Researching the Pole (Polar Love Stories #1)

Chapter 1

Waypoint Research Station

Antarctica

‘Austral Summer’

The wind cutting through my bright orange parka made my eyes water. Around me, the Antarctic landscape stretched in every direction: humongous chunks of ice floating around, their surfaces so breathtakingly blue, making me realize how the term ‘icy blue’ came about.

A seal surfaced twenty yards from the dock of the research station my boat was headed towards, its whiskered face breaking the smooth surface of the water before disappearing again.

It wasn’t a leopard seal. Of course not.

Those beasts were elusive and rare. And dangerous.

And I was hoping to find one for my study.

“Dr. Cole!” A man dressed similarly to others in a cluster of bright orange parkas waved as my boat thumped against the ramp. “Welcome to Waypoint Station!”

Usually one didn’t get a welcoming committee, but I may have caught his attention with my recent five minutes of fame on the evening news channel. The group of men and women helped my boat up the dock.

“Thank you,” I huffed and puffed my way up the dock as the station chief introduced me to the small cluster of people—scientists and photographers and mad folks like me.

“And this is your diving partner for the duration of your stay.” The last person to shake my hand was a man with the palest of blue eyes, dark curls that hung down to his shoulders, and a strength in his grip that made me shiver. I froze in surprise.

Grant.

Grant Reeves stood among the other station personnel, taller than I remembered, his muscles bulkier, and his shoulders broader than the high schooler I knew.

But those eyes. Those damn eyes were the same that had made me tongue-tied in senior biology class seven years ago.

How was he here? Someone I hadn’t expected to see ever again.

“Dr. Cole,” His voice was deeper too, smooth and confident. “Happy to be of service.”

My stomach did complicated twists and turns. Much like how Grant used to play, stealing the ball and gliding through the basketball court. The popular captain who’d intimidated the crap out of me in high school and had girls fawning all over him. This dude was my assigned dive partner? Holy hell.

“Grant,” I managed to keep my voice steady. “Small world.”

His mouth curved into a half-smile. “I always knew you’d make something of yourself.”

I blushed like an idiot, hoping the frigid temperature had my fair skin red enough that no one would notice. The station chief left me ‘in the capable hands of the master diver’ and I found myself looking at the broad back of Grant, who was hauling my heavy gear effortlessly.

“Let me show you our cabin, Dr. Cole.”

“Ours?”

That half-smile again. “Yeah. We’re gonna be in that one, there. I arrived here this morning so I had time to get it fixed up. But let me know if you need something.”

Ice crunched under my feet as I struggled to keep pace. “Uhh…thanks. That’s surprisingly…”

I trailed off awkwardly. Damn it. This is exactly why I never dared to think of him as a friend in high school.

He was all cocky, assured, teasing, and I was the bumbling genius who won the national science fair competition but couldn’t string two words together in front of him.

Frankly, I envied men like him. So secure in their skin.

I’d tried my best to forget him after high school. Now I realized I hadn’t done a good job after all.

“So you’re here to record leopard seals, correct?” Grant slowed down and fell into step beside me as we headed toward the teal colored shack.

Though the continent of Antarctica belonged to no single country — protected by international treaty, claimed by none — Waypoint Station was mostly American. An assortment of brightly colored research buildings and boats and chunks of floating ice.

“Yeah.” I nodded.

“The breeding vocalization study you’ve been working on?”

“You know about that?”

“Of course, Doc.” He smiled warmly.

My heart joined my stomach. Wow, when had he become so interested in academic stuff? And that killer smile? No wonder the girls were crazy about him. He must have no lack of girlfriends now. I was too busy for dating, but he made me wonder. What kind of woman would a man like him be interested in?

“The challenge will be getting close enough to record without interfering with their behavior,” he continued, oblivious to my state of mind.

“As you know, they’re territorial, aggressive, and they vocalize in water.

Look out there. That’s barely above freezing.

