"You've been at this for hours. When's the last time you ate?"
I tried to remember and couldn't. "I'm fine."
"That wasn't the question." He set one of the containers on my desk, and the smell of pad thai hit my nose. My stomach growled traitorously. "I got you the version without peanuts. Zara mentioned you have an allergy."
I stared at the food, then at Parker. "Why?"
"Because people get cranky when they're hungry, and you're kind of cranky enough already." But his tone was teasing, not mean. "Also because I figured if we're going to be working extended hours together this week, we should probably be on better terms."
He had a point. I opened the container and found perfectly prepared pad thai with extra vegetables which was exactly how I would have ordered it.
"Thank you."
Parker grinned like I'd given him a gift. "See? We can be civil. Now, show me what you've got on the storm."
We spent the next hour going over the forecast models while we ate. Parker made the mistake of licking sauce off his thumb and goosebumps trailed over my skin and I shivered, though he didn't seem to notice my discomfort. He asked intelligent questions and absorbed technical information faster than I'd expected. When I explained the difference between the models, he actually took notes.
"So basically, we won't know for sure until Wednesday, but we need to start preparing people now."
"Correct. Better to over-prepare than under-prepare."
"Agreed." He studied the projected path. "I'll work with Isla on a coverage plan. We should probably do live updates every hour once the storm is within twelve hours of landfall."
"That seems excessive."
"It's necessary." His serious expression was back. "People need to know they can tune in any time and get current information. Especially if evacuation orders get issued."
I wanted to argue, but he was right. It was unsettling, this discovery that Parker Fleetwood was more than someone with a cheerful disposition. He also had a strong jaw that was longing for someone to trail their fingers over and a walk that suggested he understood how his ass swayed when he strode out of a room. I tried not to stare at him but my pulse had quickened as if I was taking part in a hundred-meter sprint.
"Fine."
He extended his hand. "Partners?"
I looked at his outstretched hand, then at his face. His expression was genuine. My wolf practically begged me to kiss it.
I shook his hand briefly. His hands were warm and slightly callused at the base, probably from where he gripped a microphone. I held on too long before forcing myself to release him, but my palm tingled where we'd touched.
"Partners."
After Parker left, I sat in my empty office with the storm models still spinning on my screens. The developing hurricane wasn't the only thing that had my wolf on alert.
Something was changing. And unlike the weather, I had no models to predict where it would lead.
TWO
PARKER
The handshake shouldn't have meant anything.
I sat in my dressing room after the show, staring at my right hand like it might explain why my skin still prickled where Dawson had touched it. We were partners now, apparently, which was ridiculous because we'd been working together for eight months.
But something had changed today, and I couldn't quite put my finger on what.
My phone buzzed with a text from my best friend Carys.
How's Mr. Grumpy Weatherman today?
Carys had been hearing about Dawson since my first week at the station.
