Page 6 of Love in the Lab
“Aren’t we going on a boat?” Molly asks.
“Not today.”
I see a flicker of emotion cross her face, but it’s not relief. It’s … disappointment? Weird. Not that I know her expressions, so maybe I’m reading it wrong.
She stares at the rubber clothing. “I can’t wear this.”
“It’ll be big on you, but it’ll work.”
She shakes her head, her cheeks turning pink.
“Oh.” I set a wide-brimmed fishing hat on top of the pile in her arms. “You’ll need that, too.”
The pink on her cheeks turns to red and spreads up to her hairline. I brace myself for a tongue lashing, but instead she sets her jaw and moves to the back of the truck. When she starts shoving her shoes into the waders, I look away and refocus on putting on my own gear.
I’ve just gotten the suspenders on my waders fastened when she appears in front of me again, hands on her hips. As soon as I realize what I’m seeing, I crack up. I can’t help it.
I’ve never noticed howtinyMolly is. The spare waders swallow her whole. I’m six feet tall, and she’s got to be a good nine inches shorter than me. The extra material bunches around her ankles, and even though she adjusted the suspenders to the smallest setting, the bib still sits under her um … let’s just say chestal region. The built-in boots are clown shoes on her.
Between the oversized clothes and the furious expression she’s wearing behind her big round glasses, she looks freaking adorable. I can’t stop laughing.
Molly scowls at me, her dark eyebrows pulled down just above the bright blue of her eyes, and her lips pursed into an attractive cupid’s bow. Suddenly lightheaded, my laughter dries up. I suck in a breath. I really shouldn’t find a scowl so enticing. What is wrong with me?
I take a beat to refocus my thoughts.Water samples. Right.
“Follow me.” I tip my head in the direction of the water, carting the cooler containing the sample bottle with me.
Molly clomps behind me, trying to walk in the huge boots. I bite back a smile. When I turn to check on her, she’s gritting her teeth, a stoic and determined edge to her movements. If this is going to be a long-term arrangement, I’m going to tell Dr. Gantt that Molly needs her own set of waders, ones that fit her properly.
When we get to the water’s edge, I drop the cooler after taking out the sample bottle we’ll be using. I’ve already filled out thelabel on the sample bag, marking the sample as being from this location, with the date, and what to test for.
Because our lab focuses on harmful algal blooms, we’re looking at the nutrients in the water, along with the presence of pesticides or hydrocarbons. We track the levels over time from strategic sites around the area. If the nutrient level drops or the pesticides and hydrocarbons increase, harmful algal blooms are more likely to develop.
Molly follows me as I wade out until the water hits just below my knees. I sneak a glance and, again, have to smother a smile. Because she’s so much shorter than me, the water reaches halfway up her thighs.
It’s too good not to document. Sliding the bottle under my arm, I reach into the front of my waders and fish my phone out from a pocket in my shirt.
Holding it up, I call, “Say cheese!” Before she can protest, I snap a picture. When I review it on my phone screen, I grin. The look she’s giving the camera—giving me—is murderous. It’s perfect.
I’ve given some thought to how I want to handle working with Molly out here in the field. She’s thoroughly knowledgeable about the theory behind all the processes we’re doing, likely she’s even done them before, even if it’s been a while. I don’t need to patronize her with explanations of the why of things she can put together herself. It will be better to have her watch me go through the process, and I can answer any questions she has.
Tucking my phone away again, I instruct, “Okay, Molly, stand downstream from me and watch.”
I dunk the bottle, with the cap still on, into the water upstream from us. When the bottle is about halfway down, with plenty of space beneath the microlayer on top, I unscrew the cap underwater and let the bottle fill all the way up. Air from the bottle bubbles to the surface. I screw the cap back on and pullthe bottle out of the water. Unscrewing the cap again, I dump the water downstream. Then, I repeat the process three more times, except on the fourth time, I don’t dump the water. The first three fill-ups are to rinse the bottle with the sample water, and the fourth is to actually get the sample.
I turn back to Molly and raise my eyebrows. “Any questions?” She shakes her head. “Do you want to try one?”
I hold out the bottle to her, and she takes it. She moves upstream of me and then waits a few minutes for the sediment from her steps to settle. She uncaps the bottle and dumps it behind her. After the cap is back on, she runs through the whole process—even filling and dumping three times, though I’ve already done that, so we know the bottle has already been rinsed.
“I went through the process as if you hadn’t already,” she explains. “To practice.”
I meet her eyes. “I figured. So, the last step is—”
“Put it in the sample bag and put the sample bag in the cooler?”
“You got it.” I smile and to my surprise, she smiles back at me. As much as her scowl affected me earlier, this rare smile throws me more. Her blue eyes shine brighter and crinkle at the corners. We’re standing only a couple feet from each other in the water, so I’m close enough to notice that when she smiles, one eye stays open slightly more than the other. I stare a little too long.
She steps away and holds up the bottle. “I better get this in the cooler.”
