The Weather Girl

by Amy Vastine

  Travis laughed. “I bet you can.” He let his hand brush against hers, wondering what it would be like if she let him hold it the rest of the way. The contact caused her to lose her concentration and step on a crack. His ability to affect her made him a little smug.

  Summer avoided his touch by lifting her hand to push some hair behind her ear. “When I was little, I used to wake up and run to the window to see what the weather was like outside. I needed to know. Didn’t matter if it was Christmas morning or my birthday—the weather was the most important thing.”

  “But I thought you could feel it, you know, if it was going to rain and all?”

  “I feel rain coming. Like with the rest of you mere mortals, all other weather conditions are a complete mystery to me.”

  “Sounds like you fancy yourself something of a superhero, huh? The weather girl, here to save the day.” He said it with affection, not mockingly. “I can’t believe you don’t work at some big weather research facility, investigating and protecting the innocent from the big, bad, evil storms. Why work here—” he held his arms out and spun in a circle“—where the weather is pretty much always like this?”

  Summer stopped walking. “There’s nothing wrong with working here. I like it in Abilene. My family is in Abilene. I don’t know why I need to justify why I am happy to work in Abilene! As if working somewhere else would be so much better. Like storm chasing is—” She stopped talking and started moving again. She blew past Travis like a gale-force wind. He had no idea what he had said to upset her. Truthfully, he didn’t want Summer to work anywhere but KLVA.

  “Hey,” Travis said, touching her arm as he jogged up next to her. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to work here. I like working in Abilene, too.”

  Summer shook her head and rubbed her forehead as though she had a bad headache coming on. “I think I need some food. Hunger makes me cranky.” She tried to give him a smile, but it didn’t come off quite right. Something was weighing heavy on that mind of hers.

  Merle’s Café was stamped across a deep red awning on a corner building two blocks from the station. Two small wrought-iron tables with matching chairs sat outside as a makeshift patio. A wood placard covered in chalkboard paint sat just outside the door, welcoming people in with a drawing of a steaming cup of coffee and a list of the day’s specials.

  Travis held the door open for Summer, and she thanked him quietly as she brushed against him lightly.

  The hostess recognized both of them and seated them immediately. Travis slid into the worn red vinyl booth and looked around. Merle’s had a 1950s feel. Travis wondered if that was because it hadn’t been updated since 1950. The late-evening sun cast its orange-yellow rays across the dingy black-and-white tiles on the floor. Aluminum signs advertising Coke for ten cents a bottle hung on the walls, along with pictures of downtown Abilene back in the day. What Merle’s lacked in ambience, it made up for in food. The smells coming from the kitchen and the tables and booths nearby made Travis’s mouth water. This was down-home cooking at its finest. Summer sure knew how to pick a place.

  The waitress handed over the menus while going on and on about attending the State Championship game Travis had played in as a sophomore. It took a request for some ice water to get her to move on.

  “So it sounds like sports reporting has become something you want to do now,” Summer said, the menu blocking her beautiful blues from his.

  “The better I get, the more I like it. Maybe ESPN will come knocking soon and I’ll be off to New York or wherever their studio is.”

  The menu she was using as a shield tipped down just enough for her eyes to meet his. “Is that so?”

  He shook his head, grinning. “Like you said, there’s nothing wrong with working here in Abilene.”

  “Great. I’m never going to get my thirty seconds back. I’m not sure I’ll survive.”

  “You’ll survive.” Travis loved that she didn’t shy away from teasing him. The waitress arrived with their waters and took their orders. When they were alone and she had no menu to hide behind, Travis continued, with his dimples in full effect. “I think you’ve finally stopped hating me.”

  “I never hated you. I tried to hate you, but you’re too likable.”

  He liked that answer. He liked that answer a lot. “I am, am I?”

  “Less and less by the minute.”

  He wasn’t buying it. “Admit it. You like me.”

  “I don’t know. You never return the things you borrow, you drive a pretentious car. The list of reasons not to like you goes on and on.”

  “Your umbrella is sitting right by my front door. I never remember it because it hasn’t rained in weeks.”

  “Don’t make me come get it,” she warned.

  He laughed. “You aren’t as scary as you used to be, Weather Girl.”

  Poor Summer looked so flustered he half expected to hear all about typhoons or the average number of lightning strikes in a Texas thunderstorm. Summer managed to keep the weather facts at bay.

  “Country-fried steak with mashed potatoes, pork chops with the vegetable medley and an extra side of french fries,” the waitress said as she set the plates in front of Travis. “And the half turkey sandwich on sourdough and a chicken noodle soup for the lady. Is there anything else I can get you?”

  “Is there anything left back there?” Summer asked, staring wide-eyed at her dinner companion, who was already shoveling in a mouthful.

  “What?” he mumbled around a bite of his pork.

  “How is it humanly possible for one man to eat all of that?”

  “I work hard, I play hard, I have an appetite. You should have seen me when I played ball. I could eat twice this much.”

  Her giggle was better than the food. Travis finished off one plate and started on the other.

  “You’re going to be five hundred pounds soon if you aren’t careful,” she said, shaking her head.

