Luke’s gaze turned serious. “Can we revisit the relationship thing once tornado season is over?”
“What?”
All their teasing and banter melted away. Guthrie struggled to keep up.
“We’ll just hold off until the off-season,” Luke said. “That’s only a little over a month away. Less if June is weak. I can’t imagine not having an excuse to see you, so I want one. But we can wait on the lovey-dovey stuff for a while.” Luke was talking fast, barely taking a breath.
“Hey, whoa. Slow down.” Guthrie pulled Luke off the dance floor. “Start over.”
“I like you. I maybe more than like you.”
“How many drinks have you had?” Guthrie asked, because he was a jerk, and because he was feeling vulnerable.
“Never mind.” Luke turned to walk off.
“No, wait. I like you too. A lot. I’m sorry.” Guthrie smoothed his hands over Luke’s shoulders. “I don’t understand what you’re asking for, though.”
“Let’s keep getting to know each other. We have good reasons not to want to complicate our working relationship right now, so we’ll wait until the off-season. I need you out there. I think we could be unstoppable as chase partners, for years to come. I want that so much, but I also want you outside of storm chasing. Let’s explore whether that’s a possibility once the season is over, once we don’t have the job between us. Then we can build that foundation back up without everyone’s eyes on us. Without the pressure.”
“You want to date and be chase partners, but no hanky-panky until July.”
“Exactly. The worst that could happen is we date over the summer, break up, and don’t partner together next year.”
“I’m only chasing this year because Mackenzie is on maternity leave. Next year is—” Guthrie blew out a noisy breath and shook his head. He didn’t want to think about next year, even as the prospect of spending another season with Luke held an odd enticement.
Luke growled low in his throat. “If this isn’t what you want, say so. This conversation has been a nightmare for me.”
Guthrie cupped Luke’s cheeks. “Yes. I’m in.”
“Yes? That’s all you’re going to say, Guthrie Gale? I poured my heart all over the fucking dance floor!” Luke’s lips tipped up at the edges, betraying his angry tone.
“I’m gonna kiss you. It’s going to have to last us for weeks, evidently.”
“Come and get it,” Luke said, laughing.
Their kiss was bright as a lightning strike. Guthrie tried to push all of his emotions into it, into holding Luke steady and secure. Letting Luke know he was cherished.
Luke gasped when Guthrie’s tongue slid into his mouth. Guthrie had missed this. He didn’t know he could miss something he’d only had for minutes, for seconds, but he did.
When they finally pulled apart, Luke transferred the cowboy hat back onto Guthrie’s head and pressed one last chaste smooch to Guthrie’s mouth.
“’Night, cowboy.” Luke bit his bottom lip on a smile. “See you at work.”
Chapter Fourteen
The next morning, Luke woke up at four to get ready for his morning cardio buster class. He flipped the TV on so he could see Guthrie’s beautiful face.
Guthrie was a natural anchor, but his smile wasn’t as wide as normal. He wasn’t showing off that enticing flash of gums, not like he had last night.
As the morning meteorologist started the forecast, Luke went in search of electrolytes and breakfast.
“The Convective Outlook is at a level four, which is quite high,” the meteorologist said. “The Storm Prediction Center has issued a PDS Tornado Watch for the day for central Oklahoma. PDS means Particularly Dangerous Situation.” Luke rushed back into his living room and turned up the volume, his heart rabbiting. This did not sound good. The meteorologist continued, “This means that widespread severe storms are likely. The conditions will be ripe for hail and long-track tornadoes. I can’t stress this enough, prepare now for bad weather. Know where you and your family will be this afternoon, and what your plan is to get to a safe location. Making a plan now could save lives later.”
The meteorologist moved on to the extended forecast, and a sick rush of energy pulsed through Luke, filling him with prickly anticipation. Today was going to be a doozy. It was awe-inspiring to see intense weather events. They showed you how tiny you were in this big, wide universe, but they were dangerous too. The prospect of multiple supercells today sucked. A large tornado in a well-populated area almost always resulted in loss of life.
