The steps into the basement were narrow and rickety, and not even I could get up and down them quietly. Storing the beer kegs down here was always a problem, because they were a pain in the ass to get up and down. But the cool, dry environment and the large flat space meant I didn’t really have much of a choice; there was no room to store them upstairs, and down here they were safe and secure, and when the weather was hot this was the next-best thing to an actual walk-in freezer.

As I got to the bottom of the steps, I heard a scratching noise from the far corner. For a minute I wondered if I’d suddenly developed a rat problem, before remembering.

No, it’s an archaeologist problem. Harder to get rid of, and people will really complain if I resort to poison.

Ryan was in the corner, on his knees, working at a section of the wall with a small trowel. He’d stripped off his shirt, and despite the cold, his vest was damp with sweat. I was about to say something, but I stopped for a minute to watch him. His broad shoulders were packed with muscle, and I found myself wondering how someone stuck in a dusty college classroom got to look like that.

A section of the brickwork of the wall abutting the floor had been removed, and the bricks neatly stacked in the middle of the basement. As I watched, Ryan worked carefully to scrape away dirt from something small and white that protruded from the earth behind the wall. His gloved hands moved from the tools and back to a small notebook, where he scribbled something in brief capital letters denoting what he’d found. Every so often, he would stop and pick up a camera to capture photographs of the process. He worked swiftly and surely, completely engrossed in what he was doing, oblivious to my presence. Eventually, the piece of what looked like bone came away from the wall, and Ryan picked up a brush to remove the last traces of dirt from it, then took several photographs. He sat back on his haunches and let out a long breath, then stretched his arms and back.

Daaamn. I took a moment to admire the lean muscles of his arms, corded and tanned; maybe he’d spent a lot of time on dusty dig sites in the sun. Ryan had a patchwork of fine scars on his upper left bicep, white cross-hatchings that looked old and faded, but deep enough when they were created to be permanent.

I coughed gently. “Hey. How’s it going down here?” Ryan looked around, and saw me, breaking into a smile. He rolled easily to his feet, stripping off his gloves and wiping his hands on a cloth, before turning around. “Hey, yourself. It’s going really well; that last one was pretty delicate, so I’m glad it’s out safely. How are you?”

“Just getting ready for the evening. Kegs are nearly out, so I need to clean the lines and put some new ones on.” I indicated a stack of metal beer-kegs in the far corner. “Don’t let me interrupt you.”

“No problem. I could use the break, to be honest.” Ryan picked up the piece of bone, bagged it, and put it into a labeled container. As he did, he watched me load two kegs on to a cart and wheel them over to the foot of the stairs.

This was the part I really didn’t like. A full beer keg weighed about a hundred and sixty pounds; I’d had to learn to get them up the stairs, or I wouldn’t have had a bar. But it took me a while, and I had to take it one step at a time, which is why I always made sure it was done before the bar was opened for the afternoon and evening.

“Hey.” As I bent over, took a deep breath, and took a firm hold of both handles, Ryan was next to me. “Can I help?”

I opened my mouth to refuse, and he saw the expression on my face. “Yeah, I know you can do it. But I’d like to help, okay?”

It’s not a big deal. It’s just a stupid keg. I’m not letting down the sisterhood by accepting help from this guy.

“Yeah, okay. Thanks.”

Ryan took hold of the keg in both hands, and hoisted it to thigh height, then climbed the stairs easily. The weight was heavy enough that his muscles strained in his vest, and I tried not to look at him too obviously as he mounted the steps and disappeared out of sight.

His voice came from the upper floor, muffled slightly. “Where do you want them?”

“Just in the alcove by the stairs, please. I can hook them up from there.”

A chuckle. “Oh yes, the alcove. I remember. No problem.” There was a low clang of the keg on the floor, and he reappeared, wiping his hands on his pants. “Just the two?”

“Yeah, thanks.” I pursed my lips. “I thought archaeologists would be, well…”

He looked down at me as he made his way down the steps. “Well, what?”

I flushed. “Well, a bit more…”

“Nerdy. The word you’re looking for, Cat, is nerdy.” He was obviously enjoying my discomfort, but the look in his eyes wasn’t unkind. “Haven’t you ever seen an Indiana Jones film?”

My laugh was genuine. “Fair point. Although you don’t have a hat or a whip.”

“No, but I do have a leather jacket, and I do hate snakes. So it’s really pretty damn close, all things considered. Besides,” Ryan indicated the bones in the corner, “I am also quite nerdy. Who else would spend three-quarters of an hour on his knees in your basement digging away at a wall?”

I looked across at them. “Fair point. So what do you think they are?”

Ryan let go of the keg, and walked over to pick up one of the bagged samples. Bringing it back to where I stood, he held it up for me to inspect. “To answer your question, I’m not sure yet. But they certainly aren’t horse, or cow, or sheep, or any other common domesticated animal; that much I can tell you. Whatever they are, they’re something that was here before domesticated animals were common.” He looked at me, the light of enthusiasm bright in his eyes. “And that’s pretty exciting.”

“It’s less exciting to me if it means my bar is going to disappear.” The words came out of my mouth more blunt than I’d intended, and Ryan sighed.

Damn. I didn’t mean to say that out loud.

“I know, Cat. Look, all I can do is promise you a fair deal, like I said.”

“I know.” I paused for a minute. “Sorry.”

“Besides,” he put the bone down carefully in its container, snapped it shut, and turned back to me, “have you considered going somewhere else? Getting out of this town?”

“Somewhere else? Like where?” If he was trying to make me look on the bright side of losing my bar, he wasn’t succeeding.

“Well, anywhere. Somewhere a bit more…interesting. You’re clearly a very intelligent and capable woman, and—”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” My voice was heavy with sarcasm, and Ryan took a step back.

“Look, all I’m saying is that you could do better than,” he waved an arm around him, “than this. This place, this town. Cable Bay is fine for someone who’s retiring, but don’t you want to get out of here sometimes? Do you really think someone like you belongs here? Running a bar in the middle of nowhere?”

You had to say it, didn’t you? I closed my hands into fists. “For your information, I do not want to get out of here, and I am not interested in your opinion about where I belong. In fact, I’m not interested in your opinions about my life as a general rule. You don’t know anything about me.”

Ryan’s face fell. “Okay, okay. Just don’t blame me for saying something you’re obviously thinking yourself.” He walked over and picked up the keg again, taking hold of both handles.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Now I was genuinely annoyed, and I stood directly in front of him, hands on hips, the afternoon’s work forgotten.

“You. This place.” Ryan shook his head. “It’s been obvious to me that you don’t feel like you ought to be here. It’s been obvious, in fact, since the first day I arrived in town. You’re nice to people, but you feel like you ought to be somewhere else. So, what I am saying,” he hefted the keg, “is that you should find out where that somewhere else is, and go there, Cat Milsom.”

I wanted to throttle this sanctimonious idiot. Coming into my bar, and telling me that I shouldn’t be here? Ryan had never met my parents, or my ex-fiancé Kirk, but I was sure they’d get on famously.

“For your information, Dr. Sanders,” my tone icy, “I am exactly where I want to be for the moment. And if I need advice on where to go and what to do, I won’t be taking it from you.”

Still hefting the heavy keg, Ryan shrugged. “Fine. Suit yourself. As a matter of fact, I’ve got somewhere else I need to be myself. I’ll leave this keg next to the other one.” Taking the stairs two at a time, he didn’t look behind him, and the clang of the metal keg on the floor as he dropped it made me jump.