  “You offering to help me work it off?”

  Summer set her sandwich down. “If I remember correctly, the last time I took you running, you nearly passed out.”

  “I remember watching you get drenched by the sprinklers, loving every second of it. Like you were dancing in the rain. You looked beautiful.” Seeing her like that had stirred feelings he wasn’t ready to deal with then, but he was prepared to try now.

  “Stop. What’s gotten into you tonight?” The corner of her mouth twitched, dying to give in to a smile.

  “You say stop, but you don’t mean it,” he said before popping a giant piece of broccoli into his mouth.

  “I do. I mean it,” she asserted, keeping her eyes everywhere but on him.

  Travis set down his fork and slid out of his seat. Summer’s brow furrowed until he planted himself next to her. He pushed some hair back so he could see her face. “Tell me there’s nothing I can do to make something happen between me and you.”

  Summer’s breathing changed, almost stopped. Her spoon fell into her soup. “There’s nothing you can do,” she said, her voice wavering.

  Something was already happening. She could lie to herself, but not to him. Travis leaned in, his nose almost touching the shell of her ear as he brought his mouth closer. “Nothing? You haven’t once wondered what it would be like to kiss me?”

  He could feel the heat coming off her now. Her skin turned red. She swallowed hard and her teeth bit into her bottom lip. “Don’t kiss me.” It came out like a desperate plea. As if kissing her would break her in two.

  “I won’t. I promise.” He sat back, giving her a reprieve, then went back to his own side. She watched him pick up his fork and fill his mouth with some french fries. Summer grabbed her water and drank until the ice cubes were all that was left.

  She was going to kiss him. Not today, not tomorrow. But she was going to kiss him. Travis had no d
oubt. “I’ll wait for you to kiss me. Someday soon, Summer Raines, you’re going to want to kiss me.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  IT WAS A beautiful day for football. At least according to Travis, who kept saying it. Repeatedly. The entire four-hour drive to Austin was spent in awkward silence or in conversation about the weather. Maybe he was trying to humor her. She couldn’t be sure. Ever since he swore she was going to be the one to kiss him, all she could do was think about doing just that.

  Every woman with working eyes probably thought about kissing Travis Lockwood. She glanced over at him in his worn-out jeans and faded Longhorns T-shirt. How he managed to pull off that ugly burnt orange color was beyond her. Maybe it was the spectacular view of his arms that distracted her from the color of his shirt. The large silver watch that wrapped itself around his wrist drew her eyes in. The tanned, muscular forearms kept them there. The tattoo inked on his biceps made her curious and a little breathless. Quarterbacks had nice arms—well, this particular former QB did anyway.

  Summer didn’t want a casual fling, though. Her heart wasn’t built for it. Plus, she was spoiled. She wanted the real, lasting kind of love her parents had. True love existed and Summer wasn’t about to settle for anything less. She certainly wasn’t going to let Travis treat her like some kind of trophy.

  Not that she believed what Rachel had said about him. Travis never came off like some sort of womanizer. Truthfully, she was more afraid they would be like her grandparents, who loved each other dearly but weren’t always on the same page. Her grandmother was a little bit more rebellious, while Big D liked to stay within the lines. They didn’t agree on everything, and Summer was fairly certain her grandmother occasionally picked fights because she thought they were fun.

  At the same time, Summer couldn’t count the moments she had witnessed between the two of them that made her heart swell. There were just too many. Big D liked to dance with his wife in the kitchen after they worked side by side on the dinner dishes. Her grandmother loved peach pie but made apple because it was her husband’s favorite. They held hands when they walked to and from church and they never argued before bed. Their love was undeniable, but it involved a lot of compromise.

  What Summer wanted was more like the life her parents shared. Everyone said Gavin and Gracie were a match made in heaven. They never fought or argued. They loved the same things and shared the same passions, but there was nothing they were more passionate about than each other. She still remembered the way they looked at each other, the smiles they thought were just for them. Their love was in every look, touch and word. They were true partners, even in death. It was probably better that way. Summer couldn’t really imagine either of them without the other. It just wasn’t right.

  Then there was the timing. Timing was everything. Just like with Ryan’s job offer, Travis was proposing something Summer wasn’t ready for, but being with him was tempting for sure. Thinking about it all caused Summer’s brain to fill with useless information about high pressure and jet streams.

  “Beautiful day for football,” Travis said as they sped along the highway.

  “So you’ve said.” Fourteen times, to be exact.

  “You aren’t feeling any rain coming, are you?”

  Summer shook her head. “No rain. Clear skies all day and all night.”

  “Good.” Travis nodded. “That’s real good.”

  They followed behind the station van in Travis’s car. Greg, the camera guy, was quite the lead foot. Summer was glad Travis was behind the wheel in case they got pulled over. The slick sports car made her feel uncomfortable—it was too fancy, too swanky for someone like her.

  Summer was a simple, down-home kind of girl. Something told her the woman who used to ride shotgun was not. There had been someone else. She’d broken down and searched Travis on Google, and found the article about his engagement and subsequent breakup. She saw pictures of him and a petite brunette with big green eyes. His former fiancée was glamorous and sophisticated. Nothing like Summer.

