“Thanks for coming to get me.”
“Part of the job,” I replied, keeping my hands in my raincoat pockets which ensured the front was hiding my crotch. The light in his eyes dimmed a bit.
“Sure, yeah, of course.” He hustled around, grabbing worn hiking boots, then thankfully pulled his shirt down over his head. A plain white tee with some sort of worn out logo for a walkathon to benefit the Pacific Life Association. “I’m stoked to have some help. We’ll head out as soon as the rain blows over.”
“They have an old Chevy van,” I tossed out as he bounced around on one foot while trying to tug a boot on the other. A small log in the fireplace snapped and spit. The heat felt good with the cold rain running down my neck. The warm air was thick with that coconut scent of his.
“Right, that’s Veers. Okay, let me grab a hat and we’re off.” He yanked a Dodgers cap from the back of the couch, pulled on his other boot, rooted around for his rucksack, drank the rest of his tea, and then slid his arms into a well-weathered yellow slicker. He looked adorable. Kailey had had one just like it, smaller of course, that she loved to wear with her yellow rain boots. Devon and I would take her out to the park after a downpour and—“Nate, are you okay?” I snapped back to the present with a jolt. Blinking at the man in the safflower rain slicker, I nodded with a vigor that I didn’t feel. “You zoned out a little there.”
“Lack of sleep. Let’s go.” I spun from Bishop, ears burning with shame, gut churning up my coffee, and barreled out the door. Thunder boomed. A second later the sky lit up. I glanced skyward and reveled in the cold rain hitting my face. If only the deluge could wash the memories away…
Once we were in my truck the silence grew until it was nearly painful.
“Does this happen often?”
I glanced to the right. Bishop was looking out at the storm, his nose and cheeks damp from our sprint to the pickup.
“Sure, we can get some bad weather. Cold front meets warm front, vice versa.” I turned the key, the engine rolled over and the stereo came on. “Spring storms can be real bitches.”
He chanced a peek my way, his teeth working his lower lip. “Actually, I was referring to the momentary look of panic on your face when you saw my raincoat.”
“Oh.” Fuck. The man was too astute. “Just a memory.”
I stared straight ahead, the high beams slicing through the steady rain. A man had to pay attention to the road out here. God only knows when a moose will step out in front of you and—his hand came to rest on my right thigh. My sight flew from the sloppy dirt road to his fingers on my leg then to his face. I’d never seen a more earnest, beautiful sight.
“I know we don’t know each other well, but if you ever want someone to talk to, I’m a good listener as well as an excellent talker.”
Just like that his hand left my thigh. I nodded once, lips firmly pressed, in case some part of me, way down deep, decided that talking about Kailey with Bishop was a good idea.
He turned up Gordon and hummed along to “Carefree Highway” which was one of the most important songs of my life. God only knows how many times the lyrics had made me weep yet I played it over and over, rolling in the poignancy of the song like a dog finding a gut pile.
Bishop chatted amiably as we made our way back to my cabin. I grunted and bobbed my head when there was a lull. When we parked outside my home he had to be as relieved as I was to know the awkward ride was over. His students greeted him warmly. He dropped down on the sofa between Paula and Veer, and they instantly started talking about bones, claws, frills, and other dino related gossip. I slipped into the kitchen, pulled out my largest frying pan, a dozen eggs, and a jar of bacon bits. As they caught up, I cooked. I needed the distance to settle myself. Damn memories. They crept up on a man from behind like a mugger.
When the eggs were ready, I plated and delivered them. The kids dove into the simple fare as if starved. Bishop thanked me softly, his gaze touching me in ways that made me acutely aware of him and his warm coconut scent. I lingered in the kitchen, eating at the island, reading a book as I let the now unfamiliar sound of laughter seep into my soul. It had been ages since my home had people in it. I’d not realized just how much I missed that human touch.
“That hit the spot,” Bishop announced as he entered the kitchen with a stack of plates. I closed my book, a boring literary fiction about some Canadian returning home to find himself, and looked up at the professor. “I read that, or tried, last year. What do you think about it?”
“It’s pretentious and stuffed with so much profound insight into the human condition that I want to chuck it out the window.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, that was my feeling as well.” I went to stand but he waved me off. “Sit, finish your coffee. I can stack these in the dishwasher as thanks for a great meal. It was really kind of you.”
“Part of the job,” I tossed out as blithely as I could. His jaw tightened. I got up and joined him by the sink, rinsing out my mug.
“You do that a lot,” he mumbled as I passed my cup to him. I glanced up from the mug to him, questioningly. His gaze grabbed mine and held it. “Use your job as an excuse for being gracious, or polite, or caring. I highly doubt cooking for us is part of your job. You did it because you’re a kind man who for some reason does not want others to know he has a soft spot.”
I stared at him, stunned that he had read me so clearly. As I floundered for something to say I found myself lost in the differing colors of blue in his eyes. There were flecks of deep aqua around his pupils, a blending of blues like a summer dawn.
His eyes dropped to my mouth. He moved closer. I leaned in just as his sight flickered back up to touch mine. My eyes fell to his mouth. The tip of his tongue darted out to dampen his lips, a light pink temptation between two pillows of strawberry. I had to taste his lips to see if they were as sweet as the fruit they were—
“Is there more coffee? I’ve been up since last night and my brain is fried. Oh cool! A pot!” Veer, the Middle Eastern student with the van and the buzzed head, lumbered into the kitchen. Bishop and I jumped back. I shoved my mug into the top rack and shakily moved to the coffee pot to refill Veer’s mug. “Prof, you need to come settle this debate once and for all.”
Bishop ran a hand over his face, chuckling as he turned from me to face his student. “Are we hashing out the theory of there being living microbes inside an eighty million-year-old Brachylophosaurus again?”
“Yes! Try telling Paula that it’s impossible for collagen to survive that long unless the specimen was preserved in an exceptionally cold environ.” And with that announcement, Veer latched onto Bishop and hauled him back to the living room. The professor gave me one long over the shoulder look before he dove into the conversation.
I flung myself at the sink, cranked on the taps, and threw some cold water on my face. Pity I couldn’t soak my balls in the icy cold water. As the storm moved off, the excited group in the living room were talking about tents and cooking supplies. Seemed they were planning to sleep out by the dig site. I made a mental note to ride out in the evenings to check on them. Despite what Bishop seemed to think, keeping the guests here safe was a part of my job. It wasn’t like I was going to go out there daily just to see Bishop the man I had almost kissed over a dirty coffee mug. Shit. I had no clue what to do with this attraction that was brewing between us.
The rain stopped around seven. I stood on my wet steps, my head a cauldron of confusion, and watched the dino gang head off into the fog that was laying low along the land. After letting the chickens out, I headed right to the horse barn, meeting up with Kyle who was chucking hay bales down to the hands with such force he knocked David Little Shield right off his feet.