He and Guthrie were scheduled to shoot another video this morning, after which Guthrie would hopefully be able to take a nap before their afternoon of chasing started. Luke was tempted to cancel the video with Brad. Guthrie needed his sleep, and his wits, more than KTTY needed them to film the “Storm Chaser Bestie Test.”
He texted Guthrie before his workout class started to see if they should reschedule, but never got an answer. After teaching his classes, Luke worked the front desk for an hour before running home to pick up his stuff. He wanted to be prepared in case they needed to hit the road earlier than normal.
When he arrived at the station, Guthrie had just finished his last broadcast and changed into street clothes. Brad met them in one of the studios with a green screen.
“I didn’t see your message until about twenty minutes ago,” Guthrie said under his breath as Brad fixed the lighting. “Would have felt bad cancelling so late, but, man, that would have been nice.”
Luke rubbed between Guthrie’s shoulder blades. “I got you. Hey, Brad?”
Brad glanced up. “Yeah?”
“Can we be extra speedy today? We’ve got a long night ahead and Guthrie’s been up since two thirty. Would be good if he could get a nap in before the storms today.”
“Oh, sure. I promise not to futz around.”
“Thanks.”
Guthrie sent Luke that special smile, the wide one with the curled-up lip, as if Luke had conquered a mountain for him.
Brad explained that he would ask a question directed at one person about the other guy, they would both write their answers, then flip them around.
“It’s the Newlywed Game,” Guthrie said flatly.
“Yeah.” Brad shrugged.
Both Luke and Guthrie obediently took their notepads and Sharpies.
“First question is for Guthrie. Guthrie, what is Luke’s favorite food?”
They scribbled their answers and flipped them around. Guthrie had written, “Protein powder.”
“Oh, you jerk.”
Guthrie laughed and leaned forward to see Luke’s answer, which was “Lamb.”
“I’m going to remember that and make it for you sometime,” Guthrie said. Luke peeked at Guthrie in surprise. His words must have caught up with him because he turned red.
“Next one,” Brad said. “Luke, who is Guthrie’s favorite musician?”
With a laugh, Luke scribbled down, “Hates music. Only listens to NPR.”
When they revealed their answers, Luke was charmed that Guthrie’s was Dolly Parton. “Why Dolly Parton?” he asked.
“Anyone who doesn’t choose Dolly is suspect. She has a program that mails kids free books. It’s delivered over one hundred million. Also, Dolly can still get it.”
“Oh, can she?” Luke said with a laugh.
“Yeah.” Guthrie shook his head. “Are you going to have to edit that out because of the innuendo?” he asked Brad.
“What’s the innuendo?” Brad asked.
“That Dolly is sexy, which she is, and it should be celebrated.” A small silence followed Guthrie’s words. “I’m sorry. I’m so sleep-deficient right now.”
Luke bumped their shoulders together. “Let’s keep going.”
Brad walked them through more questions. They didn’t get a single one right.
“Storm chaser round,” Brad said. “Luke, what does Guthrie absolutely have to have on storm-chasing days?”
He wrote, “Healthy sn
acks.”
Guthrie cheered when they revealed their answers. His notepad said, “Snack food.”
Finally. One point.
“Guthrie, same question. What does Luke absolutely have to have on storm-chasing days?”
They scrawled their answers out. Guthrie wrote his very quickly. When they revealed, Guthrie’s pad said, “Me.”
Warmth rushed over Luke’s cheeks. He’d written, “My camera.”
“You wrote ‘me.’ Your ego is adorable,” Luke teased.
“If you didn’t have me, you’d be lost all the time. I’m your map and key.”
Luke caught Guthrie’s gaze and smiled. “That’s true. I’m changing my answer. We lose phone service often, and there have been several times Guthrie was familiar enough with the area to get us where we needed to go. If I’d been alone, I’d still be lost in the boonies somewhere.”
