The cabin’s stacked with his bike gear, electronics, and boxes of presumably unfinished work. Ripley might have opened one of the boxes a crack. She could smell James in there, but the perfume of grass and ink was faint and stale, a pale remnant of a man who existed years ago and half a world away. Not her James.
HerJames. Like there’s any such thing.
“I’m sure Mindy wouldn’t mind if I moved a few of the boxes into her cabin, if they’re bothering…are you quite all right, Ripley?”
Ripley’s pressing her palm to the spot where the jealousy has now stabbed her twice. “I’m fine,” she says, dropping her hand.
“You don’t look fine. You’re working too hard. Getting too much sun. Not taking enough breaks.” James sets the sample tubes on the picnic table, his forehead falling into stern lines.
She’s a dumbass, so she lets him take her face in his strong, reassuring grip. She’s never been less smart than at this moment, when she gives in to the breathless pleasure of staring into his beautiful, concerned eyes even though she’s been thinking aboutthe words he used at the museum:want, protect, need, beautiful, safe.
Also the words he didn’t use:Care. Love.
The air between them feels hot; electricity builds like a summer storm.
A burst of laughter from the canyon seems to startle him. His fingers slide away from her jaw with a movement that would feel like a caress if she didn’t know better.
She steps back. “I’m fine, James. The boxes can stay. And if you’re worried about any feelings on my part, don’t.”
She hasn’t seen his face blanch like that in a while. Maybe her tone wasn’t as composed as she thought. “I’m only saying it doesn’t have to be weird. Let me know when you want privacy to change and…and stuff.”
James shifts his feet, his pallor warming with a faint trace of pink.
“Not that stuff,” she amends hastily, her face flaming. “Other stuff. Stuff that’s not…for fuck’s sake.” She presses two fingers to the space between her eyebrows.
He glances at the ground, pushing his still-wonky glasses higher on his nose. “I understand,” he says. He picks up the sample tubes and walks on. “In case I haven’t mentioned it, I appreciate you going out of your way to accommodate Mindy. She’s a dear friend and a brilliant scientist. Clever Girl couldn’t ask for a better collaborator.”
“Sure,” Ripley says, swallowing hard and trying to be grateful.“Dear friend,” my ass.
Another wave of mirth echoes up from the canyon.
Ripley should be down there, correcting the things an undergraduate—even one like Jordin—is bound to get slightlywrong. She should be asserting her role as the leader of this expedition and the discoverer of its most important find. She can’t fuck off and hide in her cabin until the urge to cry has passed.
Not least because it’s no longerhercabin.
Until today, Ripley didn’t realize how expertly James has integrated himself into the crew.
Yes, he got carried away with his lectures, and, yes, they’d had a spare cabin so there wasn’t all this drama about sleeping arrangements. But in every other way, James took stock of the culture and fit himself into it. A week after James’s arrival, Cara said, “It’s like he’s always been here.”
But Mindy’s not trying to fit in. She’s here to further her own goals. She’s currently the most senior scientist at Clever Girl, and, intentionally or not, she acts like it.
Mindy sighs at the loss of soil data from already excavated specimens. She wants to crack all the sealed field jackets for sampling. She repeatedly congratulates James on scoring the biggest abstract of the year—Will’s—for the APS.
Although Ripley has assured everyone that they’ll get overtime for working on a Saturday, the vibe is distinctly off when they arrive at the Golden Palace for dinner that evening. Cara’s gone tight-mouthed and quiet; Griff looks displeased for the first time in Ripley’s memory. Jordin can barely eat from the stress of not having gotten an A-plus.
In a cringeworthy turn of events, Finn and Fiona have both developed shattering crushes on their guest.
“More tea, Mindy?” Fiona doesn’t wait for an answer before pouring.
“Thanks, I’m—oh. Okay,” Mindy says, looking perturbed.
“I’d love to know what you’re working on right now, Mindy,” Finn says, drawing her attention back to himself.
“Would you like the last sesame ball, Mindy?” Fiona says sweetly, sending a black look at her brother.
“Hey,” Matteo protests as Fiona grabs the dish he was reaching for.
“Forbidden word,” everybody choruses, since the newest Clue rule is that the extra rules apply at all times.
