Page 77 of Whirlwind

He’s so easy to rile up when it comes to sex. When we first started seeing each other, he was a total prude, and while he still kind of is, I’ve had that man on the bottom, top, sideways, all the ways. He’s fucking glorious. We’ve also recently made things official. He’s my first serious boyfriend, and believe it or fucking not, I’m his, too. That tickles me to no end, and I have Finley and Ryker to thank for it. Had they not gotten together a year ago, I don’t know if Hawk would’ve made the leap.

My dear friend boning her ex-professor is why we’re all working together as a storm-chasing team. She constantly reminds me that I could have joined the team without her, but it wouldn’t have been the same. And I think Ryker and Finley’s relationship being on display in front of us constantly, the two macking on each other and calling each other pet names in the field, showed Hawk that he and I could be more than just fuck buddies. Especially since we have the same age difference as they do.

So yeah, if Hawk and I ever make this thing permanent, I’m thanking T-Daddy and T-Mama in my wedding vows, the freaking horndogs. Not that I’m much better.

I wiggle my eyebrows at my Hawk-man then turn my attention to Finley. “What do you think, Fin-Fin?”

She swallows and wipes her mouth on a napkin. “I like it.” Ezra, Hawk, and I turn to Ryker to see if she’s lying, and Finley groans. “I’m telling the truth—you don’t need to ask him.”

“Is she?” Hawk asks his bestie, his fork poised above his food, waiting for his answer.

It’s a well-known fact among us all that if Finley lies, Ryker can tell. He has some sort of weird built-in truth barometer when it comes to her. It’s fucking weird and cute all at the same time.

“She likes it.” He smiles.

Finley rolls her eyes and cuts another bite. “It’s good, Joey. It is comforting.”

“See!” I say to the guys. “Now eat your dinners, or you don’t get dessert.”

“Dessert?” Ezra asks.

“Yes, peach pie. Now eat, all of you.”

Finley grins at my command, and the two of us share a look that says “these idiots” before digging back into our food.

Eventually, the rest of the guys eat, agreeing that it’s good despite its looks, and easy conversation starts to flow. As dinner ticks by, I find myself feeling all warm and fuzzy inside sitting here and sharing a meal with the people I love.

I grew up an only child, and while I had my family, my parents had me later in life, and I’m alone now. This group of people in front of me, they’ve become my family, which is why I instituted a monthly “family dinner” after we all got comfortable with each other. It’s one night a month where one of us makes a home-cooked meal. Sometimes we miss it due to a chase, but we always make sure we have a rain date.

Once dinner is done and the peach pie has been eaten, we all make our way to my backyard where I have a deck with some chairs. It’s dark out, and the air is muggy. All the alarm bells in my mind start going off that we might see a twister tonight.

Ryker sits on a chair next to me, and Finley perches on his lap while Hawk sits on the other side of me and Ezra leans over thewooden railing, pulling out his phone. For a moment, I wonder if he’s talking to a woman given the way he’s smiling, but then I see he’s looking at his email.

An easy silence envelops us as the wind picks up, blowing through a wind chime I have hung near the sliding door.

“Holy shit!” Ezra shouts, and I nearly jump out of my chair.

“What is it?” Ryker asks, voice laced with concern.

Ezra turns and holds up his phone. The print is too tiny to see what’s on it, but I think I know what it is.

Finley jumps up and claps her hands. “Is it published?”

Ryker stands from his chair and moves next to her, taking her hand firmly in his.

“It is!” Ezra laughs. “Take a look.”

He hands the phone to Finley, and she takes it. “Research Paper by Dr. Ryker West, et al.: Rocket deployment of a trackable meteorological probe into the Red Rock EF3 tornado and mesocyclone!” By the time she’s finished reading the title, she’s practically squealing, jumping into Ryker’s arms.

“Have I told you how much I love you, Tornado Daddy?” My nickname for Ryker coming from her lips has the group chuckling. And while the grumpy ex-professor’s normal reaction to the name would be to grouse or roll his eyes, he smiles brightly at his girl, love reflecting in his eyes.

“You might have. But please, tell me again—or better yet, you can show me later when we’re alone.”

Finley flushes, and he mouths “I love you” before kissing her sweetly. When she pulls back, cheeks still pink and smile wide, she pushes Ryker toward the rest of us. The group embraces and congratulates each other on our hard work before I go get us beer to toast with.

When I’m back, we stand around in a circle, the faint porch light glowing enough that I can see the excited faces of my found family and boyfriend.

“To us,” Ryker says, lifting up his bottle. “The best motherfucking storm chasers around.”

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