Yeah, well, I don’t usually bring that out in people.
He could only surmise that she was sad to be leaving. And here he was, being his usual curt self in the face of all of this…generosity. She worked her ass off to feed the Poleys and he’d barely done her the courtesy of thanking her. With violent suddenness, his face heated. And he’d refused her a silly little dance.
He needed to say something.
In preparation, he inhaled the buttery scent of fresh pastries, and his mouth watered. Something smelled like Christmas. Cinnamon? Was that what that odor was? A neighbor used to bake them cookies when he was a kid, and they’d smelled exactly like this—only not nearly as fragrant.
Stop procrastinating.
He forced himself to speak. “Ms. Smith.”
She half turned to face him, expression blank, brows and chin lifted, ready for a fight. As if to illustrate how little he mattered, her hands continued their smooth slide, scraping steel to steel. His breathing picked up.
“I’m…sorry.” There. He’d said it. Or mumbled it at least.
He turned to go, plate only half-full, then sighed, swiveling back. Shit. The woman had fed him for the past few months, and though her presence perturbed him, hers was admittedly the best food he’d eaten on this continent. Or possibly anywhere. He shut his eyes, breathed in, and opened them again. “And thank you. For everything.”
He punctuated his words with a single nod.
Okay. Done.
Ignoring her open-mouthed expression, he took his plate and left the galley, intent on fueling up as quickly as possible and heading out to find Cortez.
Chapter 5
What was that?
Angel stared at the door, so tense waiting for a punch line that she jumped and nearly dropped her knife when it swung open again a couple seconds later.
The sight of Jameson barreling in deflated her—with relief. Probably.
“Saw Coop rushin’ off with a plate full of food.” He raised one red brow at her. “What’d you do to him?”
“Me?” The word came out a little too shrill. “Are you kidding with—”
“Yes, gorgeous.” He winked as he walked up and grabbed a plate. “Just teasin’. Coop’s the best man here, but Lord knows he’s not good with…”
What—words? Women? Mere human beings?
“…emotion.”
Squinting, she opened her mouth to grill him on what emotion she could possibly be responsible for but then stopped abruptly. There was that totally weird apology to consider, after all. Not to mention the most out-of-the-blue, awkward thanks she’d ever received.
She glanced at the door, thinking of the way Ford had stalked out, wolfing down his food.
Actually, “wolf” was a good description for the man. A lone one—fierce, unapproachable, with that rough, rarely used, gravelly voice. There was something kind of wolf-like, too, about his face with its broad, flat, angular features, lips that somehow looked both hard and curved, and square jaw. He was remote, stiff and smooth as sharply carved ice. Except when he looked her way.
She let out a humorless sound. Right. She alone was responsible for chiseling that extra line of annoyance between his eyes. The one that made him look angry.
What the hell had he thanked her for anyway? For slinging institutional food his way? For asking him to dance? And the apology? That was—
She caught Jameson’s eyes on her and quickly looked away, flushing hot.
Thankfully, Pam chose that moment to sail into the galley, followed by a couple researchers and a little cluster of interns. Pam’s “Hey, y’all!” led to a long, sappy breakfast, full of teary-eyed farewells and hugs in a quieter, more sober version of the night before.
“Didn’t realize leaving would be so hard,” Angel told her friend during a lull.
“Could just stay.” Pam grinned, knowing full well that wasn’t an option. She could return next summer, but cooks didn’t over-winter. From here on out, the crew fended for themselves.
I wish. The thought surprised her.
Behind Pam, some of the recent summer arrivals crowded in and Angel rushed to make more coffee.
Someone shifted and sidled up close to the food. Bradley Sampson, the new operations manager. Okay, so maybe she didn’t like everybody she’d met here.
“You gonna miss me, Angel?” His jaw tightened as he crunched down on one of the Life Savers he always seemed to be sucking on. The sound was like bones breaking.
“Sure.” She gritted her own teeth and moved back, wondering how he’d managed to enter her personal space with the food still between them.
“You really mean that?” She was always unsure how to respond to the guy. He shifted close enough to press his hips to the counter and leaned all the way over the glass divider, his voice friendly, expression innocent. “Sure wish we could take you with us.”
Angel went very still. Her skin prickled from the top of her head to her toes.
“What?”
“You know. ’Cause you’re leaving today?” He gave her a quizzical, innocent smile, but somehow even that got her heart racing.
“But you’re not.”
“Hm.” He winked.
“Okay,” she muttered weakly before heading back in search of something to do with her hands. What the hell? Had she misheard him? Because if she hadn’t, that was the weirdest—
The door opened and someone stuck their head in to yell, “Sky’s clear! Plane’s taking off from McMurdo!”
A cheer went up and everybody ran to get ready. No time to worry about what she had or hadn’t heard now.
With the help of a couple crew members, she quickly cleaned the kitchen and then stepped back to give her domain one last look. The shelves were a little sparse. And though she hated the supply arch with a passion, she wouldn’t leave the winter crew without supplies. One last task before she said goodbye to this place forever.
Heaving a sigh, she left her warm kitchen, suited up, and descended the long, dizzying spiral staircase that led from the central building to the supply arch, which housed dry storage, mechanical equipment, items needed for the field sites, and everything else that could be kept at a constant deep freeze. Sewage was packaged in one of the arches and prepared for removal. Jameson’s shop, where he and the other mechanics worked on equipment, was in yet another, while many of the researchers counted on the arches’ deep freeze to keep their field samples from melting.
Every clanging step took Angel farther underground, the air around her growing noticeably cooler. By the time she reached the bottom and pushed through the door into the yawning space, her eyelashes had frozen stiff.