Look What the Wind Blew In by Ann Charles Page A

with her fork halfway to her mouth. “Amazing. He chose you over food. It must be true love.”
    “I think we may be related.” Quint fanned his shirt, glancing at the closed window flaps and then her desk before returning to her. “I have a first cousin who looks remarkably like him, snout and all.”
    She laughed and then stuffed some dried mango into her mouth. For several moments, he played with Rover while she chewed. The lack of tension in the air was a nice change. Lately, her meals had come with a side of anxious whispers about that damned curse. Heartburn was served for dessert.
    “Did Fernando find you earlier?” Quint asked.
    She shook her head, wondering why her foreman had been looking for her.
    “You haven’t heard about Alonso, then?”
    She swallowed. “What about him?”
    “A pulley line snapped and a rock landed on his leg.”
    “What?” She pushed aside the last bits of supper, her hunger suddenly replaced with a clenching ache. “How is he? Is his leg broken?”
    “Teodoro says it’s just a deep bruise. His calf muscle took the brunt of the blow.”
    Damn it! She could imagine how fast this news had spread throughout the camp. She dropped her plate onto the floor for Rover, rising to her feet. Was everyone still in the mess tent? Maybe she should go address this newest incident, try to talk sense into the most vocal of her crew before they started scaring some of the newer hires away.
    “Your dad and Jared checked out the pulley line.” Rover left Quint’s side and tore into her food. He watched the javelina for a second or two and then frowned at her. “Juan said it looked like it had frayed and snapped, but he mentioned that a small cut might have started the process.”
    A cut? Something done on purpose? To what end? To shut down the dig site? Ruin her father’s career? Hers?
    She leaned against her desk, the weight of possibilities heavy. She needed to talk to her father about this, somewhere away from the others. Maybe in one of the temples. “Thanks for bringing me supper, Quint, but—”
    “Teodoro thinks it’s the curse.”
    She groaned.
    “Your ex-husband overheard Teodoro and your dad talking about it and insisted on learning all about your curse problem. He appeared to find it all quite interesting and even jotted down some notes, which didn’t seem to settle well with your father.”
    She rattled off a long string of very unladylike swearwords.
    Quint raised his eyebrows. “Did you work in the steel mill during your summers at college?”
    “One of my professors liked to hire ex-cons to help with field work. A cheap but motivated labor force. They taught me a thing or two.”
    “Apparently. I think my ears are smoking.”
    “Sorry about that.”
    “Don’t be. I like how you worked ‘Dr. Pompous Bungweed’ into it all. You think your ex would consider changing his name?”
    That earned him a thin smile in spite of the shit storm flying around her. “How much did my father spill about the curse in front of Jared?”
    “As little as he could.”
    Something on Quint’s face told her there was an unspoken but in there. “But still enough to potentially hang him if Jared feels like using it against him?” she finished for him.
    “Unfortunately.”
    Angélica dropped back into the chair. Excellent. Just fucking terrific. She closed her eyes and covered her face with her hands.
    “What do you think about all of this curse business?” She cringed in anticipation of his response but needed to hear from someone on the outside. “Do we look like a bunch of superstitious, wild-eyed natives who’ve been worshiping the sun too much?”
    “I prefer the moon—it’s too damned hot down here to praise the sun.”
    “I’m serious, Parker.”
    “Okay. In all seriousness, when it comes to the curse and your crew, I think you’re trying to herd marbles uphill.”
    She peeked out at him between her palms. “You’ve noticed, huh?”
    “Hard to miss. I’ve also