“And other types of historians.”
Quint wouldn’t exactly call himself a historian, but he did enjoy learning about history. He tried to mix it into his writing whenever he could.
Her brow pinched. “But why would Daisy have called youkimi? How would she know yournahual?”
“Maybe she’s into astrology—the Maya kind.”
“She’d have to know your date of birth, including the year. Did you ever tell her that?”
He shook his head. Not that he could remember.
“Let’s think outside the box,” he said. “If Daisy has channeled your mom, and your mom shareskimias a spirit companion with me, maybe your mom felt that connection at the last dig when she appeared to me, and then she planted thatkimiseed in Daisy’s memory.”
Both of Angélica’s brows lifted. “That’s a pretty big reach. It assumes that not only are Maya spirit animals real, but that my mom’s ghost can file information in Daisy’s subconscious for later use.”
“Considering what happened at the last dig, I’m keeping my mind open to all possibilities.” He shrugged. “Maybe your mom’scompanion spirit and mine are pals.” He smiled down at her. “If she were still around, we could’ve had killer jackets made with a badass skeleton riding a unicorn on the back.”
She guffawed. “Why a unicorn?”
“Unicorns are lucky, same as those of us withkimias a spirit companion. Don’t be jealous you only have a dog.”
“Hey.” She grabbed him by the shirt front, tugging him closer. “My dog would eat your skeleton’s bones for a snack.”
“Those sound like fightin’ words, little lady.”
He ran his finger along her jawline and then lifted her chin, turning her face to one side and the other. Her nose and forehead were lightly coated with dust. A streak of sweat-soaked dirt trailed from her temple down her cheek. A small scratch marred her chin. She’d been playing hard in the jungle today, trying to make temples out of the molehills covered in thorny bushes and sharp-edged palm fronds.
“Be careful,” she whispered. “I’m pretty scrappy.”
He chuckled. “You’re pretty dirty, too.”
She gave him a crooked smile. “I told you we had an incident.”
“I meant you’re pretty and you’re dirty.”
Her smile evened out. “You like me dirty, heartbreaker.”
He leaned closer, caught up in her flirty gaze. If he were able to look into her beautiful green eyes first thing every morning for the rest of his life, he’d be the luckiest son of a bitch with whomkimihad ever hobnobbed.
“No, Iloveyou dirty, sweetheart.”
“And don’t forget hot, too,” she said, scratching her nails down the front of his shirt.
He leaned down and kissed her. “I’m melting into fantasy land here,” he said when he pulled back. “But I’ll be honest, I’m not sure which is sexier right now—you naked as a jaybird in the shower, or just the thought of me standing under a spray of cold water without a bug in sight.”
“Me.” She went up on her toes and brushed her lips over his, leaving a trail of heat behind. “Naked.”
He wanted more of her teasing and he wanted it all over. Sweat trickled down his back. “Tell me, in this shower scene, are you holding an ice-cold drink in your hand?”
Her laugh was breathy. “Of course. Don’t I always bring cold drinks to our shower parties?”
“No, but that should be a mandatory rule from now on. We’ll clear the shampoo shelf to make room for drinks.”
“I like the way you think, Tarzan, especially when our loincloths are laying on the bathroom floor.” She wiggled her eyebrows at him. “A woman is only as old as the man she feels.”
He blinked and then laughed. “Did you just hit on me with a Groucho Marx line?”
“A slightly boggled one. Mom used to say that to Dad when they were joking around. It always made me giggle.”
