Less grumpy than usual. Brought him pad thai.
YOU BROUGHT HIM FOOD? The uppercase letters spoke of her astonishment.Parker Fleetwood, are you lusting after the man?
My fingers hovered over the phone. Was I? No. Absolutely not. I was just being professional. We had a big storm potentially heading our way, and Dawson needed to eat.
Just being nice. We have hurricane coverage coming up.
Uh huh. Keep telling yourself that.
I set my phone down and caught my reflection in the mirror. My carefully styled hair was already falling into my eyes and I needed to shave again. There was a coffee stain on my shirt and I looked tired and unpolished for someone whose job was to look put together on camera.
Eight months ago, I'd taken this job to escape. To put distance between myself and Callan, my partner who'd been sleeping with his personal trainer for six months before I'd found out. The humiliation had been worse than the heartbreak. Everyone in our social circle had known except me.
So when Isla had called about the morning show host position, I'd said yes without negotiating salary. I'd packed up my apartment in two days and driven six hours to a city where no one knew about my failed relationship or my cheating ex or the house we'd already put a deposit on.
For months, I'd thrown myself into work. I'd made friends with the crew, boosted the ratings and smiled until my face hurt. And if sometimes I felt hollow inside, well, that was just part of moving on.
Then I'd noticed Dawson.
It had been my second week. I'd arrived early. I was still learning the studio layout, and found him in the weather center. He'd been bent over his desk, completely absorbed in some weather model on his screen. The morning light had caught the sharp line of his jaw, and he'd been humming something unconsciously under his breath and it was surprisingly melodic.
I'd stood in the doorway like a fool, just watching him work. There was something compelling about his focus and how he moved with such quiet confidence. The deep line of concentration between his brows was oddly endearing, and when he'd finally noticed me and looked up with those green eyes, I'd felt something flutter in my chest.
Then he'd scowled and asked what I wanted, and I'd remembered that I was still healing. I wasn't ready and was still too broken to think about being attracted to someone, especially someone who clearly had no interest in me.
So I'd buried it and focused on the professional relationship. I'd done my best to not notice how good he smelled which reminded me of pine and rain and something else I couldn't name. I tried not to feel hurt when he bristled at my on-air translations of his forecasts.
But lately, something had been changing. The grief had finally loosened its grip, and I was starting to feel like myself again. That meant I was also starting to notice that Dawson Adair was not just attractive. He was fascinating, brilliant even. And underneath all that grumpiness, he was kind.
The way he'd looked at the storm data today, especially the immediate concern in his voice. He cared about keeping people safe. And when I'd apologized for cutting him off, he'd listened.
A knock on my dressing room door startled me out of my thoughts.
"Come in."
Isla poked her head inside. "Got a minute? We need to talk coverage strategy."
I followed her to her office, where she already had the weather models pulled up on her screen. Isla was in her fifties with silver-streaked hair and a sharp intelligence that made people underestimate her at their peril. She'd hired me when no one else would take a chance on someone from a smaller market, and I'd never forgotten it.
"Dawson says we could have a major hurricane headed our way." She gestured at the projected paths. "He wants extended coverage starting Wednesday."
"He's right. People need advance warning for evacuation planning."
"That's why I'm giving him whatever he needs." She leaned back in her chair. "But I need you two to work together without the usual friction. Can you do that?"
"We don't have friction."
Her look was skeptical. "Parker, I've been in this business thirty years. I know when two people are circling each other."
My cheeks flamed with embarrassment. "I don't know what you mean."
"Don't you?" She pulled up the morning's broadcast footage and hit play. There I was, translating Dawson's forecast, and there he was, looking at me with an expression I'd never noticed. It was almost as if he… cared. "He respects you even if he doesn't always show it the way you'd like."
"He thinks I dumb down his work."
"He thinks you make his work accessible. There's a difference." She closed the video player. "Look, I don't know what's going on between you two, and I don't need to. But this storm could be serious. I need my morning show host and my meteorologist functioning as a team, not whatever dance you've been doing."
"We shook hands on it today. We're partners."
