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  “So everyone has worked together too?”

  “When we can. Our last dig together was about four months ago; we were working outside of Baltimore where they’d proposed extending the light rail system. It was a similar circumstance to this: get it done fast, turn in your report, and call it a day.”

  “Seems as frustrating as living with my step-father.”

  “No doubt.” He smiled at her. “I can pick you up tomorrow and drive you to the site. I’m coming from this direction, anyway.”

  “That sounds good!” No it didn’t. “I am notoriously bad at directions. Even with a GPS system in my car, I still would need printed directions and a walkthrough on google maps. And I’m still sure I’d get lost.”

  “Good things are going to happen with this dig. I just know it.” He looked so hopeful, so excited, that for a brief moment he lost his creeper aura and instead looked like the excited, young archeologist she desperately wanted to emulate. At that moment, his eyes dropped to her breasts and then back up to her face. She inwardly groaned. Feeling passed.

  “What time do I need to be ready?”

  “I’m aiming to get there by 8am. So, be ready to go at 7:30. It won’t take us the full half an hour to get out to the farm, but I’m doing my best not to be late.” He smiled again, running his hands through his hair in a mirror image of his earlier movement. “I’ll bring donuts.”

  “You’ve got a deal.”

  “I know we weren’t your first choice, but trust me. We’re thrilled to have you.” For a brief moment, there was a crack in his bravado. He almost looked sheepish; almost, but not nearly enough for her to let down her guard.

  “It’s going to be epic.” Epic seemed a safe enough description for whatever it was she was in store for. Brad Emerson seemed perpetually two steps away from a restraining order. It was either going to be an epic disaster or epically awesome.

  And either way, it was far better than sitting at home being shunned by her step-father.

  Win.

  Chapter Six

  He pulled into the hotel lot at 7:30am on the dot, so precise, in fact, that she wondered if he waited at a parking meter down the street and then just rolled up to her room on time to impress her. She wasn’t impressed. Not completely.

  Swinging her bag over her shoulder, she pushed her sunglasses back into her hair and headed out to his oversized pickup truck. “Good morning.”

  “Hey.” He cocked his head to the backseat. “Put your bag back there and help yourself to a donut. Get your pick now before Liam and Mike decimate them at the site.”

  She climbed up into the passenger’s seat as if she were climbing Mt. Everest and tossed her bag in the back. The bakery box was nestled in between her seat and Brad’s. She lifted the lid back to reveal oversized golden donuts topped with a thick layer of chocolate frosting. “These look phenomenal.”

  “They taste even better. I could care less what everyone likes in their donut selection. These are the best you’ll ever have.”

  She plucked a donut from the box and gingerly took a bite, trying her best not to get the frosting all over her face. She had a feeling it was a futile attempt, but the potential mess was worth it. The flaky donut melted in her mouth, the chocolate frosting mixing with a delicate, whipped vanilla cream overflowing from the center. It was heaven in pastry form. “Oh my God.”

  He laughed. “I told you. I had to drive forty-five minutes out of my way to get them, but they’re worth it. It’s this little, tiny hole in the wall shop named DeLuca’s. Anytime I’m working a dig even remotely close to there, I stop.”

  “I can see why. Taste why?” She shrugged. “I hope you won’t think me piggish if I insist on having two.”

  “Help yourself! You’ll need the sugar rush to keep you awake. The heavy equipment won’t get to the site until 9:30. We’re going to have a lot of down time before we even get started.”

  “Time to form your game plan.”

  “Something like that.” He eased the pickup around a sharp turn and onto a road through a residential area. “We’ve been given pretty specific instructions on very specific places we’re allowed to dig and not allowed to dig.”

  “The park service frowns on relic hunting; even at Ft. Pitt in Pittsburgh we had signs hanging up prohibiting it.” She paused, the corners of her mouth twitching up into a smile at the thought of previous summers working at the pre-Revolutionary War block house. “And since the fort is located in the middle of a major metropolitan area, I’m sure relics are few and far between. But, you know. Just in case.”

