Page 12 of Falling for the Recluse

“You store all the data in this program?”

I nod and pull up the list of tag numbers and details. Both to my surprise and pleasure, he edges his chair closer and studies the screen.

“Are you working with any other students?” he asks.

“Not on this project, no. But I’m part of a student research group that’s putting together a penguin education website. I’m hoping to connect the webcams to it so people can see penguins in real-time and in their natural habitat.”

“What’s your career goal?”

“Anything that allows me to continue working with penguins. Maybe a job with a conservation science center. I could teach, but I really prefer field research. I’d love to find a way to travel and work on location like you do.”

Something flickers in his eyes that I can’t quite read—though it doesn’t seem like skepticism.

“You shouldn’t do what I do,” he says flatly.

“Why not?”

“You need to work with people and network.” He indicates my computer. “Your professors and the PRG all had great things to say about you. You should collaborate and get involved with research groups. Publish papers, give presentations, attend conferences. Don’t get yourself stuck in one place.”

I swivel in my chair to face him, my curiosity rising. “Like you?”

He shrugs, his expression shuttered. “I’m at the stage in my career where I can do what I want. You’re just starting. You’re new.”

I roll my eyes, sensing where this is heading. “And you’re old?”

He frowns. “I’m experienced.”

“I know.” I shoot him a grin.

He huffs out a laugh and pushes his chair back, touching the back of my neck. “You should get some sleep. The blackout curtains in your room will help keep your circadian rhythms stable.”

I stand and stretch. Despite the long travel and the shocking wildness of what’s happening between Dr. Stark and me, I feel more energized and alive than I’ve ever been. But since I haven’t even unpacked yet, I head back to my bunk.

I take Oswald out of my travel bag and set him on the bed.

“We’re here,” I tell him, patting his fuzzy head.

Excitement rushes through me. I already like who I am down here at the bottom of the world—or who I’m becoming. I’m bold, adventurous, and brave.

Or maybe I’ve always been this way. Maybe I just needed glaciers, penguins, and an ice scientist to discover the truth about myself.

ChapterEight

GAVIN

I’m up before dawn.Though the Antarctic sky is never dark in the summer, my internal rhythms have adapted to a regular day-and-night schedule.

I make coffee, get the potbelly stove in the workroom going, then sit down to work. I expect Josie to sleep in after her trip yesterday, but she wakes not long after I do.

I’d been aware of her all night, almost like I could hear her breathing. Now she’s shuffling around her bunk. The bathroom door closes. The water runs. I picture her naked in the shower—running her hands over her soapy tits, skin all wet and glistening—

With a groan, I shove the fantasy aside and refocus on the mass balance graph. I want to convince myself that my explosive reaction to her is the result of not having gotten laid in a while. My lifestyle doesn’t even lend itself well to one-night stands, much less short-term relationships. Not that I’ve been looking for one. Solitude is how I live, even if I get sick of my own company.

But it turns out Josie isn’t just an outlet for my pent-up lust. I’d come so hard it almost hurt, and there’s no way in hell any other guy is taking her virginity, but I want more of her than that. I’m hungry for her smiles, her laughter, and her bright view of the world. I want to fuck her until she screams, and then I want her to tell me about the Christmas when Santa brought her a stuffed penguin.

I’ve kept my sanity while living in isolation for years. But less than twenty-four hours with Josie Bennett, and I’m losing my mind. Losing my grip, my focus, my drive.

And I might be losing my heart—assuming I still have one.

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