Page 1 of Researching the Pole

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Chapter 1

Waypoint Research Station

Antarctica

‘Austral Summer’

Dec 4th.

The wind cutting through my bright orange parka made my eyes water. Around me, the Antarctic landscape stretched in every direction: humongous chunks of ice floating around, their surfaces so breathtakingly blue, making me realize how the term ‘icy blue’ came about.

A seal surfaced twenty yards from the dock of the research station my boat was headed towards, its whiskered face breaking the smooth surface of the water before disappearing again. It wasn’t a leopard seal. Of course not. Those beasts were elusive and rare. And dangerous. And I was hoping to find one for my study.

“Dr. Cole!” A man dressed similarly to others in a cluster of bright orange parkas waved as my boat thumped against the ramp. “Welcome to Waypoint Station!”

Usually one didn’t get a welcoming committee, but I may have caught his attention with my recent five minutes of fame on the evening news channel. The group of men and women helped my boat up the dock.

“Thank you,” I huffed and puffed my way up the dock as the station chief introduced me to the small cluster of people—scientists and photographers and mad folks like me.

“And this is your diving partner for the duration of your stay.” The last person to shake my hand was a man with the palest of blue eyes, dark curls that hung down to his shoulders, and a strength in his grip that made me shiver. I froze in surprise.

Grant.

Grant Reeves stood among the other station personnel, taller than I remembered, his muscles bulkier, and his shoulders broader than the high schooler I knew. But those eyes. Those damn eyes were the same that had made me tongue-tied in senior biology class seven years ago. How was he here? Someone I hadn’t expected to see ever again.

“Dr. Cole,” His voice was deeper too, smooth and confident. “Happy to be of service.”

My stomach did complicated twists and turns. Much like how Grant used to play, stealing the ball and gliding through the basketball court. The popular captain who’d intimidated the crap out of me in high school and had girls fawning all over him. This dude was my assigned dive partner? Holy hell.

“Grant,” I managed to keep my voice steady. “Small world.”

His mouth curved into a half-smile. “I always knew you’d make something of yourself.”

I blushed like an idiot, hoping the frigid temperature had my fair skin red enough that no one would notice. The station chief left me ‘in the capable hands of the master diver’ and I found myself looking at the broad back of Grant, who was hauling my heavy gear effortlessly.

“Let me show you our cabin, Dr. Cole.”

“Ours?”

That half-smile again. “Yeah. We’re gonna be in that one, there. I arrived here this morning so I had time to get it fixed up. But let me know if you need something.”

Ice crunched under my feet as I struggled to keep pace. “Uhh…thanks. That’s surprisingly…”

I trailed off awkwardly. Damn it. This is exactly why I never dared to think of him as a friend in high school. He was all cocky, assured, teasing, and I was the bumbling genius who won the national science fair competition but couldn’t string two words together in front of him. Frankly, I envied men like him. So secure in their skin.

I’d tried my best to forget him after high school. Now I realized I hadn’t done a good job after all.

“So you’re here to record leopard seals, correct?” Grant slowed down and fell into step beside me as we headed toward the teal colored shack.

Though the continent of Antarctica belonged to no single country — protected by international treaty, claimed by none — Waypoint Station was mostly American. An assortment of brightly colored research buildings and boats and chunks of floating ice.

“Yeah.” I nodded.

“The breeding vocalization study you’ve been working on?”

“You know about that?”