  “You have no idea. I had to sign and initial paperwork promising we’d stick to our allotted area and not trip and fall onto the battlefield and accidentally pull out a shovel full of dirt.”

  Madison glanced out the window. “Isn’t the battlefield like, three miles from the site? I’d think the difference in area would be somewhat noticeable.”

  “You’d think. But as you said, you know. Just in case.”

  The silence between them as they ate their donuts was surprisingly comfortable. She had no idea where they were at and somewhere, in the back of her mind, was the nagging concern he was dragging her off into seclusion to kill her. Surely not. If he was that kind of creeper, Dr. Emerson would have had some kind of inkling and, in turn, concern for her safety, right? The donuts couldn’t really be a ploy…right?

  It would have been a good ploy. Death trap donuts.

  He slowed the truck down and carefully turned onto a gravel road. It was transected by a wooden fence. Tacked to the leftmost side was a large white sign with red letters. Area Closed: National Park Service Battlefield Reclamation Program. Authorized Personnel Only.

  Nice.

  The gravel gradually gave way to a simple dirt road leading up to an enormous red barn. The structure was flanked by a vinyl sided farmhouse and small stone structure, most likely a summer kitchen. The surrounding fields were overgrown with thick grass and patches of wild wheat—obviously the main focus of “reclamation” was on the buildings and, maybe, the archeological dig.

  Vague panic welled up in her chest. Was anyone else actually there? Was it just going to be the two of them, awkwardly sitting around until a heavy equipment operator strolled to the site to dig the pits? Shit, she couldn’t think of anything worse. Fifteen minutes in the car with him and she was already out of things to say.

  Cars! Thank God, two cars were parked across from the barn, tucked back against the wooden fence and blocking a blue port-a-john. Great…outdoor toilets.

  “Fuckers beat me here.” He parked the pickup next to a white Jeep Wrangler. “They’re just in it for the donuts.”

  Madison felt like she’d swallowed a sparrow. Her nerves had been reasonably calm prior to that point, but the prospect of meeting the rest of the crew launched her heartrate into over drive. She retrieved her bag and slid out of the pickup, following Brad toward the barn. The structure was fire engine red, which seemed blindingly out of place.

  Two men strolled around the summer kitchen, the taller of the two waving his arms at Brad. “Did you get the donuts, man?”

  Brad motioned at him with the bakery box. “It’s the only reason you showed up, isn’t it?”

  “You don’t pay shit. There’s got to be some kind of perk to getting up at six am and then sitting in the sun, doing nothing.”

  “Mike, you were in the Army. It used to be your job to get up at six am to sit in the sun and do nothing.” Brad handed the box to them. “Madison, this is half our crew. Probably the less desirable half: Mike Caldwell and Liam Stanish.”

  She let her gaze linger on Mike longer than she should have. He was tall and toned, his jeans and olive t-shirt ably accentuating his frame and muscular shoulders. Obviously former military, his hair was cropped close in a modified, “high and tight”. His eyes were brown bordering on black; they locked on hers almost instantaneously. “Hey.”

  Hey. It was a disappointing start. “Hello.”

 
; The shorter man, Liam, snatched a donut from the box. He adjusted his weight from one foot to the other, regarding her with noticeable criticism. “Aren’t you cute?”

  “I do my best.” She shrugged, taken aback. Liam was short and compact, the length of his plaid button-down shirt making him look strangely long waisted. He looked young—probably roughly the same age as Mike—but had a deeply receding hairline. “I like to think I can rock a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt like no one else.”

  “Stop hitting on the new girl, Liam.” Brad was smiling, but his tone was less than jovial. The closer she studied him, though, the smile was more of a grimace.

  “I don’t do girls.”

  “We know.” Brad handed the box to Mike and started back to the truck. “Did you two start plotting out the pits? The excavator will be here in two hours, give or take.”

  “Nothing like pinpoint accuracy.” Mike flipped back the lid of the bakery box and motioned to Madison. “Want one?”

  “No thanks, I’ve already had one.” Madison quickly ran her hand across her mouth. She felt like she had chocolate frosting all over her face. Shit, maybe she did have chocolate frosting all over her face. That would explain Liam’s quizzical stare.

