Page 20 of Into the Tempest

I scrambled to let her in. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you come in on the security camera.”

She barged in with Bruce under one arm. “You two weren’t testing the structural integrity of the control panel, were ya? Both look a little flustered.”

“Uh, no,” I began.

“I wanted to,” Tully said cheerfully, “but he shot me down.”

I was going to object, but she wasn’t paying me any attention. She looked him up and down. “Jeez. You scrub up okay, doncha? Wouldn’t have recognised ya if it weren’t for your flash car out the front.”

He grinned. “Love your shirt.”

Her shirt tonight had three big Scrabble tiles across the front.V,A, andG.

Because of course it did. It was better thanpussy licker, though.

Doreen laughed. “Thought I better wear a nice one in case anyone wants to interview me.” Then she looked at me. “Not like Mr Significant Weather Event celebrity here.”

I groaned. “Ugh. Don’t remind me.”

“It’s the new catch phrase, apparently,” Doreen said. She took her seat at the control panel. “Lock the gate on yer way out.”

Okay then. That was our cue to leave.

I gave Doreen back her keys, we collected our half-eaten dinner, and Tully followed me home. I wasn’t sure if we’d be continuing our conversation from before or if we’d said all that needed saying up to this point.

But he really did like me. He got butterflies because of me. As I did because of him. When he smiled at me, when he put his arms around me, when he kissed me.

It was a powerful feeling, knowing someone liked me. Thatheliked me. That this incredible man—who was miles out of my league—felt the same way about me. I wasn’t kidding when I said he could have anyone... but for some reason he chose me.

Walking into his house, he turned the TV on, then took two beers out of the fridge and handed me one. He nodded to the balcony.

He slipped his fingers through mine and led me outside. There was a storm on the horizon. I’d been watching the radars all day, so I knew it would be brief, but there was lightning activity over the ocean.

“Ah, perfect timing,” he said.

We stood there, his arm around me, his chin on my shoulder, sipping our beers, and we watched as the intracloud light show lit up the skies above, as the wind whipped around us, the smell of rain filled the air. But when some negative charge bolts hit the ocean closer to us, he pulled me inside. “I’m not risking you today, sorry,” he said.

A furious downpour of rain battered the balcony the second he closed the door behind us. “Ooh, that was close,” he said with a laugh.

But then his eyes cut to the television behind me. “Look, it’s you!”

I turned, and sure enough, there I was on some daily news update show, where the hosts talked about daily current affairs. I understood the cyclone was an important news update, and I was interested to hear what they said after my segment.

Did they take me seriously?

Had people started evacuation plans? Were they heading south already?

I sure hoped so. I wanted them to talk about it. I wanted them to push the importance of listening to emergency services and to evacuate if possible.

I took a swig of my beer and waited to see what they discussed.

“All seriousness aside, and we will get to the crux of the report in a moment,” one host said. “How blue are his eyes?”

“I know!” the other host said, almost coming out of her seat. “Like sooo blue.”

“Freakishly blue.”

Jesus fucking Christ.

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