“You sure it’s not that you secretly like this stuff too?” He grins, a little too pleased.
I scrunch my nose with exaggerated distaste. “Pure sugar and violently orange fake cheese? No thanks.”
“Yeah, okay, so when you ask for some in an hour, I should remind you that you don’t actually want them.”
“You should.” I glance up at his amused expression, warmth that has nothing to do with the day’s heat flooding into my cheeks. “But give me some anyway.”
His lips curve, eyes doing that intense thing again. “All right,” Wes drawls, his attention still focused a little too much on me. “I’ll give you some, but only when you ask.”
Are we still talking about junk food? I swear we are.
I ask for a handful of Doritos an hour later. The salty goodness and satisfying crunch is absolutely worth the smug look on Wes’s face and the orange cheese dust on my leggings.
By the timewe get into range, storms are popping up on the radar left and right. We stop to decide which way to go, both silently evaluating the data as we stare at our devices. I know my vote pretty quickly but brace myself for an argument. Wes is nothing if not opinionated.
“The northern cell here”—I point on the iPad to the map—“is probably going to cut off the energy, and this one to the south is going to die.” I zoom out slightly and tap on the cells popping up farther to the east. “These look like they’re just going to line out, and by the time they really get going, they’re going to be in the canyon. I don’t think we should mess with it.”
“Agree. Too hard to get a good shot.”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, and alsothe canyon. You know. Almost no roads. Easy to get trapped.”
“Sure, that too.” Wes flashes me a grin. “Want me to drive for a bit? I don’t expect you to chauffeur me around.”
I hesitate, half expecting more of an argument. I’m also not sure I want to give up control behind the wheel during a chase, but we haven’t heard from my brother. We could be together for longer than either of us thought, especially since it looks like everything is shifting farther east over the coming week. There’s really no point in exhausting myself by insisting on driving the entire time.
As long as Wes behaves.
“No stupid risks,” I finally say, my hand on the door. “I can’t afford to replace all my windows as easily as you can.”
The sound he makes is a little too short to be a laugh. “Sure, Sloane. Whatever you say.”
It’s what I want to hear, but for some reason my stomach twists as we quickly swap seats. Wes fiddles with the seat and mirrors, adjusting everything for his longer legs with finicky precision. I’m just starting to relax about him taking this seriously when he grins, throws the car into gear, and peels off the shoulder fast enough to send gravel flying.
All my glare gets me is a laugh.
“You good to navigate?” he asks. “If you want to grab a nap—”
“I amnotgoing to sleep while you’re driving my car.”
“Oh, c’mon, nothing happened yesterday.”
“Yesterday we were road-tripping. Today we’re chasing. It’s different.”
“I haven’t died yet,” Wes says a little too cheerfully.
“Not for lack of trying.”
“Don’t worry, darlin’.” He reaches over to pat my thigh, his long fingers settling on my bare skin a little too easily. I stare down at his hand, watching his fingers flex as he squeezes. “Nothing is going to happen to you under my watch.”
The flicker of interest I thought I buried back at the coffee shop roars to life, a steady pulse throbbing between my legs. This is bad. Wes isn’t relationship material, and I don’t do casual. No matter how well he kisses.
“Hands on the wheel, please.” My attempt at stern lands somewhere around uncertain.
It’s a full thirty seconds before he removes his hand, his lips curving up in a faint smile. The rest of his expression is shadowed by his sunglasses, but his fingers flex before they slowly lower to the steering wheel. Neither of us says anything at first, the silence thick with all the things we’re not saying.
And then Wes grabs his phone and opens a playlist labeled “Shhh We’re Hunting Tornadoes.” Seconds later, AC/DC’s “Thunderstruck” pours out of my speakers. When he starts singing along and I discover there’s something he’s definitelynotgood at, my irritation melts away.
Just to come roaring back a couple of hours later.
