Winning Love

by Abby Niles

  “Gayle!” He moved out of the way to let her by. “What the hell are you doing running around in a storm like this?”

  Another shiver went through her as she stepped inside and held up a cup, also dripping water. But she smiled. “I was making cookies and realized I was out of sugar.”

  What the fuck? He glanced at the monsoon outside. “And it couldn’t wait? What the hell are you doing here anyway? I thought you left.”

  “No, not yet. As for the sugar, thought I’d be able to make it here and back before the sky opened. Guess I was wrong.” She sent him another smile. “So. Sugar?”

  He stared at her and realization dawned. “I don’t need babysitting, Gayle.”

  “What are you talking about? I need sugar.”

  He lifted an incredulous brow at her, which she returned in spades, then shook the cup at him. “Sugar, Mac. Please.”

  He’d give her mad props, she was damn convincing, but no matter how much she wanted to deny it, he didn’t believe her trek through a downpour and crazy wind was because she wanted to bake any damn cookies. He took the cup from her and went to the cabinet. After he dried it out and filled it with sugar, he turned back to find her with her arms wrapped around her body, shivering.

  He put the cup on the counter. “You’re going to be stuck here for a while. Let me get you something dry to put on.”

  The fact she didn’t argue was just more proof she’d come over here for him. What was she worried about? He’d tear up Lance’s house? His eyes cut over to the pool of beer and shards of glass on the floor. Meh. Maybe she had a reason to be concerned.

  After he tugged a T-shirt off a hanger, he snatched a pair of jogging shorts out of the drawer. The shorts probably wouldn’t fit her, but he took them anyway and handed them to her. Mumbling thanks, she disappeared into the downstairs bathroom. The storm was still raging outside, but just having her here seemed to calm the horrific images that had tortured him.

  When she returned, a weird sensation crackled under his ribs. His black Zac Brown Band concert T-shirt was huge on her. Pretty much swallowed her whole. The hem reached right above her knees, while the sleeves were below her elbows.

  She was the most gorgeous sight he’d laid eyes on in a long time.

  She held his shorts in her hands. “Um. Yeah. These came to my shins. And as much as I’d like to look like Kid ‘n Play, it’s not really the time of year for costumes.”

  Taking them back, he chuckled. It felt good. Real good. The last time— Wow, holy shit. The last time he’d laughed was the night they’d slept together. “Somehow, I didn’t think they’d fit.”

  A crash of thunder shook the house and he went rigid.

  “Why don’t we find something to occupy ourselves?” Gayle suggested.

  “How long is this storm supposed to last?”

  She studied him for a moment, then sighed. “There’s a long line of them coming in. Could be hours.”

  “Is there a chance—Is that why you were packing your SUV earlier?”

  “I don’t chase at night, Mac. It’s dangerous. Rick and I are watching developments, preparing just in case. But this system… One can never be certain, but conditions are not really favorable for tornado formation. Doesn’t mean we won’t see a few crazy intense storms come through, though.”

  “Great.”

  She moved around him into the kitchen, then stopped abruptly. “Wow. Somebody had a party in here.” She glanced at him over her shoulder, a look of mock disappointment twisting her face. “I’m hurt I wasn’t invited.”

  Even though she was making light of it, embarrassment burned his skin. He’d lost control. Again.

  She seemed to sense his discomfort because she turned to face him. “Mac!” she said in a commanding tone that compelled his head up instantly. The intense way she regarded him took him aback.

  “It’s okay to be angry. Do not feel bad about it.” She held his gaze for a moment, then returned to the broken glass and beer. “I’m going to get this cleaned up.”

  “I’ll get it.”

  Without comment, she handed him the broom, and he got to sweeping.

  She left the room for a few moments and returned with an armful of towels. “I’ll put these in the wash after we wipe all the glorious beer you wasted off the wall and floor.”

  Mac felt the first tugs of a smile. Ten minutes later, she walked out of the laundry room next to the kitchen, folded her arms, and said, “Now what do we do?”

