“Why are you here?” I ask after a moment.
“Oh, right,” she says, setting the half-empty mug on the counter. “I was talking to Acca about finding someone to take me to the Steller sea lions breeding area, and she mentioned you.I’m a wildlife conservation grad student, working on my thesis on Steller sea lions during breeding season. I’m hoping that my research will help the senate see that building a resort on the island would be a critical mistake—for an endangered species and for this whole ecosystem. So, can you take me?”
She blinks up at me when she’s done. Such conviction in those eyes. Such certainty that facts and passion will be enough to move men who’ve already decided what they want.
I’ve known about the Monteith proposal for a while. I’d been working out how to fight it—using money where persuasion failed, outbidding the developer for the land itself if it comes to that. Making sure no resort ever broke ground on this island, one way or another.
But here she is, passionate with her naïve little idea to confront those ignorant men who believe too much in their own power. How can I say no and dim that light in her eyes? How could I?
“Alright,” I say, watching surprise bloom on her face. “I’ll take you to the area on the island where a small colony of the Steller sea lions has established a breeding ground.”
“Really?” she beams.
“It’s only a quarter of the size of the larger colony of another nearby island, but it should be enough for your study.”
“No, take me to the bigger one first,” she says, those pretty eyes widening with excitement. “I want to see the bigger colony. Please.”
“No,”
She blinks. Sabaak shoots me a look, and I ignore him.
“Why not?”
“Because it’s on a separate island. Uninhabited. Getting there means crossing open water and camping for days, and the weather out here isn’t what you’re used to in California.” I cross my arms. “The small colony will do.”
“The small colony is a quarter of the size.” She straightens, chin lifting. “My study needs to be comprehensive. If I’m going to stand in front of a senate committee and make a credible case, I need data from the primary breeding ground, not the satellite one.”
She’s not wrong. I don’t tell her that. “You didn’t have gloves on this morning.”
The flush that climbs her neck tells me the point landed. Good. “I bought new ones,”" she says. “I have them right here.” She holds them up as evidence.
“You have no idea what conditions are like out there. Even experienced people struggle.”
“Then it’s a good thing I have an experienced guide.” She sets the gloves on the counter and looks at me steadily. “I’m not asking you to carry me. I’m asking you to take me where the data is. I’ll keep up.”
“You’ll do what I say. Every instruction, no argument, no negotiating once we’re out there."
“I’ll be quiet as a mouse and do everything you say. I promise.”
Something fires in my gut at those words.I’ll do everything you say.She didn’t mean it that way—even if her voice did go a little throaty when she said it.
Fuck.
“If I say we turn back, we turn back. No pushback about needing more time or one more photograph.”
“Agreed.”
“And if you can’t handle the conditions—”
“I'll handle them.” Those blue eyes hold mine without flinching. “Mr. Hudson. I came to Alaska to spend two weeks camping on a remote island to save sea lions. I think I know what I'm signing up for."
I look at her for a long moment. Sabaak, the traitor, is watching me with what I can only describe as expectation.
I should say no. I can say no. I've said it to every other tourist who's shown up at my door with a variation of this same request. But hell, I can't bring myself to say those words to her.
“The weather promises to be calmer by morning,” I tell her, finally turning away before she can see whatever is happening on my face. “That’s the only reason I’m considering it. You’ll need serious gear—more than what you came with. I’ll have provisions packed.”
“Okay,” she says to my back. “Thank you very much. I can’t wait for tomorrow. Do I drive up here or—”
