‘So … was reporting about sports all you imagined it would be?’

They’d reached the bottom floor. The elevator doors opened and they made their way to the exit. Somehow Travis still managed to look like he’d just stepped off the pages of GQ.

‘I thought those who can’t, can at least talk about it,’ he said. ‘Turns out it’s harder than people like you make it look.’

‘You did fine,’ Summer said in an attempt to be polite.

‘I was terrible,’ he replied. She couldn’t really argue with his self-assessment. She almost felt bad for him … until he opened the door for her and took note of the very dry parking lot, adding, ‘I don’t know, Weather Girl, I think you might be losing your touch.’

Summer couldn’t hold back her grin as the thunder rumbled overhead. She opened her umbrella and stepped outside. The skies let go, raindrops sending tiny dust clouds into the air when they hit the pavement. ‘What was that?’ she asked from under the protection of her big red umbrella. She cupped her ear with her free hand. ‘I can’t hear you over the rain and thunder.’

‘Aren’t you going to offer to walk me to my car?’ he shouted as she backed away from him.

‘I think you might be losing your touch, Ladykiller,’ she said, picking up the pace. ‘Good night!’

It wasn’t as good as spotting a tornado, but watching Travis Lockwood get soaked to the bone as he ran to his fancy black sports car kind of made Summer’s day.

Dear Reader,

Inspired by a friend’s love of storm-chasing shows, I wrote this story centered around a woman who loves two things: her family and the weather. Family is forever. Weather is predictable. Love, on the other hand, isn’t. There’s no way to tell when it’s coming or how long it’s going to stick around. Not to mention it can be more dangerous than a tornado when your heart is on the line.

I absolutely loved bringing the characters of The Weather Girl to life. So much so that I often wonder what Summer would think of the weather reports I see on television. Summer and Travis had to ride out some storms to get to their happy ending, but you don’t get a rainbow without a little rain!

I hope you enjoy the story and maybe fall in love with the weather girl, too! Come visit me at www.amyvastine.blogspot.com.

Amy Vastine

The Weather Girl

Amy Vastine

www.millsandboon.co.uk

AMY VASTINE

has been plotting stories in her head for as long as she can remember. It’s been a dream come true that people wanted to read them once she wrote them down. She lives outside Chicago with her high school sweetheart turned husband, three children and puppy dog. She loves to connect with readers on her Facebook author page, www.facebook.com/amyvastineauthor, and Twitter, @vastine7.

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To my mom, who always believed in me. Words cannot express how much I appreciate and love you.

Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER ONE

“IT’S ANOTHER SCORCHER out there, Abilene. All across the Big Country, we’re looking at upper nineties today and throughout the rest of the week. There’s no relief from this drought in sight.”

Summer shut off the radio and shook her head. Had no one ever heard of lower troposphere instability? Once again, the responsibility to set everyone straight fell solidly on her shoulders.

Storm waited patiently at the bottom of the stairs. She gave him a pat on his big, block head. “You can tell it’s going to rain today. Can’t you, boy?” The giant black Lab wagged his tail and barked once in agreement. When she was growing up, Summer’s daddy always told her animals had a sixth sense about weather. It often made her wonder if she was born with some genetic abnormality that made her more like her trusted pet than the rest of the human race.

She sprinkled a little fish food in Isaac’s tank and bid Storm farewell, snagging her umbrella on the way out the door. She’d need it today, despite what the weatherman on the radio said. Summer Raines always knew when it was going to rain, no matter what the computer models predicted or how cloudless the sky looked. She could feel it.

* * *

KLVA WAS BUZZING with an unusual energy when Summer arrived at the station. The new sports anchor had started today and everyone was giddy about it. The men were grouped together, enthusiastically reminiscing about game-changing plays and state championships. The women giggled and postured. Hair was big and clothes were tight today. The new guy was somewhat of a legend in these parts, born and raised in Sweetwater, and he played ball for Texas. The man’s broadcasting experience was all on the other side of the microphone. He had held countless press conferences, only not as the press. Nobody else seemed to care his résumé consisted of nothing but football stats. For whatever reason, he was a big deal. A very big deal.

Ken Collins, the station director, believed this addition to the news team was going to give KLVA’s ratings a major boost. Summer tried to focus on the positive. The former sports guy had been forced into early retirement. Bud Lawson gave her the creeps. His suits smelled like cigarettes and cheese and he thought it was completely appropriate to tell Summer he’d fantasized about her in a Dallas Cowboys cheerleading outfit. Even more disturbing, he’d attempted to pat her behind more than once. Summer spent a ridiculous amount of time and energy making sure her back was never turned to Bud.

Ken came to a dead stop in front of Summer and the umbrella resting against her desk. “When did you say it was going to rain? Richard didn’t say that this morning. He said sunny and ninety. No rain. I washed my car on the way here.”

She shrugged and Ken threw his hands up. “I only got the feeling before leaving the house,” she explained. “Computer models say I’m wrong, but I’m pretty sure the winds are shifting.”

“Great,” he said with a huff. “Can you text me the next time you get a feeling after the morning forecast? Please?”

