Page 40 of Ruining His Smirk

“That is—”

“I’m serious,” I said. “I know exactly what kind of man Landry is and I’m not falling for it.”

Keith looked at me for another long moment and then nodded. I liked Keith because he respected me. Didn’t treat me like I was fragile or anything—something I was very sensitive to.

“You should get out of here.”

“I am working.”

“You’re hiding.”

“A little hiding is important for the soul.”

He barked a laugh. “Fresh air, Nate. Go up on deck. Walk around. Look at the sky. Remind yourself there’s a world outside this room.”

“At two in the morning,” I grumbled, but I was smiling.

“The sun’s still up in Antarctica.”

That was irritatingly true.

“Fine.” My fight went out with an exhale. He was right.

Finally, he checked the time on his watch. “I’m heading up to the bridge. Third watch.”

“Rather you than me.”

“You’d survive.”

I scoffed. “Put me on the bridge for four hours and we’d all be dead before breakfast.”

He opened the laboratory door and waited for me to join him in the corridor. “You wouldn’t be alone up there. The watch officer handles navigation.”

Before my first Antarctic expedition, I had imagined a research vessel divided neatly into professions. Sailors sailed. Scientists performed science. Divers dived. Cooks cooked. Then I had stepped aboard and discovered that a ship carrying only thirty people could not afford such tidy distinctions. Everyone had a primary job and at least one secondary duty. Sometimes three.

Keith was irritatingly useful. He was our deep-sea diver, one of the strongest people aboard during launch and recovery operations, and the onboard medic. His military training meant the captain also trusted him on overnight bridge watches, when an extra pair of disciplined eyes mattered more than another academic staring helplessly at a radar screen.

“Just as well. I’d be completely useless.” I emptied the cup in the sink. After rinsing the cup and setting it to dry, I grabbed my heavy parka and followed him into the corridor.

“You help in the galley.”

“Yes, where the worst thing I can do is ruin breakfast for thirty people.”

“Morale is operationally important.”

I side-eyed him as we walked down the corridor. “Are you being extra chirpy because of the whole… you know?”

He grinned. “You mean your cowboy situation?”

I groaned. “Forget I asked.”

“Don’t think I didn’t notice that you didn’t protest the possessive noun this time.”

I shoved him with all my might before turning around and climbing the stairs leading to the upper deck.

* * *

I pushed the heavy door open and stepped through onto the deck of the ship. The cold immediately found every small weakness in my clothing. The ship sat motionless in the channel it had carved through the sea ice.