“Ha ha.” He chuckled. “Remember, my Bronco never forgives—”
“Or forgets who insults his manhood,” she finished on a smirk. “But size doesn’t matter.”
“Bull. Only the dudes with tiny peckers say shit like that,” he quipped. “And you already said size does matter, regarding ancient pottery, I believe—which exceeded your expectations, if I recall.”
She giggled—dammit, giggled again, for crying out loud—and examined the quality embellishments inside the cab, including the marble-patterned band across the dash, the auto everything, the phone plugged into its port. She fingered the phone, tapping the screen to see what song he was playing. Zac Brown Band.
“Okay, I can dig it. Certainly not as bad as some of the country poisoning the radio waves,” she said.
“Yeah, the port’s a few years old. I gotta shimmy this thing just right to get the connection to hold.”
“Nah, you haven’t seen anything old. I just got rid of my old Honda a few months ago. It still had a tape deck. Talk about old school. Who’s the cool one now?”
He laughed. “Okay, you got me. Old school. Seriously, a tape deck?”
She shrugged off the teasing, continuing as if she was selling expensive diamonds. “And it no longer worked. Top that. This research gig only pays for top quality.”
He laughed again, then popped the top of his tea and put the truck in gear, circling the fire ring while her students dispersed to their trailers to bask in their window ACs.
“‘…I got everything I need and nothing that I don’t…’” Toby sang the lyrics under his breath.
His rich baritone voice ran like honey over her eardrums. No doubt he didn’t just dance up the chicks, he sang them up, too.
“So what did you want to show me?”
He grinned sidelong at her. “It’s a surprise.”
Her pulse jumped again. A surprise? How would he know what would surprise her? His grin widened, and he tossed her a knowing look, as if he could hear the confusion rattling like tin cans around her head.
“That’s right, Doctor R. I’ve learned the way to your heart.”
“Duh. Through my stomach, like any self-respecting woman. Because I love me some fajitas.”
He shook his head. “Naw, even better.”
“Well, there’s not much better than food and sex, so…”
She cringed, pinched shut her eyes at the ridiculous remark passing over her mouth. Smooth, Rosalinda. You’re not just joking around with a friend. This guy is into you.
“Hmm,” he reached over and picked up her hand in his as she swilled her tea, playing it cool, even though warmth was quickly spreading through her at the gentleness and ease of his touch—as if they’d held hands companionably plenty of times. “I hadn’t planned on sex, but I suppose we can make some rearrangements, if it’ll impress you.”
“Ah, you said surprise. Not impress,” she joked back. “A surprise doesn’t always impress.”
He laughed, then squeezed her hand as they rode across the flatland to the main house with the plateaued mountain in the distance. “Baby, my surprise will do the trick.”
She shook her head. “I suppose I walked into that one.”
He laughed again but squeezed her hand once more. “Seriously. I think it’ll be, what did you say—ah yeah, orgasmic.”
Egad, had she really said that in his shower yesterday? She had, and it had stuck with him. Of course it had. Any warm-blooded man would never forget a naked woman he liked saying his shower was orgasmic. They arrived at his house, and after she stacked the bag of artifacts on the table, entered the twelve identifier numbers into her laptop database, and filed the bags in one of the boxes, she took a final swallow of her tea. It was tepid by now. She set it aside and wrote down a checklist. She still needed to photograph each item against a scale, but she’d do that tonight while the rest of the crew watched the film.
“You almost done?” he asked.
She glanced at the back door from the kitchen. Toby was waiting there, still in his tight, navy-blue T-shirt, his hat in hand.
“Come on. You’re gonna love it.”
She looked toward his office, then the back door, perplexed. “I thought we were going to discuss some research.”