  Liam spoke up as he helped himself to a pastry. “You could stand to eat another one, Slim. We all have to throw our weight equally around here and you are…how do I say it? At a severe disadvantage.”

  “I’m 120 pounds of coiled steel.” Madison snagged another donut from the box. “But I’ll see your challenge and accept it.”

  “That’s a girl.”

  “Mike, where’s Cianna?” Brad slammed the driver’s side door shut. “She knew what time she had to be here, right?”

  Mike shrugged his shoulders, a movement Madison found to be way more distracting than it should have been. “You know Cianna. She’s late.”

  “Call her.”

  “I’m not calling her.” Mike glanced at her and then cocked his head toward Liam. “You call her.”

  “Hell no, I don’t like talking to her in person. Why would I want to call her?” Liam rolled his eyes toward Madison and, with great effort, sighed. “You’ll love Cianna. She’s all grace and charm and sophistication.”

  “So, you’re saying she’s a bitch.”

  “I like you.” Liam elbowed Mike in the side. “You’re sassy.”

  “Liam. Call her.” Brad took the box back from Mike and handed him a plastic bag. “Save her a donut, guys, Jesus Christ. Look, I’ve got to run to the park service headquarters. There’s some kind of issue with the excavator. Plot out the sites for the test pits. You remember where they’re going?”

  “I have it written down.”

  “Try and have it done by the time I get back.” He ran his hand through his hair and glanced at Madison. “Do you want to come? I can use the company.”

  She hesitated. “I think I’ll stay here and start pulling my weight, so to speak. Thank you, though.”

  He looked crestfallen. Shoving his sunglasses on, he turned from the group and headed toward the truck. “Try not to destroy anything while I’m gone.”

  “One time, man, one time!” Mike chuckled and peered into the plastic bag. “Twine and stakes, but no hammers. Typical. Good thing I brought my own. So, have you been here before?”

  “Nope.” She peered over her shoulder to the immense red barn. It was actually two floors, the larger upper area inaccessible from the back where they stood. The lower level was cut into separate storage areas and stables. A walkway ran between the two halves. From the distance she was at, the interior of the rooms were no more than open, gaping holes. Though light filtered in, there wasn’t nearly enough so she could see anything in the shapeless dark. The blackness seemed darker than it should have, almost oily. She looked away.

  “Well, allow me to give you the grand tour.” He handed her the plastic bag and yanked open the door of the Jeep, withdrawing a medium sized toolbox. He rummaged through the box and withdrew two hammers. “Welcome to the Spangler Farm, the 1863 home of George Spangler and site of the 11th Corps hospital. Confederate General Armistead may have died in the summer kitchen to your left. Either that or he died in the kitchen inside the house, we don’t really know. Union General Francis Barlow was also treated here. And fun fact, the barn is a Pennsylvania bank barn. Wounded occupied it from July first through the afternoon of the fifth.”

  “I’m guessing we’re not allowed to dig inside the barn.”

  “You’d be right.” He flexed his shoulders, the muscles in his back taut against the thin cloth of his shirt. “I’m not sure I’d want to, anyway. The lower level seems pretty sturdy, but that roof looks like it’s made of matchsticks.”

  She glanced back at the barn. The shadowy interior seemed to pulsate against the sunlight, as if it was drawing it into its inky depth. Stop it, Madison. If it’s not a guy distracting you, it’s the dark. Grow up. “The, ah, outside is pretty…vibrant.”

  “Plywood. It pulls right off. They put it over the outside until they can redo the actual timber siding.” He cocked his head toward the summer kitchen. “I left my bag in there, with our fancy schematics and log books. We only have four pits to plot out: one way to the back of the house, one way to the side of the barn, one way to the side of the summer kitchen, and one way back there by the woods. You know, close enough but not too close.”