  Tapping a finger to her lips, she surveyed the room. “You know what?” she muttered, then squatted and opened a cabinet door. “Aha! Yeah.”

  She held up a bottle of vodka. “What do you say, handsome? Want to get smashed?”

  His eyebrows flew to his scalp. “Seriously?”

  “Hell, why not?”

  When was the last time he’d gotten a really good drunk on? It had been a damn hell of a week. “I believe in the fridge Lance has lemonade he made for Skylar.”

  Her eyes rounded. “Was it homemade?”

  “I…think so.”

  She started glancing around like a madwoman. What was she looking for?

  “Hell, yes!” she exclaimed as she put the Vodka bottle down and came back with a lemon in each hand. “Ever had a lemon drop?”

  Shots? She wanted to do shots? “Years ago. Like, culinary school years ago.”

  “Ever played Never Have I Ever?”

  A drinking game? “Again, years ago.”

  “Wanna?” A playful twinkle lit up her eyes that he couldn’t resist.

  “Shit,” he muttered with a defeated laugh. He was going to fucking regret this.

  “Awesome!”

  She went to work gathering everything, and within a few minutes she had two shot glasses, a plate of lemon wedges coated in sugar, and the bottle of vodka sitting out on the counter. She’d also put her iPhone on the deck, and fun, upbeat dance music drowned out the noises from outside.

  She poured the glasses full of the liquor, and asked, “Do you remember the rules?”

  “Refresh my memory.”

  “I say something I’ve never done, and if you’ve never done it you don’t have to drink, but I do. If you have…bottoms up.”

  “Ladies first.”

  She leaned forward, a mischievous look coming to her face. “Never have I ever fought in a cage.”

  A shocked laugh burst out of him. He shook his head and reached for the shot, eying her over the rim. “You play dirty.”

  She leaned back, smiling with pleasure. “Thank you.”

  He tossed the drink back, then bit into a lemon wedge. “Never have I ever gone to a traditional university.”

  Giving a nod of reluctant approval, she took her shot. “Now that we have the gimmes out of the way, let’s make this interesting.” She leaned forward again. Resting her elbows on the counter, she laced her fingers together and studied him. “Hmm. Never have I ever…gone streaking.”

  The random confession immediately brought a memory of him doing just that in his early twenties, drunk out of his mind. Ally had been horrified, but it was something they’d laughed over for years. A smile came to his lips now. The liquor burned on its way down.

  “Never have I ever bungee jumped,” he countered.

  Her nose scrunched as she lifted the tiny glass to her lip. Wow. The woman had bungee jumped. He shouldn’t be surprised. She raced tornadoes. They tossed a couple more never-have-I-evers at each other, where Gayle had to take both shots. Because, no, he had never gone to a bridal show, but she had entered a wet T-shirt contest. Crazy woman.

  Eyes slightly glazed, she studied him silently for a long moment, then inhaled deeply. “Never have I ever gone on vacation somewhere tropical.”

  His honeymoon. Two full weeks on the sandy beaches of Aruba. At the memory, warmth filled his chest. As he focused on Gayle, he almost laughed. She was swaying slightly in her seat. He tossed back the shot.

  “Never have I ever been interested in weather.”
Poor woman was two shots up on him.

  She slammed the little glass down, and slurred slightly, “Never have I ever had sex in a strange location.”

  “Really? Not once?” Well, that was just…sad. He and Ally had gone through a phase where the whole idea of doing it somewhere where they could get caught was exciting. Man, he hadn’t thought about this stuff in a long time. He’d forgotten…

  Hell.

  He snorted softly and lifted his gaze to Gayle, realization dawning once again.

  She gave him a lopsided smile. “You’re onto my game, aren’t you, handsome?”

  Awe filled him. She’d made him think of the good—remember the good. “You really do play dirty.”

  She gave him a smug look, then her mood switched to a very unlike-Gayle seriousness. “The past isn’t all bad, Mac. You can’t repress the good memories and focus only on the bad. When is the last time you thought about your wife with a good memory?”

