Page 25 of Whirlwind

“Which is false!” Finley sits forward in her seat, as if the moment is happening again right now. Her gumption reminds me once more of when she came to my office hours that first time and pointed out data I had missed on an old storm report.

My lip twitches with a smile. “And where do they form, Ms. Buckley?”

Joey waits for her answer with lips turned up as Finley shifts in her seat. It’s subtle, something I would’ve missed if I blinked, but I see the way her thighs squeeze together at the way I addressed her. An idiotic yet hopeful part of me wonders if she’s thinking about when I was inside her, and I swallow and bite the inside of my cheek while trying to think of something other than how good her pussy felt squeezing my bare cock.

She clears her throat. “Mesocyclones typically form in the updraft region of the supercell but not specifically in the forward flank downdraft. They usually develop in the mid-levels of the atmosphere, where there’s significant wind shear, and they’re associated with the updraft, not the downdraft.”

I nod, her science-speak not helping the boner that wants to make an appearance. God, I’m so fucked. “Very good,” I manage to rasp out.

“If you were wondering why I call her Sharkie, that’s why. She’s a killer.”

Finley repositions and leans closer to me, her warm body near enough that I can smell the faint almond scent of her soap and shampoo. Instead of touching me, not that she had a reason to, she pats Joey on the head. He gets all puppy-eyed, clearly enjoying her touch. When she starts to scratch under his chin like a person would a dog, he pants.

She eyes me as she says, “And this is why I call him Sparkie.”

He bats her hand away but barks at her, and I can’t stop the ache in my chest that develops as they both prove their closeness further.

I grip the wheel harder and try to cut off the irrational feelings I have no right to feel. I should be glad that Finley has Joey on this trip—she’s already more comfortable having him here. And I’m sure she’ll be thankful that he’s with us when we meet up with the rest of the team so she has someone familiar to lean on. But part of me wantedmeto be that for her, even if I’ve already fucked up that chance. Even though I know it’s better this way.

“Hey, Tornado Daddy,” Joey interrupts my spiral. “Hawk knows you’re driving, so he dropped me a line.” Joey holds up his phone so I can see it in the rearview.

“What is it?”

“The team is moving further west to where they think the action is going to be. The Storm Prediction Center has reiterated that today is gonna be insane.”

“Were those their exact words?” Finley asks.

Joey smacks his lips. “They said it’s going to be unprecedented. Better?”

“Much,” Finley says with satisfaction, her tone only solidifying why Joey calls her “The Shark”.

“Tell him we’ll be there as fast as we can,” I say.

Joey types a message out then pats me on the shoulder a moment later. “He says to step on it, Daddy.”

“His exact words?” I parrot Finley’s words, a move that makes her smile softly.

“No. But I thought Daddy was better than Grandpa.”

Finley expels a belly laugh, and I grumble. “Hold on to your balls, Joseph.”

He smirks at me. “Don’t you mean hat?”

I answer by turning up the music I had on low, and “Nothin’ But a Good Time” by Poison blasts through the speakers before I punch the gas, sending Joey flying back against his seat.

Grandpa, my ass.

Chapter ten

Finley

Nerves kick up inmy stomach as we get closer to the gas station where the rest of the team is waiting for us under a green sky. With the change in location, our three-hour drive turned into six. The very unglamorous part of storm chasing is that you actually have to chase them, which generally means lots of monotonous driving before you get to the good part.

Thankfully, the tension in the truck eased a bit after we listened to some music and settled in together. But mostly, we have Joey’s chatter to thank for the better atmosphere, and I’ve enjoyed catching up with him. I wouldn’t say we lost touch after we graduated from undergrad together, but our social media DMs had gotten less frequent as we both got busier.

I glance at Ryker from the corner of my eye. I would’ve thought by now he’d have loosened up a bit more. His shoulders have relaxed some, but I’ve spent enough time with him in the last year to know he’s on edge. And I haven’t missed the way his jaw tightens when Joey pops his head through the seats to tell me a joke that makes me laugh.

I definitely didn’t miss his fiery glare directed at my friend when we stopped for a bathroom break and to grab some greasy gas station food. Joey had slung his arm around my shoulders as we walked through the store together. It didn’t mean anything to me—Joey and I long ago established that we were friends. The man is simply touchy-feely.

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