  “Stop thinking so hard. It makes your forehead wrinkle,” Travis said, giving her knee a squeeze. Summer covered her forehead with her hand. Of course he would be worried about a woman having wrinkles. He laughed. “I’m kidding. What is going on in that pretty head of yours?”

  She blew out the air in her lungs. The man made her second-guess herself more than Ryan did. As if being unsure of her career choice wasn’t bad enough, now she had to wonder if she was getting in over her head with a guy. Summer hated not knowing how big the risk was. “Nervous about being back in Austin?”

  Travis shook his head. “My four years at UT were some of my best. It’s hard to explain, but there’s something about playing college ball that’s different than anything else. There’s this whole other vibe. I don’t know.” He seemed embarrassed and a little wistful. “Some of my best memories are of being on that field.”

  “Good. I’m glad you can think of it that way.”

  “Just because I can’t play doesn’t mean I can’t look back fondly at the times I could.”

  Summer was happy to hear him talk like that. If their trip to Sweetwater was any indication of how things were going to go, there was a good chance people would make him feel as if he let them down today. She hated that because as much as she wanted to deny it, she cared about him. She cared about Travis and his feelings, even if he drove a car that made her feel out of place. Even if he was once engaged to a woman who looked like a supermodel. Travis was kind and decent, and he and his fragile sense of self-worth mattered to her.

  They arrived in Austin several hours before kickoff time. After checking in at the hotel, they headed to campus to put together some prerecorded clips before the live shot for the five o’clock news. They made a stop at Travis’s old fraternity house. Summer felt more popular than she had been when she was actually in college. Travis looked none too pleased when he had to remove more than one arm from around her shoulders. Needless to say, they didn’t stay long.

  The alumni tailgate tents weren’t much better. Ken had been right again—Travis received a hero’s welcome. Coaches, players, athletic directors and highfalutin alumni all treated him like Texas royalty. Summer could see how easy it would be to let this kind of attention go to someone’s head. To his credit, Travis handled himself with grace and humility.

  Watching Travis closely, Summer noticed how his eyes changed and his smile faltered a little bit every time someone offered up an “I’m sorry” or “Such a shame about your shoulder.” Over and over, it was as if he were at his own wake. The man couldn’t play football, but that was far from being dead. She was ready to scream at the next person who even thought about offering up some kind of condolence.

  The news crew was granted full access to the field before the game started. The turf under their feet was thick and lush. Summer crouched down and ran her fingers through the artificial grass. It was nice, but not like the real thing. Nothing ever compared to what Mother Nature could do. A shadow fell over her.

  “When I was here we had natural grass. This is state-of-the-art turf. UT is moving up in the world,” Travis said, smiling down at her. His large frame blocked the sun, making him glow at the edges. He really was a beautiful creature. Broad but narrow in all the right places, and that smile shone almost brighter than the sun.

  Summer stood to her full height but still had to look up. He was a titan of a man, large and looming but not really dangerous. He never came across as anything but warm and inviting. Summer could feel herself being pulled in, and was tired of resisting. “See, I like it real,” she said. “Real is always better than fake.”

  Travis’s hand came up, his fingers brushing against her cheek and leaving her breathless. “I don’t doubt that about you for a second. I’ve never met anyone as real as you.”

  It was an unusual compliment, but one Summer took to heart. What
he saw was what he got, and it felt good to know he was still interested. It was difficult to deny that she was interested in the real Travis, too.

  The production assistant reminded them there was work to do and Travis dropped his hand. Summer took a deep breath and tried to remember not to let herself get swept away. She told him there would be no kissing, and she meant it.

  They filmed a couple segments during which Travis showed her how to make the Longhorns symbol with her fingers and taught her the words to the school fight song. The two of them teamed up in a two-against-one scrimmage against the Longhorns’ mascot, Bevo, for the cameras. The very real longhorn bull was held fast by two wranglers and some rope, but that didn’t stop Summer from being concerned that the giant animal would run her down without a second thought. Ken hadn’t mentioned she’d be risking her life this weekend.

  She ended up dropping three passes before she finally managed to catch one. Travis laughed when she spiked the ball in the end zone and did a knee-knocking touchdown dance. In the end, it was the most fun Summer had had at work, ever, and it had nothing to do with the weather at all.

  Once the game started, Austin was alive with football fever. Summer had been overwhelmed by the noise and activity that surrounded the high-school game they attended, but that was nothing compared to this. DKR-Texas Memorial Stadium was larger than life and filled with more UT orange than she had ever seen. The band was phenomenal and Summer felt that energy Travis was trying to describe on their way down. For someone who had never understood or cared about the game before, Summer found herself having fun. Maybe she liked football, or maybe she was losing her mind. Whenever Travis was around, the latter was a distinct possibility.

  Summer was definitely falling in love with the pageantry of the sport, the way the boys burst out of the tunnel and ran onto the field, fueled by the cheers and screams of the crowd. She loved the band and their spectacular halftime show. The constant energy and spirit of the dolled-up cheerleaders was impressive. UT came out on top and there was no doubt the campus would be celebrating late into the night.