarded with the typical aromas of dirt, sweat, and BO that usually lingered in camp. Most of the crew were men, and with only two other women in camp—Sunny, Ford’s sweet but annoyingly perky intern, and Agnes, the sixty-two-year-old chef—the camp often felt more like a fraternity than a top-secret archaeological dig. Agnes chastised the men on a daily basis for their disgusting habits. Sunny, on the other hand, didn’t complain about anything. Not the smells, or the muddy treks to the dig site, or having to share a tent with Agnes—purely their choice, not that he could blame them. Heck, Ford thanked his lucky stars that he had his own tent every single night.