Chapter Eight
Toby delivered Kelsey back to camp. A couple other students were awake now and roving out to the cold fire ring to get the camping stove and coffee percolator set up. They glanced up at the sight of him and Kelsey curiously.
“Thank you so much for helping me, Mister. Dixon,” she gushed, placing her hand on his forearm.
Damn. He needed some distance. He’d seen an unreadable look in Rose’s eyes as Kelsey had fawned on him, and it had made a bout of discomfort brew in his stomach, and…was that a bad taste in his mouth? Not a cloying mouthful of cucumber-mint body spray from the walking department store counter beside him? It sure as hell was, and his mind froze at the realization. That’s a first. He’d never been put off by a cute come-on in his life. A year ago or longer, it would have been just another boost to his male ego. But Kelsey had intruded upon his date with Dr. R. He’d been glad she’d given him an excuse to see her from their midst. He had questions for Rose, so many questions, and asking them would have been awkward in front of Kelsey when none of them had anything to do with the panther shaman site. He’d wanted a moment alone with Rose when he wasn’t a hungover wreck who’d led a team of strangers over the threshold of his grief—his dead mother’s urn—fresh from the funeral home.
He backed up just out of reach, giving his signature smile and head nod. “Yup. My pleasure.”
“What’s going on?” another student asked.
Howard peered through his window, smirking, but stayed inside. Good.
“There was this huge spider,” Kelsey began and gestured as if it had been the size of a Thanksgiving platter.
“A tarantula,” Toby clarified. “They’re all over these parts. But Doctor. R’s waiting for me down the trail, so I’d best get back,” he added, swiveling around to land his stride.
“You and Doctor. R.?” the young man he was sure Rose had called Hunter said, as if the idea of Rose alone with a man was a foreign language.
“Yeah. She’s giving me a private tour. And she’s probably starting to bake in this here sun, so I best be off. Good day, ladies.” He tapped the brim his hat. “And gents.”
He shuffled off at a jog as Kelsey regaled them with descriptions of the tarantula, hopping down the path over the rocks to make up time, anxious to have Rose to himself again.
He saw Rose partway down to the bottom, on her knees hovering over a rock, photographing it. She’s taking a picture of a freaking rock. She was so quirky, and he was starting to really dig it.
“Hey, you found a rock,” he called with mock surprise as he trotted down the familiar path. “Out in these here parts? Imagine that.”
She looked up and wrinkled her nose exaggeratedly. “Ha ha. Not just any rock. A fossil. See?”
He came up beside her, leaning over her back and mess of dark curls. He furrowed his brow. An indentation in the rock with rows of ribbing stared back at him. He’d seen this before. It had been a little higher up the path, but it must have tumbled down in wind, rain, or it had been kicked by an animal.
“Yeah. It used to be up there,” he said, pointing. “Don’t know what it is, though.”
“It looks like a brachiopod.”
“Brachio-what?”
“Pod. See? There’s a tiny impression of the valve where it would have hinged open. Sort of like an oyster, but different.”
“Huh.” He stood upright. “I never knew that.”
“Well, hang out with someone like me long enough and you’ll probably discover a ton of random trivia.”
“Is that a threat or a promise?”
A chuckle escaped her throat. “It’s more of a challenge.”
“Challenge accepted. Is that some sort of food the people who painted panther shaman ate?” continued Toby.
She grinned as if he’d amused her. “No. These things are hundreds of millions of years old. I’m not a paleontologist, but we come across stuff like this so often, we learn to recognize it. This one looks like some of the Permian ones I’ve seen.”
That put it in perspective. He’d touched on the geologic timescale in his plant biology classes. This region of Texas had been submerged in water hundreds of millions of years ago, though hell if he could remember which eons were which. He’d have to look it up.
Look it up?
He hadn’t looked up squat since he’d departed A&M in his poofy hat and gown. He’d started the degree because his dad had ridden his ass about it. He’d only finished it because his momma had asked him to. Truth be told, he’d enjoyed college more than he thought he would. But petulant guy that he’d once been, anything his dad had ridden his ass about would have been cause to resent it. It was only recently that he’d blown the dust off of his stack of natural history books—his own secret subject he’d once been as hard of a geek about as Rose was about archaeology—to prepare his proposal for the Junior Ranchers. Truth be told again, he’d enjoyed it. He’d forgotten the pleasure of reading about something he loved in his efforts to forget about his hardened father.
He looked at Rose, running her fingers over the impression of the brachiopod’s shell. So curious. Thoughtful. So sexy. It was hard to picture her with a kid on her hip, but he bet she was an awesome mom. He bet she sang to her kid like his mom had sung to him and his brothers, let him eat cake for breakfast on his birthday, or dressed him up like a hobbit or something for Halloween.