“The university has an emergency fund.”
“Damn,” I whistle, eyeing the SUV with genuine appreciation. “Looks like I won’t have to sweet-talk my way into another rental agency because I’m pretty sure I’m blacklisted by every rental company in the continental U.S.” I run my fingers along the gleaming hood. “Apparently, they don’t appreciate vehicles coming back with gorilla hail damage.”
Jonah gives me that half-smile that makes my stomach do a little flip. “I can’t imagine why.”
“Their loss is your gain,” I shrug, then wince as my shoulder reminds me it’s still very much injured. “Though I’m surprised your university sprung for something this nice.”
“Well, it turns out luck was in our favor. The campus police K-9 unit just got a new SUV. They hadn’t sold off the old one yet so my department commandeered. They were able to get it down here quickly, but we had some outside help, too. Lucas’s news station might have thrown in some additional funds to properly equip it.”
“Weather Boy?” I raise an eyebrow.
Before Jonah can answer, movement near the SUV catches my attention. That’s when I spot him, holding his phone up in front of the vehicle.
“Is he..?”
“Taking a selfie,” Jonah confirms with a sigh. “He’s been documenting everything since he arrived.”
I watch as Lucas repositions himself, clearly hunting for the right angle, the news van parked far enough back to catch our new ride in the background.
“Please tell me Weather Boy riding with us is not a part of the deal, because there are a lot of things I am willing to do for you, Jonah, but being stuck with him for days on end is where I draw the line.”
“He’s not that bad,” Jonah retorts. “He has his…” His sentence dies the second he notices Lucas posing with our SUV. “On second thought, you might be right about that.”
“Keep that sentence in your vocabulary. You’ll be needing that for future arguments.”
“He does grow on you,” Jonah admits, watching Lucas now recording a video introduction with the SUV. “Eventually. Like a fungus.”
I snort at that, which makes my shoulder throb. “How long is he staying?”
“Just today. He wants to film some background footage for a segment on storm chasing technology.” Jonah’s hand finds the small of my back, a steadying presence I’m growing increasingly dependent on. “I promised him an interview in exchange for the extra funding.”
“So we’re basically giving Weather Boy his fifteen minutes of fame,” I say, watching Lucas gesture dramatically toward the SUV while talking to his phone. “As long as he doesn’t get in our way when we’re chasing.”
“That was my one condition,” Jonah assures me. “He stays back when we’re in position. No exceptions.”
“Good. Because I’m not responsible for what happens if he starts asking annoying questions, and we might be standing next to cliff, or a hole, even a well.”
Max nudges my leg with his nose, apparently tired of being ignored. The truth is, seeing Lucas with his camera makes methink of Dad’s equipment—all the custom gear that was lost in the tornado. The specialized cameras, the anemometers he’d modified himself, the hand-built weather stations. All gone.
Jonah notices my shift in mood immediately. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I lie, then correct myself when he gives me that look. “I was just thinking about Dad’s equipment.”
“Let me show you something,” Jonah says, something in his tone I can’t quite place. “Follow me.”
I glance at him, curious, but go along as he heads toward the SUV. Lucas trails behind us.
“And here we have the legendary Delilah Brooks, one of the most fearless storm chasers in the Midwest, recently injured in the line of duty,” Lucas narrates, his broadcaster energy carrying across the parking lot. “Despite her injuries, she’s ready to get back on the road with Professor Reed and their cutting-edge research equipment.”
I roll my eyes at Jonah, who gives me an apologetic look. “Lucas, can you give us a minute?” he asks.
“Of course, of course,” Lucas replies, though he keeps his camera pointed our way. “I’ll just get some B-roll of the vehicle.”
Jonah guides me to the back of the SUV and pauses, his hand on the latch. There’s something in his expression—nervousness, maybe, or anticipation—that makes my heart beat a little faster.
“I have a surprise for you,” he tells me, something quiet and uncertain in the way he does.
My breath catches. “You what?”
