7. Garrett
Garrett
The days had blurred into an endless cycle of working, eating, and working. Rinse and repeat. When I got into a project, I usually became lost to the world. That wasn’t new. It was just the first time I was doing it on a ship, surrounded by strangers.
I leaned back from the conference table and rubbed my eyes.
Across from me, Braddock sat exactly where he’d been all day.
He’d traded yesterday’s sweater for another one.
This one was… salmon? Maybe. Hell if I knew what color a salmon actually was.
Pinkish. Orange-ish. Whatever the proper name for it was, it somehow suited him just as well as the blue one had.
People had colors that looked better on them than others.
Braddock apparently wore whatever he pleased and looked unfairly good in all of them.
I flinched at my own thought. Where did that come from?
I glanced at the wall of giant displays that had so fascinated Dexter.
Numbers streamed continuously, accompanied by soft chimes and beeps, all day and night.
I had learned that the ship fed all data collected by various external sensors to the data suite but also throughout the ship.
A scientist could be anywhere on the ship and still pull up the same information. It was a damned efficient setup.
The data suite had become my favorite room aboard the ship.
It didn’t feel much like a science room at all.
A row of large circular portholes ran the length of one wall, pouring Antarctic daylight across the room.
People came and went throughout the day.
Dexter spent at least part of the day holed up in a corner with the latest exciting experiment he had been given access to.
My brother was having the time of his life.
Even now, there were clusters of people in the data suite, discussing and working together in low voices. I found it strangely soothing even though it was nothing like my workshop.
I found myself looking up again. Every now and then Braddock glanced up to think through something before looking back at the screen, and every time he did, those eyes caught the ambient soft light of the room.
What the hell was I doing? I’d never spent this much time thinking about another man’s eye color in my life. Or anybody’s eye color.
A strand of dark hair had escaped from where he’d tied it back and fallen across his forehead. Long eyelashes cast soft shadows across the tops of his cheekbones beneath the recessed lighting.
Why the fuck was he such a beautiful man?
Get a grip.
I jerked my attention back to my blueprints.
I’d come all the way out here to build a recovery platform, not sit around admiring the face of the man who’d cheated me.
And then insulted me. I went back to tapping my calculations with two fingers on the table surface.
The faster I finished my job here, the faster I could be out of here.
I’d left my pen back in my cabin, and I didn’t want to go back just for that.
So I used my fingers to draw invisible numbers on the conference tabletop, trying to hold each one in my head.
Something brushed against the back of my hand.
I startled. When I looked up, Braddock was standing beside me.
I stared at him, almost afraid he had somehow heard all the shit that was going on inside my brain.
The man in question gestured down. I followed his gaze to see that he was holding a pen out in my direction.
It was golden and glinted under the lighting. Like the studs in his ears.
Huh.
I took the pen.
Without a word, he crossed back to his chair, sat down, and resumed typing on his laptop.
The soft clicking of the keyboard felt loud in my ears.
I watched him for another moment before looking back down at the pen.
Well, that certainly beat tracing calculations with my fingertip across the conference table. Time to get to work.
I clicked the pen. Nothing. I tried to uncap the fancy-looking thing, but it had no damn cap.
What the hell. I really wasn’t in the mood to figure out how a damn pen in this damn ship worked.
I brought the pen close to my face. The lettering on the side was just the name of the ship.
There were no instructions. Of course, there weren’t. It was a damn pen.
The sound of a cough made me look up. The fucker was trying to cover up a laugh. I should have just killed him when I had the chance. He held up a similar-looking pen in his hand and gave it a shake. Lo and behold, the tip appeared.
I copied his movement, and yep, this fucking pen apparently needed a shake. I stared at the nib with a scowl. It was gold too. Why? Who thought pens needed an overhaul?
“Do we have to shit gold on your fancy ship too?” I bit out.
He burst into laughter. He threw his head back and his shoulders shook. His face was transformed and …fuck my life, why did even his laugh have to be so…so… pretty?
When I laughed, Dexter said I sounded like a bull.
He wiped his eyes and said, “As long as you do shit regularly.”
I fought with everything I had not to return the smile. Great, now I wanted to banter with him? Had I no standards left at all?