  The question stunned him silent for a moment. “How do you—”

  “I’ve lost people I love, too, remember?” she interrupted.

  Yes, she had. “A very long time. How did you know what to say to trigger the memories?”

  She shrugged. “The streaking, I gambled on. You just seem like you would’ve been the type. I was wrong about the bridal show. Thought since you’d been married, you’d been dragged to one. The other two I just kept the subject broad enough so almost anything could fall under it.”

  “We eloped, ran off to Vegas. Got married by Elvis.” Another smile came to his face. Damn. It felt awesome to think about her without fighting. To actually smile as a good memory came to the surface instead of allowing the bad to dominate his mind. He returned his attention to Gayle. “The sex one. Were you being serious about that?”

  “Oh, definitely.” His jaw dropped, but she swayed forward, an impish smile curving her lips. “It just depends on your definition of ‘strange location’.” She winked. Then she jumped off the stool. “I love this song!”

  The song was Bruno Mars’ Runaway Baby. Mac watched her dance around like a Muppet. The warmth he’d felt revisiting memories of his wife filled him again while watching Gayle. She really was amazing. Warm. Caring. Forgiving. Why hadn’t some man snatched her up? Were they all idiots in this state?

  In the field she was in, there had to be a lot of guys who were thrill-seekers like her, who wouldn’t hesitate to jump in an SUV and race straight into a hell that included flying houses and raining farm equipment, as though it was a bright sunny day.

  Why did it bother him thinking of Gayle being with someone like that?

  He had no future with her. He would never live in Kansas again. She would never leave. And the idea of being involved with a woman who willingly sought out the thing that had destroyed his life—it was incomprehensible. He would never open himself up to allowing a tornado to destroy him a second time.

  No, making sure to keep Gayle firmly in the friend zone was the only way it could ever be between them.

  Sudden brightness behind Gayle’s eyelids made her stir. Something tightened around her waist, bringing her closer to a hard wall. Blinking open her eyes, she winced against the dull ache in her temples and the cotton of her mouth. Damn vodka. She’d do it again in a heartbeat, though, if it brought back the softness that had relaxed Mac’s typically stern face. Giving him that had meant a lot to her. He’d spent so long dwelling on the bad. He needed to remember the good.

  Lifting her head, she studied the broad chest she was using as a pillow. Lord, when had she fallen asleep? She was such a damn lightweight, and doing that many shots back-to-back had hit her like a ton of bricks. She remembered dancing, the liquor scolding her for it, and running to the bathroom before she lost it right there in the kitchen.

  She closed her eyes. Well, at least Mac had been distracted.

  As she started to sit up, a squeeze on her hand stopped her. Her gaze shot to where it lay on his chest with his hand covering hers. She surveyed their positions. He was sitting up, with his head leaned back against the cushion, while she was nestled under his arm, his palm resting on the swell of her hip. How was she supposed to get up without waking him?

  Slowly she slid her hand out from under his. Swinging her legs over the side of the couch, she eased to the edge and watched him. The urge to caress the stubbled cheeks was almost overwhelming, but she kept her hands to herself.

  She’d almost not come to the house, had almost turned back, uncertain for the first time about what she should or shouldn’t do when it came to him. The skies opening up had pushed her forward. When he answered the door, his face had been alarmingly pale, his eyes haunted.

  If he’d been here alone…

  She shook herself. She didn’t even want to think about how this house would’ve ended up.

  A crash of thunder shook the house. Even in his sleep, Mac’s body tensed and he mumbled, “No.”

  Gayle froze. Should she wake him?

  Lightning brightened the room again, followed by another boom of thunder. A low moan came from him and he started to fidget, as if trying to escape an unseen menace.

  “Mac,” she whispered, touching his face to disrupt the dream.

  “No,” he moaned softly.

  Stomach knotting at the sorrow in his voice, she took his face between her palms and whispered his name again.

  “Ally.” A broken plea so full of distress, tears immediately sprang to her eyes.

