Page 16 of Researching the Pole

“Will do.”

The radio went silent. Grant set it back on the wall cradle but didn’t move away from me.

“Just us?” he asked quietly.

“Just us.”

He blew out a breath. “All right, then get ready, Doc. I’m taking you out today to show you the wonders of Antarctica.”

That sounded like a date. I looked down, my cheeks felt warm, and slipped under him. Just before I could escape, he slapped my butt. “Hurry up.”

I yelped, turned around, and stared at him. He burst into laughter.

Shit. I’d liked that slap entirely too much. I turned and high tailed out of there.

8

Chapter 8

At the dock, Grant disappeared back into the mess hall while I loaded our observation equipment into the Zodiac. He returned twenty minutes later carrying an insulated bag that looked suspiciously heavy.

“What did you do?”

“Asked nicely.” He grinned and stowed the bag carefully.

I punched him on the shoulder. He just laughed, caught my fist, and pressed a kiss to my knuckles. “The chef made us something special.”

I snatched my hand back, glancing around to see if anyone saw that.

The water was calmer today, the ice chunks spread further apart. Grant navigated us out past the station’s immediate area, past the small islands, and heading toward the area where we’d been concentrating our observations.

I had my camera ready, binoculars around my neck, hoping for even a distant glimpse. Leopard seals were notoriously elusive despite their size. I’d been supremely lucky to spot our male on my very first two days. But I knew that they were apex predators that preferred to stay submerged, hunting beneath the ice. My luck would probably run out today.

We cruised around for an hour before Grant cut the engine.

“There,” Grant said quietly.

A sleek head broke the surface about thirty meters away. Even at this distance, I could see the distinctive spotted pattern on its neck and shoulders, the reptilian shape of its skull. Leopard seals looked prehistoric, like something that had survived from an earlier, more dangerous age.

“It’s our guy,” I breathed, already raising my camera.

The seal dove. I lowered the camera, disappointed but not surprised. They rarely stayed visible for long. I needed to take detailed pictures so I could estimate its size, age, and other data. If it started vocalizing, then I needed all his details to do my study.

“Want a snack? It might come back up if we hang around.”

“Yeah.” I agreed. There were plenty of other animals around. I snapped hundreds of pictures of penguins. The chicks were adorable.

Grant unzipped the insulated bag and produced two thermoses and a tin that, when he pried the lid off, revealed a neat stack of shortbread cookies, golden and thick, dusted with sugar.

I stared at it. Then at him. “You got the chef to make shortbread.”

“And hot chocolate.” He looked entirely too pleased with himself. Then he poured hot chocolate into the thermos lids and handed one to me, steam curling up into the cold air.

Warmth unfolded in my chest that had nothing to do with the drink. No one had ever done something like this for me. Not a girlfriend, not a colleague, not anyone. Grant had charmed a station chef in Antarctica into baking cookies so I’d have a treat while I watched for my seal. I didn’t know what to do with that information so I took a sip and said nothing for now. The chocolate was rich and thick, and the shortbread crumbled perfectly against my tongue.

It distinctly felt like a date. We munched and bobbed on the water. As far as first dates went, I’d think this had to rank right there on top. How many people in the world got to hang around in one of the most remote and picturesque parts of our planet with hot chocolate and shortbread and a handsome man as company?

Then my day was made even better because my guy surfaced again. Closer. Much closer.