by Tl Reeve
“Yeah, sorry about that,” Dexter said, placing the meat on the grill. “I’d gotten off the phone with Brittney and it kind of caught me off guard too.”
“She’s the one, huh?”
Pops' question shocked Dexter. He didn't know. The chemistry between them was out of this world and if she allowed it, he'd take it farther, however, there were more important things for him to worry about. They—Brittney and him, we're taking it slow, with their priority being Rai. Plus, right now didn't feel like the right time. There was a monster of a storm coming and though he wanted her with a desperation he'd only felt one other time—in the bar with her—he didn't think they could afford any distractions.
“Can’t say,” Dexter answered. “We haven’t, you know.”
“Done the deed?” Pops chuckled. “Can’t say I blame you.”
“This has more to do with the storm then getting my dick wet,” Dexter said. “Besides, we have a son together that she raised on her own. Not like I have any right stepping back into her life asking for more.”
Pops nodded. “Had to be hard on her. Looks as though she did well for herself and the boy seems happy too.”
Dexter glanced inside the house. Brittney stood in the living room surrounded by his team and hers. She had a beer in her hand as though it were any other day and a storm wasn't barreling down on them. She was relaxed. The tension in her body when he'd first arrived home bled away between the time he told her everyone would be there by seven and when they all started to arrive. Brittney laughed at something Buff said and jealousy reared its ugly head. Dexter never took himself for the type to get upset when another man talked to a woman he'd been interested in, but with her... All bets were off. “She does.”
Pops nodded before taking a swallow of his beer. “So, about this storm.”
“Bad according to Brittney.” Dexter flipped the chicken and steaks then placed the hot dogs on the top basket of the grill so they wouldn’t burn. “She’s been working her ass off trying to plot its course.”
Pops grunted. “Not good.”
“No. Not only should we be worried about mudslides due to the fires but flooding and tornadoes.” Dexter tapped on the glass and motioned for the others to come outside. If he was having this conversation, he was doing it once and with everyone.
“Everything okay out here?” Brittney asked, exited through the sliding door.
“I’m getting old and antsy,” Pops said. “I didn’t want to wait anymore for this big storm information.”
“I see,” Brittney answered. “Well, give me five minutes and I’ll have everyone outside.”
“Sounds great,” Dexter replied. “Food should be ready by then.”
“Call Rai for me. I grab all the fixings and plates.” Brittney stepped back inside and went straight to the kitchen.
“Are you sure you want everyone to hear this?” Dexter asked.
Pops shrugged. “They’re going to hear it eventually. It’s why you invited Angie, isn’t it?”
True. It had been. If they were going to save their little community, they had to be prepared. However, sometimes, the information could be shocking and make people panic. Withholding the information though could end up biting them in the ass in the long run. Plus, if they were going to protect everyone they had to have a plan in place. “Yeah, it is.”
“I'll go get the boy.” Pops patted him on the shoulder. “You're overthinking this.”
Which part, he hadn't a clue. If Pops meant the situation between him and Brittney, he couldn't stop thinking about her. Hadn't since the night he met her. The sound of her laughter and the image of her smile got him through some seriously dark moments when he'd been in the sandbox. The idea of her being out there someone, laughing and enjoying her life, helped him get through his bouts of depression and the anguish of losing his best friend. Stupid. What does a smile have to do with bringing someone out of a bleak hole, but for him, it worked. Of course, he didn't say how he felt to anyone. It was too weird and for sure someone would think he'd gone insane and, sometimes, he still felt as though he did. For all he knew, he was making up this part of his life and he lived inside some mental institution—like that St. Elsewhere show, with the kid and the snow globe.
“You’re thinking awfully hard,” Brittney said, coming up beside him. “You okay?”
He nodded. “Yeah. I have a ton of shit swirling in my brain is all.”
“Well, I contributed to it,” she said. “I’m sorry I’ve been so secretive about the storm. I hate jumping to conclusions.”