  “Last summer I was on a dig at this historical house, Woodbridge, in Pittsburgh. We were allowed to dig just so deep in an area only over to here—not there—and damn it if we even went a millimeter too far in either direction, the curator almost had an aneurysm.” She rolled her eyes. His last name was Quimby, his body shape so spherical she was afraid if he tripped he’d bounce across the property and into the road. “Despite his attempts to keep us from actually getting work done, we pulled up some pretty cool stuff.”

  “I read your paper on it.” He said it casually, like he was reporting to her how many hammers he was holding. “That’s insane you found a clay pipe in such good condition.”

  She blushed. “Thanks.”

  Liam stormed toward them, gesturing with his cell phone. “I’m not even going to describe what that filthy bitch said to me. But she’s fully aware she’s running late. She doesn’t care.”

  “I didn’t think she would.” Mike rubbed his temples with his fingertips and groaned. “Tell me again why she signed on? Especially after last time?”

  “She thinks maybe Brad will change his mind.” Liam rolled his eyes, fluttering his eyelashes dramatically. “You see, Sassy, Cianna Simon is obsessed with our fearless leader, Bradley Emerson. She likes the way he smells. She likes the way he walks and brushes his hair back from his face. We know this because she’s told us this. She wants to hump him. He’s not interested in her, which is surprising because Brad usually is interested in anyone of the female gender.”

  Mike chimed in. “We did this dig down in Baltimore not too long ago, just a quick survey at a historic structure. I got poison sumac. She hooked up with Brad and got rejected afterward. Harshly rejected.”

  “It was awkward. The look on her face, God, you’d think he’d just stomped on a kitten or something. I still don’t know what she was thinking, he’s her God damned boss. Maybe it’s because she has herpes.”

  Madison nearly choked.

  “You don’t know she has herpes.” Mike reached over to take the plastic bag from her. As he did, his fingertips brushed across her knuckles. She flushed, her pulse racing in her temples.

  Madison. Get. A. Grip.

  His eyes lingered on hers for a beat, but then he quickly looked away. “Okay, look, Brad’s going to punch one of us if we don’t have at least one pit roped off. Liam, you measure. Madison can tie the twine between the stakes. I’ll do the hammering because…someone has to do it.”

  “And when Cianna gets here, she’ll wait in the car until Brad gets back.” Liam rolled his eyes. “Come on, Sassy, count them out. What are the dimensions su
pposed to be? I’ll be honest. I didn’t listen to a word he said this morning. Last week. Whatever. ”

  “Four by four, but they have to start five feet away from the side of the buildings. The one by the woods can be wherever.” Mike stood against the outer wall of the summer kitchen and offhandedly gestured to the open lawn beside it. “So, I don’t know. About there?”

  Madison exchanged a glance with Liam. “That’s a pretty precise measurement.”

  “Oh, for Christ sake.” Liam handed Mike the end of the tape measure and stormed across the lawn. He turned back. “Five feet, prick.”

  Mike ignored him, instead picking up a notebook with his free hand. “Brad wasn’t really specific where he wanted the pit positioned. So…your guess is as good as mine.”

  “I’d put it there.” Madison gestured toward the open area across from the summer kitchen’s door. “It’s logical to assume if they tossed anything out that door, they’d have tossed in that direction. If they’d tossed it the other way, it would have landed on the path and they’d have to walk through it.”

  “Oh, Sassy!” Liam clicked his tongue. “She out nerded you there, Mikey.”

  Mike smiled at her, two deep dimples punctuating his cheeks. “That’s okay by me.”

  She watched him cross the lawn to where she’d indicated and lean down, hammering the first stake into the dirt. His biceps were intense, not the overwhelming size of a man who worked out to be buff, but the well-toned upper arms of a man who wanted to stay in shape. And she liked his shape.

  He straightened and stepped backwards, surveying the stake placement. “Looks good to me.”

  “It’s crooked.” Liam handed him the end of the tape measure and strolled off in the opposite direction.

  “I wasn’t looking for a critique.”

  Madison secured the end of the twine to the stake and followed Liam the requisite four feet. As Mike hammered in the next stake, Liam huffed and jammed his balled up first to his hip. “Jesus Christ, she’s here already.”