Her Dirty Archeologists by Mika Lane

2

FLEUR HOLMES

“I don’t know why you put up with it,” Soleil said, as we picked through the sale rack at Nordstrom.

I held a beige blouse up to my face, but Soleil wrinkled her nose. “That’s… not your color.”

I stuffed it back on the rack. She was right. It was a bad shade of beige, and it also screamed ‘safari girl.’

“Soleil, I have to put up with it crap from guys like Rob. I can’t get into a fight with another student, especially one who has seniority over me. You don’t understand how oppressive academic life is. People are just waiting for you to trip up. Take one wrong step, and they blackball you so you never get a teaching position or trash your research so you never get published. It’s insane.”

Soleil nodded sympathetically, but it was clear she really had no idea what I was talking about. Life as a yoga instructor was pretty much all peace, love, and understanding.

But she did look at me with her ‘and you’re doing thiswhy?’ look.

I ignored her.

“C’mon. Let’s go to Victoria’s Secret. I need some new underwear. And bras.”

Soleil shrugged. “Okay, then. Let’s go.”

An hour later, loaded down with bags of lacy panties, sheer thongs, and other necessities, we passed my favorite shoe store.

“Oh. My. God,” I said.

Soleil’s eyes widened when she realized what I’d zeroed in on. “Fleur, are you sure those would work for your trip?”

She looked doubtful.

But I was certain.

In front of us in the window, were a pair of ankle boots with a wedge heel.

I headed for the door. “Those babies were made for me. C’mon.”

Practical and stylish.

Soleil hung back, which was a waste of energy. She knew that once I got an idea in my head, there was no talking me out of it.

“I don’t know, Fleur,” she said. “Are you sure you can wear wedges in the desert? They don’t seem very… sturdy.”

I shot a look at my sister while I pulled out my credit card. “Soleil. Have you ever been to the desert?”

She screwed up her face as she thought. “Well, no. But I’ve seen pictures of the desert, you know, in movies and stuff—”

“Mmmm hmmm. Just as I thought. You know not of what you speak.”

With that, she shut her mouth and helped me with my bags.

“Hey. Sorry for snapping,” I said once we were out of the store.

I was still buzzing from my purchase. The boots were going to be perfect.

I’d been on several ‘local digs,’ where I only had to drive a few hours from the university. But this one, on the other side of the world in the middle of nowhere, was a different story. I was going to be prepared for anything.

“It’s all good. You’re the one who’s going, not me,” she said in a tired voice.

I grabbed her hand. “Let’s get a snack. My treat. I have some time before my mani-pedi.”

Five minutes later, we were sipping mall milkshakes under the domed ceiling of a food court that smelled like greasy french fries.

I loved this shit.

“So, what did you tell that guy you were dating, you know, about leaving?” Soleil asked. “Is he cool with your being gone for a month or longer?”

Ugh. That asshole.

“Oh. Pete. Well, he told me he was going to break things off anyway. Can you believe it?”

To be honest, my thing with Pete wasn’t much more than a series of booty calls anyway. No great loss on my part, but of course he had to take the opportunity to tell me he needed to find someone to seriously date since he was finishing up law school. He needed a woman who would make him look good at interviews, and then later at firm functions.

Of course, I told him to go fuck himself, and that I’d be in the desert for a month with the handsome and famous archeologist Drake Bancroft.

And what did he do? He laughed.

“You, Fleur? In the desert? For a month?”

I heard him laughing until he was out of sight.

Things like that happened to me often. Always had. And it made me mad.

People—mainly men—doubted me. They thought I couldn’t possibly be smart enough to be in a PhD program. That I couldn’t possibly be smart enough to have published research. That I couldn’t possibly be smart enough to have been chosen to go on one of the most important archeological explorations in twenty-five years.

And I had all kinds of plans to prove them wrong.

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