Fossil and Furious (Paranormal Dating Agency #107)

1. Maple

ONE

MAPLE

The Arizona sun blazed overhead as Maple adjusted the weight of her pack. Five years of working with Ben had taught her to read his expressions, and the one he wore now—equal parts resignation and concern—meant he thought she'd finally lost her mind.

"Dragons, Maple. Really." Ben shifted his own pack higher on his shoulders, the metal buckles catching the harsh desert light. "We're talking about creatures that breathe fire and hoard gold. Not exactly what I'd call archaeological advancement."

"The iconography is consistent across three separate civilizations that had no contact with each other," Maple shot back, her boots crunching against the loose gravel as they approached the unmarked boundary of Trigg Corporation land.

"Similar metallurgy techniques, identical symbolic patterns, and references to territorial markers that match nothing in recorded history. "

"Or it's a coincidence. Cultural convergent evolution. Shared human mythology." Ben's voice carried the patience of someone who'd had this argument before. "You know, the logical explanation."

Maple's heart hammered against her ribs, though whether from the hike or anticipation, she couldn't say. The pull she felt toward this place defied every rational instinct she'd cultivated over the years—a magnetic tug that had been growing stronger with each step into the canyon country.

"Since when do you care about logical explanations?" She glanced sideways at him, noting the way his jaw tightened. "You followed me into that collapsed temple in Peru based on nothing but a fragment of pottery and a hunch."

"That was different. That was—"

"Based on evidence you could hold in your hands, I know." The familiar ache of being misunderstood settled in her chest. "But what if some evidence can't be quantified? What if there are things that exist outside peer review and academic approval?"

Ben stopped walking. The silence stretched between them, broken only by the distant cry of a hawk circling overhead. When he finally spoke, his voice was gentler.

"Maple, I've watched you build a reputation most archaeologists would kill for.

You've got instincts that border on supernatural themselves—I've seen you read a site like other people read newspapers.

" He gestured toward the sprawling canyon landscape ahead.

"But this? This feels different. Desperate. "

The word hit harder than she expected. Desperate.

Was that what this was? Years of chasing fragments and whispers, following leads that evaporated the moment she got close enough to examine them properly.

The growing certainty that she was running out of time to prove something she couldn't even articulate to herself.

"Maybe it is desperate." The admission scraped her throat raw. "Maybe I'm tired of playing it safe and following the approved dig sites and publishing papers about pottery shards that tell us nothing we didn't already know."

They reached a cluster of warning signs—NO TRESPASSING, PRIVATE PROPERTY, AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY—each more emphatic than the last. Ben's expression darkened as he read them.

"This is a really bad idea, Maple. We're talking about Trigg Corporation here. These people don't just press charges—they destroy careers. Permanently."

"What's the worst-case scenario if we don't find anything?" Maple stepped around the signs, her pulse quickening. "Trespassing charge. A fine. Maybe some bad publicity."

"And if we do find this rumored dragon artifact?"

The question hung in the air. Maple forced herself to meet his gaze, seeing her own reflection in his sun-weathered face—the careful mask she'd worn for so long that she sometimes forgot what lay beneath it.

"Then we deal with that when it happens."

Ben studied her for a long moment, then sighed and hefted his pack higher.

"Five years, Maple. Five years I've been following your hunches into places we shouldn't go, and somehow you always find something worth the risk.

" He shook his head but fell into step beside her. "I just hope your streak holds."

They moved deeper into the canyon country, where red rock formations rose like ancient sentinels and the air shimmered with heat mirages. No surveillance cameras tracked their movement, no fences barred their path—just the vast, empty landscape that had swallowed countless secrets over millennia.

With each step, the pull grew stronger. Something ahead called to her, a resonance she felt in her bones rather than heard with her ears.

The rational part of her mind cataloged the risks—career suicide, legal consequences, the very real possibility that she was chasing shadows based on nothing more than childhood fantasies she'd never quite outgrown.

Her parents would be appalled. Two retired history professors who'd spent decades teaching her to value evidence over imagination, to choose reputation over wonder.