The truth was, Luke did need Guthrie. Guthrie was the most important puzzle piece in this whole storm-chasing bonanza. Yes, Luke could chase without him. He could deal with a new partner if he had to. But these weeks chasing with Guthrie were the first time he’d ever felt secure—in himself, in someone else. He felt like he could take a deep breath finally. He’d put up with past partners, but he hadn’t fully trusted them. He trusted Guthrie implicitly. In totality. Guthrie could tell him to drive into a body of water, and Luke would say, How fast and what’s the plan?
He never wanted to give that up.
Brad wrapped the video up with a few more storm-chasing questions, none of which they got correct. They were really bad at the Newlywed Game.
As soon as the camera was off, Guthrie closed his eyes and slumped. It was like he’d been switched off. “I’m so tired.”
Luke checked his watch. “We have three and half hours before we have to leave. You need a nap.”
Guthrie opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted by a huge jaw-cracking yawn.
Luke grabbed Guthrie’s hand and pulled him out of the room with a wave to Brad. When they made it to the parking lot, Luke asked, “Do you have your backpack?” Guthrie always brought a bag with gear—jacket, hat, first aid kit, flashlights, phone chargers—when they storm chased.
“Yeah. I wanted to have it in case I got hung up at the station.”
“Good. Let’s go back to my apartment. It’ll cut time off our drive to reach our target.” They were aiming for a barren spot on the map a couple hours southwest of Oklahoma City. Luke lived in the suburb of Moore, which was south of Oklahoma City, as opposed to Guthrie’s townhome in Edmond, which was north of it.
“And I can nap at your apartment?”
“Yeah. I promise not to disturb you.”
“We can nap together,” Guthrie said. “You had to get up early too.”
“We can try.” Luke wasn’t sure he trusted their ability not to fuck if they ended up back in bed.
As he drove Guthrie to his apartment, Luke realized no amount of horniness was going to keep Guthrie awake. He’d passed out, his head leaning against the window. The shadows under his eyes were stark.
Luke touched Guthrie’s shoulder after pulling into his designated parking spot. Guthrie gasped awake and glanced around like he wasn’t sure where he was.
The first words out of his mouth were “Gonna be bad today.”
“Who is?”
Guthrie blinked. “Not who. What. The weather. I can feel it.” He tapped the space between his ribs. “Here.”
Luke cupped his cheek. “We’ll be okay. Right now, you need to sleep.”
Guthrie nodded and followed Luke into the apartment. Luke herded Guthrie through the living room and into his bedroom.
“Oh.” Guthrie’s voice was soft and shocked. He approached the desk in the corner.
Luke stiffened, realizing what had caught Guthrie’s eye.
“I’m your screen saver.”
“Uh, yeah.”
It was the picture he’d taken of Guthrie after their first chase together when he’d been standing on the Skydance Bridge, green apple in one hand, a spiderweb of lightning behind.
To some, it might have been hard to recognize Guthrie in the photo. His face was shadowed and it wasn’t close up. But Luke had seen Guthrie lean on many a wooden fence like he was leaning on that bridge wall. Luke had watched Guthrie hold an apple loosely in his deft fingers about ten different times. He’d memorized the shape of Guthrie’s face. The strength of his profile—his straight nose and square chin, his generous mouth.
“You told me I wasn’t in that shot,” Guthrie said. His voice had morphed from shock to wonder, which was better than the accusation Luke had expected.
“Yeah, dude, I lied. I’m not selling that image, if you’re worried about it. Wanted it for myself.”
“1-0.”
“Oh, I don’t think so. Chase hasn’t started yet. Let’s nap.”
Guthrie pulled himself away from the computer, crawled beneath the covers, and closed his eyes.
“You had such a crush on me,” Guthrie said, his voice slow and singsongy. “Takin’ my picture.”
“Yeah.” Luke changed into a pair of sweats and got into bed.
They faced each other, a few feet of space between them. Guthrie’s eyes were shut, and he was breathing slowly. Luke set several alarms for them and closed his eyes too.
“I almost kissed you that night,” Guthrie said suddenly. “The night of the lightning.”
“Why didn’t you?”
Guthrie hummed. “Didn’t like you much.”
“Whatever. I’m awesome.”