“I don’t think you are with this storm.” Dexter opened the grill. “Can you hand me the clean platter off the table, please.”
“Sure.” She grabbed the dish then handed it to him. “You know, not everyone thinks as you do. Have you seen some of the comments these weather people get for interrupting sitcoms on a Wednesday night?”
He hadn't paid attention. “Bad?”
“Disgusting more like it. God forbid a weather person gets it wrong, or not right enough for people.”
“Wait,” Dexter glanced at her, “what do you mean not right enough?”
Brittney laughed. “When they don’t get the amount of rain or snow or severity of the storm right. Or worse, when they cut into shows or ball games, because of severe weather. It’s ridiculous.”
“Jesus, people are selfish and stupid.”
“Tell me about it. We won't even get into the comments female forecasters are sent daily as well. When people ask how some people can act so inconsiderate in times of need, well, I can show you comment after comment filled with their ignorance. It's sad.”
Dexter shook his head as he placed the food on the platter then closed the grill. “We’re good to go here.”
“Looks delicious.” Brittney took the platter from him and placed it on the table. “I should say thank you again for being so understanding about us taking over your house.”
Dexter waved her off. “I’m glad I could help out.”
Once everyone was sitting and they’d began to eat, Brittney explained the situation at hand. The storms were strong. Stronger than they had been in a long time. These wouldn’t be EF1 or EF2 tornadoes either. There was a real possibility of several long-tracking EF5 tornadoes touching down. Shock filled Dexter. Sure, they’d had their fair share of shitty weather over the years, but the idea it could wipe Tarpley off the map? Or Bandera? Add in the fact the storm cells could recycle as the system went into the southern states and tear them apart once more, left him speechless.
“I wish I had better news,” Brittney said. “But, unfortunately, I don’t. If I had to pinpoint where one might hit, it’s Tarpley.”
“How for sure are you?” Buff asked, sitting back in his chair.
“We’re about 93% sure,” she answered. “Weather, like earthquakes or hurricanes aren’t completely predictable.”
“But, you believe Tarpley will be hit?” Pops hedged.
“With each new cycle of the updated radar, yes, I grow more confident in my assessment.”
“She’s not wrong,” Angie pipped up. “She was in Clark when they got hit. Saw it on the news. This girl has chops.”
Pink tinged Brittney’s cheeks and a zap of arousal snapped across Dexter’s skin. He’d experienced the same sensation when he laid his eyes on Brittney at the diner. It’d been like a thread of recognition and excitement set him on fire—a baser instinct of realizing she was his and he had to have her. “I believe her assessment too.”
“I don't think any of us don't,” Pops said. “It's a hell of a way to tell someone they're about to lose everything they own within the next thirty-six hours if not sooner.” He glanced up at the sky and pointed it. “No clouds.”
“It’s back building,” Brittney said, drawing her bottom lip between her teeth. “A better way of describing it for you would be a backdraft, I think. Does that make sense?”
“You’re saying this storm is starved for oxygen and when it hits the o
xygen it’ll explode?” Ross asked.
“In the simplest of terms. Only, for a storm like this to pop off right, two different fronts have to collide in the right way at the right time.” She raised her left hand. “Pretend this is the low coming at us,” she then lifted her right hand, “and this is the high sitting over Oklahoma and Texas right now. Because of how the cut off low formed, it's building intensity by eating its fuel while trying to organize. Once it reaches the high, it has fresh fuel for the storm, however,” she clapped her hands together, “everything in the middle of it is chaos in its purest form. The hot and cold air war for dominance and when they meet at the right second, the winds crashing into each other form the basic vortex for a tornado.”
Short shit whistled. “Nasty.”
Brittney nodded. “It can be. I keep hoping at some point we’ll get a radar loop showing the values increasing, not lowering.”
“Why do you want the numbers to go up?” Pops asked.
