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We drive the rest of the way with him attempting to find a song I don’t know or like. We’re two miles away from my apartment when he says some band I’ve never heard of. I bet he’s making it up, but he only laughs when I say so. We pull into the parking lot of my apartment building, and he insists on carrying all of the bags, leaving me with just my rolling suitcase.
Tackett must have hundreds of women in his contacts—good-looking, gentlemanly, and clever. This guy is everything I think my real mom would want for me.
ChapterFive
TACKETT
Blaring sirens wake us up in the middle of the night. Talynn runs into my bedroom, freaking out. “What is that?” I get out of bed and go to the back door to look outside only to find the tree trunks are bending at the base. The wind whistles low and heavy. It doesn’t look or sound good, especially since the siren is probably the town warning system.
The living room has windows in one corner. I survey the tables for the television remote. When I can’t locate it, I ask, “Do you have a remote?”
“Yeah but I don’t know where it is. I’ve only lived here about eight days before we went to Chicago. It’s amazing that I know where my underwear is.” Her hands dive into the couch cushions while I get down on my hands and knees to search under the tables. “Here, I found it.”
She clicks it on and weather alerts are on every channel. The tropical storm is now being classified as a hurricane and Sarasota will be in its path. We listen to the time when they expect it to hit.
“Okay, leave the television on but turn it up so we can hear it. Let’s go into the guest room; there’s no window in there. Do you have a flashlight?”
She shakes her head. I go into the kitchen and search the drawers, coming up empty. I tap out Megan’s phone number on my phone and she answers on the first ring—scared that something has happened.
I can barely get a word in. “Yes, we’re okay. Megan, do you have a flashlight? We need a flashlight. Yes, I’ll make sure. Meg, a flashlight?”
Talynn’s eyes widen. “Well?” I hold my finger up, letting Megan finish.
“Okay, we’ll check in when it’s over.”
Talynn throws her arms into the air. “So where’s the flashlight?”
“In your room. Have you ever looked in her nightstand?”
“Why?”
“Because she wanted you to go look but stay put.”
I go in Talynn’s bedroom and find the flashlight—and a brand new, still in the package silver bullet vibrator. I laugh because this is too much information to know about my boss. I flip the bullet in the package to Talynn. “This is what she didn’t want me to see.”
Her response is to tear open the package. “We may need this…to umm jackhammer us out of debris.” She laughs hysterically.
I shut every door and tuck away the furniture as far away from doors and windows as I can. We’re a few miles from the ocean, but I can’t take a chance with Talynn’s life.
My phone dings, interrupting my thoughts. I pull my phone out of my pocket and tap open the messages icon.
Wilson:Get out of the house. Go to Ortega’s or Philpot’s.
Me:I’m at Talynn’s apartment. Archer and Megan wanted me to stay with her.
Wilson:Okay, our game is in Oakland today. I’ll have my phone in dugout. Be safe.
Me:I will.
Talynn is shaking like a leaf. There aren’t hurricanes in Chicago, and only rarely a tornado. “Come sit with me,” I say, offering her my hand. She grabs it quickly, and I pull her down beside me on the floor. Then I tug the mattress off the bed and position it at an angle—like half of a teepee.
“We have our own little campout,” she says, her voice quivering.
I put my arm around her shoulder, attempting to comfort her. “Yeah. I have sunflower seeds, water, and a candy bar. We can pretend it’s anything you want.”
She allows her head to fall onto my shoulder. “I wonder how hurricanes form. What makes them change directions?”
“They form in warm water near the equator and then winds push together driving the air up. The air passes through the storm outwardly, and humid air makes more clouds. Then the wind pushes in and when it starts rotating, it’s a tropical storm. Once it reaches seventy-four miles per hour, it’s a hurricane.” I draw her even closer into me. She reaches for the comforter and spreads it over her legs. Those luscious long legs. “You know what most people don’t know about hurricanes?”
