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“Of course, right this way,” she says, leading me through a set of swinging doors that says employees only on them. “Summer doesn’t like to be disturbed when she works, so I’ll take you to the observation area. It’s off to the side, but you’ll be able to see everything.”
“Thank you.”
“Alright. I’ve got to get back to work, but I’ll leave you to it.”
“Thanks again.”
At first, all I see are penguins, a few different kinds. They are sliding on man-made ice flumes and swimming in what is sure to be cold ass water. Then I see her, and my heart stops beating for a second before kickstarting again. She’s wearing the same khaki on khaki outfit her boss was wearing, but somehow it looks sexy as hell on her. She looks so confident and in her element. She has a clipboard in her hand as she writes about the penguin standing on the table before her. I watch as she sets the clipboard down, lifts one of the penguin’s wings, and then writes something else. Then she disappears through a door in the wall I didn’t notice before. I hear a little noise and feel something nudge at my shin. I look down and see a tiny penguin that has to be a baby. It’s all brown and so stinking fluffy. It’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. It’s practically… well, purring is the only thing that comes close to the sound it’s making. When she returns a few minutes later, she’s carrying a bucket, and, like magic, twenty penguins begin to swarm around her.
“Hello, my babies, it’s lunchtime,” she says in a sing-song voice. A cacophony of squawks and caws fills the space, and I could swear they are all talking to her simultaneously. “Don’t worry; Mama has enough for everyone.” She reaches into the bucket and pulls out several pieces of fish, feeding each one of them individually. “Don’t push, Noel; that’s not nice.” I burst out laughing. I can’t help it; she’s so fucking adorable.
“Jesus!” she screams and drops her bucket of fish, which causes a bit of frenzy at her feet. She sidesteps the penguins and walks over toward me angrily. She reaches down and picks up the brown ball of fluff, and holds him in her arms. Immediately my mind goes to her holding our baby in her arms, and I want that so fucking bad. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Hello to you too, Summer,” I growl, moving closer to her. She closes her eyes briefly before opening them.
“Hello, Mr. Jorgensen.” She smiles at me, but I know it’s a sarcastic smile. “Now, what the hell are you doing here?” she asks again, and I laugh again.
“I wanted to see first-hand what you do here.”
“Oh,” she says. Does she sound disappointed by that? To my ears, she does and that gives me hope that I won’t have to work too hard to make her mine.
“Oh?”
“Right, well, do you have any questions I can answer to make your decision any easier?”
“How many species of penguins are there?”
“Eighteen.”
“What are they?” I ask, feeling the need to quiz her. I want her to show me her knowledge.
“Really?”
“Yes, please. Go on,” I say, gesturing to her. She rolls her eyes at me and takes a deep breath.
“King, Emperor, Gentoo, Adelie, Chinstrap, Southern Rockhopper, Northern Rockhopper, Fiordland, Snares, Erect-crested, Macaroni, Royal, Yellow-eyed, Little, African, Humboldt, Magellanic, and Galpagoes.” She says these names that mean nothing to me in one breath.
“I see and all of these are in antarctica?”
“No. Some are from a more temperate climate.”
“Such as?”
“Humboldt, King, Little, Magellanic, African, and Galapogoes are scattered on other continents.”
“And are you researching all of their mating habits or just specific breeds?” I ask, moving closer to her.
“Currently, I am just researching Antarctic penguins; that’s all we have here, except for Pluto,” she says, holding up the fluff ball in her arms. “He’s a King Penguin chick. He was separated from his parents.”
“Can I hold him?” I ask. He does look incredibly cuddly.
“Yes, of course, but he uh… might urinate on you.”
“That’s okay,” I say, chuckling. She places him into my arms, and he starts up that purring-like noise again.
“He likes you. He’s vocalizing for you.” All I can do is nod because the chick is so fucking cute.
“Tell me something else about your research.”
“While I am researching these specific breeds, I believe that eventually, the information I gather can be used to assist all breeds. They are endangered, and I want to help them prosper.”
“That’s very noble of you, Summer.”
“Mr. Jorgensen,” she says, taking the chick back. She sets him down on the ground, and he toddles over to the water and jumps in.
“My name is Balder, Summer. Say it. Say my name.”
“Balder,” she whispers and licks her lips. It’s the lip-licking that does it for me. I reach for her hips and pull her flush to my body. Before she can say anything, I press my lips to hers. Using my tongue, I coax her mouth open and deepen the kiss when she does. She tastes like spearmint and Dr. Pepper, but it’s like a drug to me. I’m addicted to her sweet kisses. Finally, I pull away from her and stare down at her. She has a dazed look on her face, and I’m sure my own face mirrors that. Never has a kiss felt so right… so powerful.