The higher the numbers, means the storm is weakening. It'll be too energy-starved and won't be as severe, and we'll have dodged a giant bullet. Unfortunately, as it stands, the storm keeps building.”
“What do you need from us?” Angie asked.
“First and foremost, you’re going to have to transfer all patients who can be moved out of the area. Those who can’t be, need to be sent to the lowest part of the hospital for their safety before the storm arrives. Once it hits, there’s nowhere for anyone to go.” Brittney frowned. “I wish we could have seen this sooner. We could have helped all of you plan better.”
Angie shook her head. “That’s a start and it’s better than nothing. Dexter and I can form a proposal and send it to the director of the hospital so we can begin preparations. Do you think you can get me a letter or something, showing what’s coming down the pike?”
“Sure. I guess,” Brittney replied. “Give me a few hours. I have another update with NOAA and NWS for the surrounding area soon.”
Pops held up his hand. “You're doing what you can now. As long as the media reports it, we'll get the rest in place.” He stood then. “You heard her. We're going to be in for a world of hurt. This means all of us will have to get to the VFD when the storm passes. Keep your radios on at all times. Call out when the coast is clear. Those who are stuck will be picked up along the way. I'll keep one of the trucks at the ranch just in case. We'll leave the other vehicles in the garage and, if need be, we can pull them out with the backhoe. Tarpley is going to be counting on us. Austin and San Antonio will be counting on us as well Bandera. We can't let them down.”
Chapter 8
After everyone left for the night and Rai was settled in his room with his Switch and laptop, Dexter found Brittney in the kitchen finishing up the dishes from the barbecue. The tension in her shoulders and the way she stood there, slumped slightly, showed him how exhausted she was. Since the moment she arrived in Tarpley, she’d been working. She was entitled to a break, even if it didn’t seem possible.
She threw herself into her job, he realized, while watching her on the last call of the night with NOAA. Her sole thought was on saving lives and damn if he didn’t find it a turn on and admirable at the same time. She could have been the perky weathergirl she claimed she wanted to be all those years ago and pranced around like a vapid woman even though she had an education. Instead, she was a warrior badass storm chaser.
After the conversation they had, Dexter knew Mitsy would have a shit fit if she ever found out about Brittney storm chasing. It wasn’t safe by any means, and Brittney called the shots, not some man who’d expect her to kowtow to him. Mitsy wanted a meek, airhead for a daughter who’d marry into bigger money and add to her status, not Brittney’s. They were rich, after all, and at the time, when he met Brittney, she did have a Cher—the rich socialite in the movie Clueless—like air about her. However, the spark in her blue eyes when he sat across from her in the hotel, he’d see the person she’d become and fuck if she wasn’t perfect. The joy of being a weathergirl morphed into an unwavering need to protect others.
He came up behind her and inhaled. The scent of rose water drifted from her and nostalgia rolled through him. The night he met her in the bar had been one of the best nights of his life and worse. He’d been young, dumb, and full of cum. Thirty feet tall and invincible. Together, they were lost in each other’s arms, giving each other what they needed at the moment.
Now?
He didn’t know. He stared at her with a new perspective. He was older. Hardened. Nothing would ever be as cut and dry as it was when he was younger. He saw everything in shades of grey. Plus, she’d also been through her own shit. Shit, had he known what happened, she wouldn’t have had to deal with alone. Yes, he recognized her friends helped, but it was his responsibility. His child she raised on her own and it shamed him to think she had to go it alone.
“Hey,” he whispered. “You don’t have to do this.”
She glanced over her shoulder. “I know, but it’s the least I can do.”
He snorted, turning her away from the soapy basin. “You’ve done more than you can imagine.”
“Why do I have a feeling we’re not talking about the same thing?” She tilted her head up.
“We’re not. You’ve done more than you should have.” This time he added a bit more conviction to his words.