“I was scared.” Guthrie reached for Luke’s hand, twining their fingers together. Then, before falling asleep, he said, “I’m so tired of being scared.”
Guthrie had slept like the dead and felt groggy and brittle around the edges when he’d woken up. It was going to be a long day.
Chaser Chat plodded along as they neared their stopping point. All the different teams were trying to reach their targets quickly, and there was anticipation in the air, even via chat.
Guthrie hated it.
“Want another bite of brownie?” he asked Luke.
Luke nodded with a grin and opened his mouth. The brownie was sticky, and Luke had said he didn’t want to get the steering wheel dirty. Guthrie had been humoring him because humoring Luke was normally fun. Guthrie broke off a piece of the brownie and popped the morsel past Luke’s lips. Luke’s happy little hum as he chewed was dirty as fuck, but Guthrie could barely enjoy it.
Since he hadn’t gone back to his house after his morning shift, they didn’t have their normal array of healthy snacks. They’d stopped at a gas station and loaded down with junk.
What if changing their food ritual had jinxed them?
Guthrie shook his head. He’d been uneasy from the time he’d woken up and seen the storm predictions. His worry was turning into this big uncontrollable ball in his stomach, getting larger and larger as they made it farther out of town.
“Hey, stop freaking,” Luke said.
Guthrie narrowed his eyes at him. “I’m not.”
He was.
“You’re chewing on your lips like they’re a meal.”
“Oh.” Guthrie touched his mouth. He’d been combing his teeth over his lips again and again, and they were sore and ravaged. Not in a good way. “I don’t know why I’m nervous.”
“We’ll be fine. You trust me?”
“Yes,” Guthrie said, and was surprised to find it true. He’d trusted Luke to take care of him in bed that night all those weeks ago, which had been hard. Trusting him here, in this truck, with bad weather gathering on the horizon, was harder.
“Good. Where’s our next turn?”
They were shooting for Apache, but had decided to take the route that didn’t have tolls, which was longer and rural.
“A few miles.”
Guthrie updated the weather maps on the laptop and the radar on his phone. There were four separate storm fronts, and KTTY had sent several tea
ms to each. But it spread the teams thin for coverage. Two of the storm cells were building up conditions that were more favorable for tornadoes. Theirs—the most southern—wasn’t one of them.
“Think we’ll get pulled?” Luke asked.
“Maybe. The storm northwest of here looks more severe, and the chasers on our storm would be the closest to it if they need more hands on deck out there.”
Right as Guthrie said that, Chaser Chat pinged. Seth had decided to pull some chasers off the southern storm, but not Guthrie and Luke.
“André and Brit are getting sent northwest, but we’re to stay with this one until it peters out,” Guthrie said.
“Who else does that leave on our storm?”
“No one.”
Luke glanced at Guthrie quickly. “Wouldn’t be the first time that’s happened to us. Probably means they’re not expecting this one to produce but want us here in case.”
That was definitely what it meant, but Guthrie’s chest tightened with apprehension. Slim had called that feeling a premonition, had said Guthrie was a tornado whisperer. Slim was also an asshole, so Guthrie should not take his words seriously. Not at all.
They arrived in the small town of Apache. Guthrie directed Luke to the lake south of town. They parked near a boat ramp, and Luke lowered the windows, settling in for a wait. At least the view wasn’t bad. Not spectacular—a muddy creek meeting a muddy lake—but it was better than nothing.
They listened to NPR for a while, which helped stem the rising dread in Guthrie’s blood, but after an hour, he was fidgety.
“You want to talk about last night?” Luke asked.
Guthrie rolled his head on the headrest toward Luke. “Do you?”
Luke’s smile was mischievous. “I brought it up.”
“Okay. Let’s make sure we’re on the same page. We’re storm-chasing partners and platonic friends who are attracted to each other. Right?” Guthrie said tartly.
“That’s correct, but my feelings are a tad stronger than attraction.”
Guthrie waved that away. “Then, once the last twister blows through the state, we’ll fuck again.”
“Date. We’ll date.” Luke’s voice was so deep and sincere that Guthrie flushed for being flip.
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