Most recording equipment can’t handle the conditions. ”

I stopped walking and stared at him. “How do you know so much? I thought you were just a diver.”

“I’ve been following your publications.” He said it casually like it was no big deal.

Following my publications? Grant Reeves had been reading academic journals? The guy who used to copy my homework had been tracking my career? My head spun.

“That’s why you need a dive partner who knows these waters.” Grant’s expression turned smug. “I’ve been working Antarctic stations for three seasons. I know where they hunt.”

Was he trying to sell himself? Because I was already sold. I had prepared to ‘educate’ my diving partner. I didn’t expect someone to have actually read my work.

Grant led me down the path to our cabin, carrying all my equipment with ease, talking about safety protocols, while I tried to reconcile this competent, professional version with my memory of the cocky teenager who’d dominated our high school basketball court.

This Grant moved with purpose, was intelligent, measured, and pointing out wildlife as if he actually cared about me.

“Main station’s over there,” he said, nodding toward the cluster of orange buildings as we passed. “But they’ve assigned you the research cabin for privacy. Less disruption to your work and the recordings.”

Ah. Right.

“Welcome to our temporary quarters, Doc.” Grant opened the door to a tiny cabin.

The way he said ‘our’ sent an unexpected flutter through my chest. What the hell was up with me?

He set my equipment down gently in the living room that was also a kitchenette. “The mess hall in the main building serves all the meals, but we can make tea and coffee and heat up food in the cabin here.”

I surveyed the kitchenette area next to the only table in the cabin.

Immediately, I mentally marked it for setting up my recording equipment.

On the counter top of the kitchenette sat a basket stuffed with my specific blend of herbal tea.

I was sure that brand wasn’t available here in this remote corner of the earth.

Possibly reading my confused expression, he commented casually while continuing to unload all the equipment gear. “I stocked the kitchen with your favorites. But like I said, let me know if you need anything.”

Grant knew my tea preference? How? “You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to.” His voice was quiet.

My heart did an odd thing.

“Welcome to Antarctica, Adrien.”

Oh! Oh, this was not good. I didn’t at all like the way my brain immediately extrapolated that welcome to a whole lot more.

***

After I shed all the extra winter jacket, mittens, and cap, I put some water to heat for a cup of tea. All the while, I watched him from the corner of my eyes. Grant was spreading topographical maps across the dining table and pulling out depth charts I hadn’t seen before.

“I am thinking we can scout the northern coastline,” he said, tracing routes with his finger.

“Ice conditions have been stable for the past week, and I spotted seal activity in this area during my dive this morning.” He looked up at me.

His competence was unsettling—this wasn’t the same guy who’d struggled through equations while I’d quietly done most of the work.

“How does that sound? What’s your preferred deployment pattern for the hydrophone array? ”

I blinked. He was seriously freaking me out now. He didn’t just ‘read my publications’. He had to have understood them! No one ever asked about my deployment preferences. Usually, I had to spend some time just to get divers to understand why precise positioning mattered.

“Triangular grid, minimum fifty-meter spacing,” I said automatically.

“Solid.” He marked something on the map. “We’ll just need to compensate for drift and set the anchors deeper than standard protocol.”

“That’s…” I cleared my throat and dipped my tea bag into a cup of hot water. “That’s exactly right.” Grant Reeves understood oceanographic drift calculations. Why was that so…hot? No, not hot. I mean he was a guy. A dude. I just meant… attractive in a completely platonic way, of course.

“I did my homework.” Grant looked up at me and winked. My pulse stuttered.

Needing to do something other than gawk at him awkwardly, I carried my cup and moved deeper into the cabin. There was a small bedroom with a single bed and an attached bathroom. I turned to look for the second bedroom but…

“Uh, Grant… where’s the second bedroom?”

“Only one bedroom, Doc. But the second bed is coming. Some shipping delay. Don’t worry. By the time we’re back from the scouting, it will be there.”

We were going to share this tiny bedroom? And a bathroom?

Shit.