They'd worked so hard to cure her of what they called her "impractical obsessions," steering her toward archaeology as a compromise—a way to channel her fascination with the past into something academically respectable.

If they could see her now, trespassing on corporate land in pursuit of dragon artifacts, they'd probably have her committed.

Her ex-boyfriend Harrison's voice echoed in her memory even now, that particular tone he'd used whenever she mentioned pursuing an unconventional lead.

"You're being impractical again, Maple. Reckless.

Why can't you focus on the kind of discoveries that actually matter?

The ones that build careers instead of destroying them? "

The ones that brought fame and fortune instead of wonder and truth.

She'd tried to explain once—the electric thrill of following a thread that led somewhere unexpected, the way certain artifacts seemed to whisper secrets just beyond the edge of understanding.

But Harrison had looked at her like she was speaking a foreign language, and eventually she'd stopped trying to make him understand.

Eventually she'd stopped trying to make anyone understand.

"You're thinking too loud," Ben observed, his voice cutting through her brooding. "Whatever's eating at you, it's making your shoulders bunch up like you're carrying twice the weight."

Maple forced herself to relax, though the tension remained coiled in her chest. "Just wondering if I'm finally losing my mind. Chasing dragons like some delusional treasure hunter instead of a serious archaeologist."

"Hey." Ben's hand touched her arm briefly—a rare gesture from someone who usually kept his distance. "Serious archaeologists don't make the discoveries that rewrite textbooks. Serious archaeologists catalog how other people lived instead of truly living themselves."

The unexpected support made her throat tighten. "And if there's nothing here? If I've dragged us both into legal trouble for nothing?"

"Then we'll deal with that too." Ben's smile was crooked but genuine. "Besides, I've got bail money saved up."

The landscape around them shifted as they climbed higher, the red rock giving way to something older and stranger.

Carved channels in the stone suggested water flow, but the patterns were too geometric, too purposeful to be natural erosion.

And there—barely visible unless you knew what to look for—symbols etched into the rock face that made Maple's breath catch.

"Ben." Her voice came out as a whisper. "Look at this."

He moved to her side, following her gaze to the carved symbols. His expression shifted from skepticism to professional interest in the space of a heartbeat.

"Those aren't Native American. Or Spanish colonial." He traced one of the symbols with his finger, careful not to touch the ancient stone. "I've never seen anything like this."

"Neither have I." The lie came easily, though her heart was racing. She had seen symbols like these—in dreams that felt more like memories, in sketches she'd made as a child and hidden away years ago. "But they match the fragments I've been tracking."

The pull was stronger now, almost overwhelming. Whatever waited ahead felt close enough to taste, and Maple found herself walking faster despite the growing heat and the weight of her pack.

This was it.

The moment she'd been building toward her entire career, though she'd never admitted it even to herself until now. The chance to prove that wonder still existed in a world that had cataloged and explained away most of its mysteries.

But if she was wrong—if this turned out to be another dead end, another fragment of wishful thinking disguised as archaeological evidence—then she would stop.

No more chasing rumors and following hunches that led nowhere.

No more risking her reputation on the slim possibility that dragons had once walked the earth.

But if she was right…

The thought made her dizzy with excitement and terror in equal measure. Because finding proof that dragons existed would mean everything she'd been taught about the world was incomplete. Everything she'd learned to dismiss as fantasy might be real.

And that would change everything.

Hours later, the canyon walls rose high around them like ancient guardians, carved red stone stretching toward a sky so blue it hurt to look at directly.

Maple felt the familiar ache in her shoulders as she shrugged off her pack, the weight hitting the ground with a muffled thud that seemed too loud in the vast silence.

Ben dropped his own pack beside hers, wiping sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. "Well, we made it this far without getting arrested. That's something."

"Let's hope our luck continues."

Maple knelt beside her pack, unzipping the main compartment to reveal their carefully selected tools—nothing too large, nothing that would scream 'archaeological excavation.' Just a couple of small folding shovels, brushes, and hand tools that could pass for routine camping gear.