I reminded myself that I couldn’t afford to be hoodwinked by him yet again. He knew how to misuse his beauty. Was I forgetting just how awfully he had behaved during the public fencing match a year ago? How he had used my one weakness against me?
I needed to stay focused on the task. Nothing else. Certainly not him. For the next few minutes I managed to do that.
Suddenly a sharp electronic ping shattered the quiet. Then another.
Braddock’s fingers stopped on his keyboard. Across the room, the scientist who’d been stretched out in one of the lounge chairs lowered his book and looked toward Braddock.
A few people drew in sharp breaths. Then the lounge chair guy laughed. “Nate! Your girlfriend’s back.”
Braddock shot to his feet, looking almost afraid to believe it. “I… think she is.”
The two scientists working in the corner crossed the room. “Congratulations, man!”
I’d known from the moment I stepped aboard that a ship like this was its own village.
There were only a few dozen people aboard.
You ate together. Worked together. Passed the same faces in the corridors every day.
Waypoint wasn’t much different. After a while everybody knew everybody else’s business whether they wanted to or not.
Still…
This seemed a little excessive. Half the room looked ready to throw a celebration because Braddock’s girlfriend had apparently shown up.
I’d thought he was gay. Clearly I’d gotten that one wrong. Which was none of my damn business. So why the hell had I spent the last week—and the last whole year—assuming otherwise?
I scowled at my drawings.
The data suite door opened with a thud and another man came barging in, wearing the biggest grin I’d seen on anyone here.
“I just heard your Lady’s back!”
Okay.
Now I was pissed.
“She is.” Braddock beamed back. “Time to go meet my girl.” He looked toward the pair of scientists standing next to him. “You two coming?”
They nodded immediately. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
What the fuck?
Was there something weird going on aboard this ship? Did they all share…his girlfriend? I swear I’d never seen a bunch of grown men so excited about somebody else’s girlfriend.
I cornered Dexter before he could disappear into the growing commotion and pulled him a few steps away.
“Dex.”
“What?”
I lowered my voice. “What the hell is going on? Who’s Braddock’s girlfriend?”
For a heartbeat he simply stared at me, eyes widening. Then he burst out laughing.
“What?” I frowned.
“What did you think?”
I scowled. “Just answer me.”
“No.” He shook his head, still laughing. “I really want to know. What did you think?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. Some kind of girlfriend welcoming committee.”
That only made him laugh harder. I growled under my breath. He had been spending way too much time with the scientists aboard the ship.
“Stop laughing. I don’t want anybody else to hear. Will you answer me or not?”
Dexter got himself under control, though he was still fighting a smile. “You know Dr. Braddock’s a whale researcher, right?”
I nodded impatiently.
“He’s been tracking one particular female humpback for years. You know how scientists back at Waypoint tag animals?”
“Yeah.”
“Same concept.” He placed both hands on my shoulders and turned me toward the wall of displays. “See that big red blinking dot?”
I nodded.
“That’s her. She’s back in transmission range.”
“Back?”
“Yep. Whales migrate to warmer waters for breeding. They’re coming back to Antarctica now that it’s summer here.
During migration, scientists lose track of animals for long stretches, so Dr. Braddock didn’t know exactly where she was.
” He looked at me with his big round eyes.
“This is a huge deal for him, Garrett. Every year there’s a chance she doesn’t come back.
She could die during migration. Hundreds of miles of open water.
The tag could fail. Anything could happen. ”
I found myself looking at the blinking dot again.
“And…” Dexter said, trying very hard not to grin again, “he nicknamed her Lady.”
I closed my eyes for a second.
Of course.
That made perfect sense. I should’ve figured that out immediately. I’d spent enough years around scientists to know all of this. Instead, my brain had skipped right past the obvious explanation and landed on the most ridiculous one imaginable.
Dexter leaned closer. “So there isn’t actually a human girlfriend. Why do I get the feeling you were jealous?”
I opened my eyes and shot him a glare.
“No, I wasn’t.”
Before he could needle me any further, Braddock’s voice carried across the room.
“Landry.”
We both turned. I wasn’t sure which Landry he was addressing.
Everyone else had gathered by the door, backpacks slung over shoulders, ready to leave.