Page 4 of Researching the Pole

I nodded, not trusting my voice, and definitely not trusting myself to explain that diving wasn’t what had me frozen in place.

“Tell you what. I’ll suit up first, then help you with yours. Sound good?”

Grant pulled on his fleece mid-layer, then reached for his drysuit. I watched him step into it with practiced ease, pulling the heavy material up his legs, over his hips, sliding his arms through the sleeves. Every movement efficient and controlled.

When he zipped it up to his chest, he looked over at me. “Your turn, Doc.”

I hadn’t moved. Couldn’t move, apparently. My body had decided that standing perfectly still was the only acceptable response to the last ten minutes of psychological warfare.

Grant crossed the small space between us, his expression shifting to something almost concerned. “You’re standing like someone’s holding you at gunpoint.” He stopped directly in front of me, close enough that I had to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. “Relax. I’ve got you. We’ll get you acclimated and you’ll get the data on your elusive seals and publish your award-winning paper.”

That did help me relax. The paper! That’s why I was here. He knew about that too?

“Let’s get you layered up.” He reached for my thermal shirt. “Arms up.”

I raised my arms like a kid getting dressed by his mom, and Grant pulled the thermal top over my head.

“Good. Now the pants.”

I stared at him.

“You’re gonna need to take your jeans off, Doc.”

Right. Obviously. I fumbled with my belt buckle, fingers clumsy, and shoved my jeans down. Grant steadied me with one hand on my shoulder as I stepped out of them.

“Thermal bottoms.” He handed them to me, then turned away to grab the fleece layers, giving me a moment of privacy that I desperately needed and absolutely didn’t deserve after spending the last ten minutes staring at him.

I quickly got naked, then yanked the thermal bottoms on, moving fast before my brain could spiral further. Silently, he helped me put on the next gazillion layers, touching me with professional need but lighting up my whole body. His hands brushed my sides as he tugged the layers down, smoothing the fabric into place. I was in danger of a boner at this rate. What the hell was wrong with me?

He held up my drysuit. “This is the tricky part. Step in, one leg at a time.”

I did as instructed. The material was thick and stiff, and I nearly lost my balance getting my second leg through. Instantly, Grant’s hands landed on my waist, steadying me.

“Easy. I’ve got you.” His voice was close in my ears, deep, rough, and low.

I shivered involuntarily.

“Sorry, you’ll get warm soon.”

Thank goodness he misunderstood why I was shivering. He moved in behind me, his chest nearly pressed against my back as he helped guide the suit up my legs. “The seal has to be perfect,” he murmured, his breath warm against my cheek. “Any water gets in, you’ll freeze in minutes.”

His hands moved up my sides slowly, palms flat and dragging, adjusting the material, pulling it snug over my hips.

I swallowed hard. I think I was gonna pass out. The diving certificate course I had taken was nothing like this. Those instructors were just instructors. They didn’t make my brain melt.

“Arms through.”

I slid my arms into the sleeves, and Grant moved around to my front, checking the fit across my shoulders and chest. His fingers traced over my collarbone, down my chest, until he reached the seals at my wrists, testing them.

“Too tight?” He was standing so close I could see the blue ring around his irises.

I shook my head. Words were beyond me.

“Good.” He murmured.

He reached for the zipper at my abdomen and started pulling it up slowly, his knuckles brushing my sternum through the layers. “The drysuit keeps you insulated by trapping air. You’ll feel bulky at first, but once we’re underwater, you’ll adjust.”

I nodded mutely.