  Ally. That had to be his wife’s name. Obviously, the man was more traumatized by how she’d died than he let on.

  Suddenly, he jerked, and his eyes popped open. While he took a moment to register his surroundings, she scooted away and fought to get herself under control, close to crying. He’d lost so much. Been through so much. Even more than she had. Yeah, she’d had to learn to live life without her family and Sam. Though she and Sam had been planning to get married after she finished her MA, she’d been living in Alabama while he stayed in Kansas. The long-distance relationship had never been an issue for them. As it was, she hadn’t gone to bed with Sam every night. Hadn’t seen him every day. The distance hadn’t lessened the excruciating pain caused by the silence of her phone after his death. The ache to receive just one more “Good morning, sunshine” text from him had been poignant.

  And then there was her family and the emotional black hole left behind in the house she had grown up in. She’d only returned to her family home a few times a year since going off to college, but even so, the house had never been the same again, after.

  But to have a person who was an intimate part of your daily life ripped from you—Gayle swallowed. It was hard to imagine. And to add to the agony, Mac had his own nightmarish experience to relive over and over again. She had been saved from all that.

  Hell, she’d never experienced a tornado in the way Mac had. Not even close.

  When he finally focused on her, she was sitting on the end of the couch farthest from him. She forced a playful smile on her lips, “Hey there, handsome.”

  She used the nickname intentionally. Anything to make him believe she hadn’t picked up on his nightmare. Those were for him alone. She wasn’t sure how often he had them, but having that kind of nightmare was hard enough to deal with, without knowing someone else had witnessed the ordeal.

  She should know.

  Shaking his head, he pushed up. “Don’t think I’ve woken up to that before.”

  “Really? Never? A sinfully sexy man waking from his slumber is so…rawr.” She clawed her fingers toward him, putting as much playfulness as she could into the sound and gesture, even though she didn’t feel frisky at all. She was relieved when a small smile twitched at the corners of his mouth, and the sadness faded from his gaze.

  Silence fell between them, and she sent up a silent thank-you when her cell phone rang. Considering it was two in the morning, it could only be one person.

  Even though taking this call in front of Mac was probably a bad idea, she could
n’t ignore it.

  “Time to roll?” she asked as soon as she had the phone pressed to her ear.

  “Yeah, it is. It’s big, Gayle. We’re looking at our first potential mass outbreak over the next few days.”

  All the ingredients needed for the formation of supercells had been brewing for a while, now. They’d known it would be any minute, which was why they’d gone ahead and loaded the SUV that afternoon.

  “All right. We need to be on the road by seven am.”

  “10-4, boss lady.”

  As she hung up, she had a hard time looking at Mac. She wasn’t ashamed of what she did. Quite the opposite. She took pride in helping people, and in the information she fed to the National Weather Service. But after seeing how affected he was by the storms, it was difficult to meet his eyes.

  “Do you need to leave?” he asked just as another clap of thunder boomed above them.

  She made herself face him. “No. I don’t have to be back at my place until right before seven.”

  Nodding, his gaze slipped off to stare at the wall as his nose scrunched. At length, he said, “I saw you packing earlier and heard a vehicle drive away. I’d thought you were already gone.”

  “Just preparing. We knew this was coming. That was probably Rick you heard leave.”

  Mac never took his eyes off the wall, odd expressions contorting his face. Deep-in-debate-with-himself expressions. What was going on in that mind of his? She remained silent. After a minute, she started gnawing on her bottom lip, after two, she finally asked, “What are you thinking?”

  He slowly turned and regarded her for the span of a heartbeat. “I’d like to come, too.”

  She stiffened. “Say that again?”

  “You did say I could join you on a chase. Correct?”

  “I did,” she said cautiously.

  “And we both know you didn’t come over here for sugar, Gayle. If you hadn’t come over here, I’m not sure what this night would’ve done to me. I’d already started to go to some bad places before you showed up. But you knew just how to distract me over the last few hours. Now I think maybe you’re right and I need to face this head-on…so I can move forward.”