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My shoulders sagged as I finally relaxed only to realize Austin was still there.
“Oh shit.” The words slipped out. Apparently, my mouth had plenty of good ones when they were uncalled for and none when they were.
I buried my face in my hands, took a deep breath, and tried again. “Sorry. I didn’t realize you were still there. I’m not like this normally. I swear.” Stop talking, Rosi.
Austin chuckled and crossed his arms, displaying his corded mountain climbing muscles like a gilded statue. “No need to apologize. You were pretty much ambushed just then.”
I sighed, relieved that he understood. “Seriously! A little warning would’ve been nice. I’m not great with public speaking, though I guess that was obvious.”
Austin’s smile inched wider, making his eyes scrunch up in the corners. “You did great.”
His emphasis on the last word made me cringe. I deserved that.
“No really,” he said, reaching out and letting his hand graze my arm. “All jokes aside, it’s tough when you’re under a spotlight like that. It took me at least a year to learn to master my composure. There’s an old joke about picturing the crowd in their underwear, and I’m not saying to try it because you may end up in hysterics and look worse.”
I couldn’t help but laugh.
He answered with a grin far more genuine than the one he’d had at the press conference. “Anyway, I’m sure you gave Ms. Bennet exactly what she wanted at the very least. If I get wind of any more surprise press conferences, I’ll try to send you a heads-up. Nice to meet you by the way.” He held out a hand, and I shook it.
“Thanks for being so gracious. I don’t really think you’re the best part of the tri—” I caught myself too late, and he dropped my hand, raising his eyebrows while pouting. “What I mean is, I’m looking forward to our expedition.”
“Same here. Do you have any training or experience? It’s good to know what I’m going in with.”
Heat rushed to my face. “I regularly go to the gym on campus. But hiking is about as outdoorsy as I get in LA. When I was a teenager, I loved skiing and camping though. I used to vacation in Colorado or Oregon with my family, so at least I know what snow is.”
“That’s something,” Austin said, leading the way out of the cavernous landing area and toward the arched tunnels that presumably led into the resort.
“I study native mythologies, and I’m hoping to discover something about the source of some of the Inuit myths.” It was a politically correct way of saying I was out to prove the existence of cryptids.
Austin glanced sideways at me as we passed by multiple icicle-framed tunnel entrances, each at least ten feet tall and milling with people, headed toward the sound of rushing water. “I can’t promise any more than ice and snow for miles.”
As well designed as this place was, the lack of winter’s freezing air made the whole thing feel wrong. I shouldn’t have been comfortable in a T-shirt and jeans, yet here I was. The stinging cold that hit my exposed skin on my occasional skiing trip was MIA. The incredible landscape outside of the AC glass, filled with stark contrasts of pristine snow, crystal blue skies, and sparkling ice that promised the full arctic experience reassured me I’d truly landed in the Tundra.
“I understand there are no guarantees. But if there are any real ice caves or hidden crevices out there…” I let my voice trail off, gesturing out at the picturesque view where a shadow wavered far on the snowy horizon. Probably a polar bear or something, I supposed.
“Glad to hear you are adventurous,” Austin said and winked.
We rounded a corner, and a massive space came into view, stealing my attention. At least six stories tall, the main courtyard’s centerpiece rushed over stepped rock ledges in crashing waves. The waterfall foamed into bubbling white froth at the bottom that sloshed up the clear fence at least as high as my head. The whole thing was a good quarter-mile wide as well, circled in snowcapped boulders of varying heights.
“That’s amazing,” I said, once again unable to find better words.
“Amazing but not exactly accurate unless global warming had managed to destroy the glaciers and environmental stabilizers hadn’t been invented.” Austin crossed his arms, glaring at the spectacle like it was a mouse masquerading as a lion.
I nodded in response. “Good point. But it is pretty to look at.”
“Just because something’s pretty doesn’t mean it’s productive or even truthful.”
Austin’s comment stung. Of course he was right. But was he talking about the waterfall or something else?
“So I don’t suppose you know where my room would be?” I asked, exhaustion catching up to me as I glanced around at the seemingly endless shops, restaurants, and streams of people filing in and out amongst them.
“Check your wristcom for the room number,” Austin said.
Again, something simple I should’ve thought of myself. Good thing I wasn’t trying to impress him or I’d practically be in tears by this point.
I glanced at my wrist. “Suite 600,” I reported.
“Right next door. Come on, I’ll walk you up.” Austin waved me toward what appeared to be an escalator made of ice, though I knew it couldn’t be real because of not only the comfortable temperature but the risk of guests slipping. Inside, the gears spun in a hypnotic dance, rolling the steps upward in a smooth motion. Beside it, more boulders stacked in a step-like formation reaching for the enormous domed ceiling. The ultra-thin, ultra-strong AC glass was so clear it looked as though nothing stood between the bright sky and us. Obviously it did, or we’d be frozen solid without so much as a jacket.