Pink spread across the tops of her cheeks. “Dexter, I—”
He bent his head and pressed his lips to hers. A soft groan filled his throat the minute he touched her. He’d been desperate for this since the moment he saw her at the hotel. One kiss hadn’t been enough to cool his heated blood. It’d only made it worse. Combustible. The word drifted through his mind, reminding him of how potent they were together. They would burn each other to the quick. Brittney sighed and opened to him, allowing him to deepen the kiss. Instead of pushing the tempo, he didn’t rush it. He took his time exploring her.
Dexter wrapped his arms around her back and pulled her away from the sink. He sat her on the small kitchen table and continue to devour her soft moans and gasps of pleasure. His head spun and his heart pounded. The heated pleasure of having her in his arms hadn’t diminished over the years. He still wanted to rip her clothes off and fuck her until the raging arousal burning through his veins cooled. Yet, there was also a maturity there. He wanted to shelter her. Protect her. Start a life with her. Give her the family she’d been missing since the bullshit with her mother stripped her of it.
Maybe have another child—fuck, get it together. She probably doesn’t want any more. She nibbled on his bottom lip then ran her tongue across it, drawing him out of his wayward thoughts. Dexter groaned, tightening his grip on her hip. Jesus. “I don’t think I can stop this time. Tell me no, Brittney. Tell me to walk away.”
“I can’t,” she whispered, pressing her forehead to his chest. “It’s crazy. I shouldn’t want this. I—this isn’t the life I had planned out.”
He chuckled, stroking the flesh of her hip. “I think your plans went up in smoke the day we had sex in a bar bathroom.”
She snorted and shook her head. “Touché.”
“I’ll never push you into anything,” he murmured, tipping her head up. “You’re in control here.”
She frowned. “I wish you would.”
Her words stunned him. “Why?”
“I think too much and too hard.”
“Ah.” Dexter caressed her cheek. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I have condoms this time.”
“Oh, God.” She scrubbed her face. The tinge covering her cheeks deepened to crimson. “I wouldn't have thought about it. It's like a running theme when I'm with you.”
“I won’t ever put you at risk again,” he replied. “Can’t say being inside you bare wasn’t the best moment ever, but I also know you went through too much shit because I couldn’t wait to get my dick inside you.”
“Can we not talk about the past and just stay in the here and now?” She looked up at him. “Every ti
me we bring it up, it kind of, you know...”
“Sure.” He kissed her again. She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer to her.
His head spun. He lifted her without breaking the kiss and carried her to his room. Dexter kicked the door to his room shut behind him and continued to his bed. He broke the kiss momentarily to remove his shirt and her breath hitched. Pride filled him. He took care of himself, making sure to stay in shape for his job. She ran her fingertips over the hard plains of his chest and stomach, causing the muscles to bunch and flutter.
He groaned. “Like what you see?”
Humor sparkled in her blue eyes as she bit her lip. “I do. Better than I could have ever imagined.”
“I love the ego boost.” He pushed her back onto his bed while climbing up onto it. “But, I think you’re a little overdressed.”
Brittney’s heart hammered. She wasn’t the skinny twenty-something socialite any longer. She had scars from her stretch marks and extra stomach skin that never went away no matter how much she worked out. Her boobs were a bit bigger and not as perky. She didn’t look like Dexter. Not fit or put together. She was a saggy-about-to-hit-middle-age woman. “I’m not the same.”
“Didn’t figure you would be,” he answered.
She blinked at him as he removed her shirt. His gaze consumed her and swirled with lust as he licked his lips and buried his face between her breasts. She let loose with a strangled noise crossed between pleasure and surprise. She arched to him, palming the back of his head. The desperate little sounds coming from him as he nipped and licked the valley between her breasts, startled her. She’d never heard another man make such a sound before. Brittney closed her eyes and hooked her legs around his waist. He rocked against her rubbing the bulge at the front of his pants against her center. Sparks of bliss bubbled in her blood. She clung to him as he moved down her body.
“You’re perfect.” He kissed her belly and nibbled at her hips while pushing the soft material of her pants out of the way. “You’re magnificent.”