This feels like dangerous territory to teeter toward, and I toss the stick to the side.
“I’m surprised ABC isn’t making this storm into a wholeproduction.” I gesture around us. Weather is a safer topic. “Seems like it would be a big deal.”
“They’re saving the budget for what might happen later in the season. This one is mainly a rainmaker. I haven’t seen much wind damage, which is a good sign. The next one might be different.” He pulls his phone out of his pocket and taps the screen. “They do want me to go live on the national news in a few minutes to give an update on Claudia while it’s safe to be outside. Could you be my camerawoman? It won’t take long.”
“Do I get to talk to David Muir?”
“Do you want to talk to David Muir?”
“I wouldn’t be opposed to it.” We find a dry spot thirty yards away, up a small hill, to set down our gear. He hands over his phone and trudges toward the flooded road closer to the bay, using another stick to test the depth of the water. I follow his exact path, stopping when the water reaches my shins. “He’s cute. Handsome, I guess, is the more appropriate description.”
“Is that your type?” Sebastian shakes out his hair. Droplets fling from the ends of the dark strands and land on my arm. “Men who wear suits?”
“Maybe? I’m not sure. Not a lot of free time to find out, you know?”
“I get it.” He shrugs. Takes off his rain jacket and fixes his collar with long fingers before squeezing out a handful of water from the center of his shirt. It’s translucent, obnoxiously sticking to every curve of his body. There are visible pectoral muscles. The hint of abdominal muscles, too, and a deep V-cut I have no business seeing. I’m not sure how he’s going to be allowed on national television without being censored. “Settling down isn’t easy with this job. We’re constantly going out on assignment. Chasing the next big system. Finding time to spend with someone is difficult.”
“You’re probably dating half of New York, aren’t you?”
“I might be.” A soft chuckle. The lift of his shoulder. Water sluicing down his neck in slow motion and catching in the hollow of his throat. It’s borderline obscene. “Jealous, Pres?”
“Please.” I tap his phone, wondering when this call is going to come through. The screen lights up, and I study the wallpaper. It’s a picture of him, Nate, and Cooper at the beach. Bright blue water behind them, their heads tipped back. They look younger. There’s a vanilla ice cream cone in Sebastian’s hand. A seagull at his feet and Nate on Cooper’s back. “I don’t think about you at all.”
“For the record, I’m not dating half of New York.”
“A quarter.”
“Not quite.” He tries to peel his shirt away from his chest, but it only clings more possessively to his body. I wonder if he’s doing it on purpose. “Haven’t found anyone who catches my eye. Knowing the definition of a haboob is a must, and most women think it’s a sex position. They’re pretty disappointed when they find out it’s an intense dust storm.”
“Maybe it’s not disappointment. Maybe it’s relief they don’t have to sleep with you.”
“Damn, Monroe. Thanks for tossing my self-confidence in the goddamn gutter.”
“I’m sure you’ll recover.”
Sebastian’s phone rings, a New York phone number scrolling across the screen. He gives me a thumbs-up, and for half a reluctant, torturous second, I understand why women fawn over him.
I can’t stand the man, but I can recognize how good-looking he is with his bright eyes and the boylike wonder in his megawatt smile. He puts an AirPod in his ear, clipping his tiny microphone to his shirt. A rogue piece of hair falls across his forehead and he leaves it there, the perfect picture of rugged, windswept storm chaser.
“If that’s the studio, you can answer, Pres.” His voice shifts fromcarefree to professional, the hint of his upbringing tucked away. “I’m ready.”
I slide my thumb across the screen, connecting to the FaceTime call. I flip the camera, putting Sebastian in the shot, then nod his way.
“Hey, good afternoon y’all. I’m down in Florida, just outside of Miami Beach, where Hurricane Claudia made landfall about three hours ago. I’m currently in the eye, which is why it’s so quiet around me, but hurricane force winds and heavy rain are expected to pick back up in the next thirty minutes. Early reports are suggesting close to fifty thousand homes are without power, and we’re working with NOAA and the NWS to see if the storm producing rotation in the outer bands of Claudia had a verified tornado touchdown.”
There’s a long pause. I can only hear one side of the conversation, but Sebastian nods, staring at the camera.
“Exactly. And I get it. You look outside and see that the rain and wind have let up. You’re antsy to check out any damage in the surrounding area, but local officials are urging people to stay indoors until the storm passes. We are under a state of emergency, and you have the danger of downed power lines and loose, saturated branches that are susceptible to falling. Don’t approach any body of water. Flooding is our biggest concern with this system. Those lampposts behind me have almost disappeared. Is half of that the storm surge from the bay making its way onto the street that will retreat once Claudia works across the state? Yeah, but regardless, that’s a bad situation, and—”
A bloodcurdling scream pierces the air. I almost drop his phone, jerking my chin up in an attempt to find the source of the noise.
Sebastian turns, and that’s when I see it.
There’s a car stuck in the water, and someone is inside.
“Is that—”
“I have rope in my bag.” I point to where we ditched our stuff in an attempt to keep our supplies dry. “There’s a tree there.”
