Page 6 of Broken Bonds

That smile never wavers, but mischief flashes in her eyes. “Does that mean you’re going to show me the pot and beer stash? Or did the residential assistant already confiscate the good stuff?”

I feel something bubbling in my chest and I don’t know what it is until a bark of laughter bursts from my mouth. It startles me, and I immediately try to remember the last time I laughed out loud, and…can’t.

Samantha looks very pleased with herself. “Oh, good, youdohave a sense of humor. Here I was afraid you were just a grump all the time.”

I scowl at her. “You talk way too much.”

She nods. “Not the first time I’ve heard that.”

Rolling my eyes, I turn to lead her down the passage. “Well, I don’t like to talk, so don’t bother trying to have long-winded conversations with me. Find a mirror for that.”

She giggles behind me, and the sound is musical. “Why do I get the feeling that that’s a load of bull?”

“What do you mean?” I don’t look back at her and force myself to keep moving forward. I’m not supposed to be engaging with her at all, so why can’t I seem to keep my mouth shut?

“I think you actually do really like to talk,” she says. “In fact, I think you love to hear the sound of your own voice. You just don’t have time for anything anyone else has to say because you feel like most of the time, the person doesn’t know what they’re talking about.”

Bingo. She’s sharp, I’ll give her that.

“It’s not my fault most people are boring,” I huff.

I feel her move closer, and when I glance to the side, she’s mirroring my steps. She’s also gazing up at me, her smile so wide she’s showing off her perfectly straight, white teeth.

“I hope I prove a little more interesting than everyone else,” she teases.

She’s already more fascinating than she has any right to be. I don’t tell her that, though, and blessedly, we arrive in the kitchen at that moment. I proceed to show her around the facility, something I’ve never done for anyone before her. She seems fascinated by everything, even the most mundane things like the long-distance radio and water heater. She actually wants to know how the water is heated and how the system isn’t simply overwhelmed by the cold.

It has to be one of the most boring pieces of information I possess in my mind, but the look on her face makes it seem like I’m relaying an epic tale of adventure and danger. The woman has an obvious thirst for knowledge, and gulps down everything I offer her.

When we reach the greenhouse, she crosses the threshold of the door and lets out a soft gasp.

“Wow,” she whispers, gazing around at all the greenery I’ve been carefully cultivating these past few years. “This is…this is incredible.”

Actually, it’s pretty standard. Or rather, it would be if we weren’t in the middle of Antarctica. I could see how the sight of so many flourishing plants in the middle of this tundra would prove awing though.

We wander the length of the space and she stops in front of a few of my research specimens. I’ve been using plants in several of my experiments to study how energy is converted, and to see how the bonds it forms can be broken. She tilts her head and gazes at them intently.

“Are these part of your work?” she asks.

“What makes you think that?”

She glances at me with a little smile and points to the blossoming buds of my tiger lilies.

“Not a plant people usually grow for food,” she says. “Deductive reasoning would lead me to believe you wouldn’t waste space on something just because pretty. So, it probably has something to do with your research. Am I wrong?”

Damn, she’s quick. I hate how much I like that.

“You’re not wrong,” I tell her, but that’s all I tell her.

She turns to face me fully. “So, what are you researching all the way out here?”

I’m not surprised by the question, just annoyed. This is why it’s so much better if I’m able to have the place to myself. No prying eyes or intruding questions to deal with.

“Nothing all that groundbreaking,” I hedge. “Just energy distribution among living organisms. What about you?”

Classic redirection. Turning the question back on the person and giving them permission to talk about themselves usually works like a charm.

Samantha, though, gives me a suspicious look. She might be a little too sharp, I realize. I hold her gaze and wait to see how she responds. Will she push me for more info, or let it go?

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