“Will do, boss.” Summer smiled as he shouted that they’d all better be ready for the staff meeting in ten minutes. Not everyone believed in Summer’s abilities, but Ken and the leather interior of his convertible had learned the hard way that she often knew more than the average meteorologist.

“What are you wearing?” Rachel Crow came zooming across the newsroom, headed straight for Summer’s desk. She was the station’s most popular news anchor, beautiful and polished. On the air, she had the sweetest Southern disposition. Behind the scenes, however, she was a bit more...tenacious.

Summer looked down at her favorite silk top. It reminded her of Texas bluebonnets and matched the color of her eyes. “Clothes?”

Rachel was not amused. “What color are you wearing?”

“Blue.”

“Yes! Yes, you’re wearing blue!” Rachel tucked her auburn hair behind her ears as she looked around to make sure no one could overhear. “Do you know what color the Chicago Bears are?”

Summer didn’t even know who the Chicago Bears were. “Blue?” she guessed.

“Blue,” Rachel repeated solemnly. “Did you think about that when you got dressed this morning? Today, of all days?” Summer would have felt guilty if she had any clue what Rachel was talking about.

“I guess I wasn’t thinking.”

“Obviously.”

“Hopefully you’ll be able to forgive me.”

“It’s not my forgiveness you should be seeking, sugar. Not mine.” Rachel shook her head and walked back to her desk.

Summer didn’t have the time to worry about why the color blue and Chicago and bears were somehow the root of all evil today. She opened an email from her parents’ friend Ryan Kimball about a tropical depression off the coast of Haiti that had turned into a tropical storm overnight. Ryan produced a storm-chasing show on the Discovery Channel that she watched religiously. He sent her the best pictures to post on KLVA’s weather site since he was still out there, living the life her parents had lived until their untimely passing. He emailed her often, reminding her that storm chasing was in her blood, and she was kidding herself if she thought she could stay away forever.

“Looking up new ways to make sunny and ninety sound interesting?” a voice asked over Summer’s shoulder. She spun in her seat and found her nemesis and fellow meteorologist, Richard Mitchell, appearing disheveled. He had removed his Dillard’s Big and Tall suit coat, and his tie hung loosely around his neck. Richard was a large man who always seemed to be suffering in the Texas heat. The sweat stains on the armpits of his shirt made Summer cringe.

“I was checking on that tropical storm off the coast of—”

He cut in before she could finish. “I’m pretty sure the good people of Abilene couldn’t care less about a tropical storm in the middle of nowhere. Unless, of course, you plan on telling them it’s headed this way.”

Richard’s dislike of Summer was completely unjustified, if you asked her. She had earned the five and ten o’clock spots fair and square. She did her job well and people just plain liked her better than him. KLVA jumped to number two, ratingswise, when Summer switched from mornings to evenings.

“Well, as a matter of fact...” She glanced down at her bright red umbrella.

Richard’s beady eyes widened. “There’s no storm headed our way, Summer,” he hissed. “If you go on the air and report that, you’ll make a fool of yourself and this station!”

She glared at him. “There’s only one fool in our department, and it’s not me. Don’t worry, I’ll take full credit for my prediction and let our viewers know you thought differently.”

Richard’s face was redder than a July tomato. He pointed a thick, stubby finger at her. “You... You better watch yourself!” She laughed as he stomped off. “And don’t you dare mention my name!” He shouted his idle threat over his shoulder. Richard could hate her all he wanted, but he knew if she thought it was going to rain, it most definitely would.

Ken came out of his office and called for everyone’s attention. “All right, as most of you know, we have a new member to welcome to the KLVA team. Travis, come on over here.”

Summer rolled her chair a little to the left to catch a glimpse of this supposed god among men. He emerged from the huddle of guys who had been reliving his glory days when she walked in. Travis was young, about Summer’s age. His sandy blond hair sat on his head like a mop. The boy needed a haircut, but he wore a suit better than anyone else in the newsroom, perhaps in all of Texas. His broad shoulders and long legs made him a star on the field; his pearly white teeth and adorable dimples made him shine off-field. Her colleagues’ big hair and tight clothes made sense now. Travis was a lady-killer.

Ken patted him on the back and squeezed his mammoth shoulder. “I am more than proud to officially introduce Travis Lockwood, our new evening sports anchor.” More clapping, hooting and hollering took place.

Summer would admit he was cute, but this kind of welcome was unheard of around here. There was work to be done. She couldn’t stop herself from opening The Weather Channel’s website for a quick peek at the national map while Ken blathered on and on about Travis. She’d just clicked on a headline about how the drought was affecting the butterfly population when she heard her name.

“Right, Summer? I’m sure you can make that work.”

Ken was looking at her expectantly. “Can you repeat that, Ken? It’s hard to hear y’all over here with the fan going.” She pointed at the large oscillating fan blowing on Richard a few cubicles over.

“I said we’re going to take thirty seconds from the weather segment and give it to Travis for the first couple weeks. Give him some time to really connect with the audience.” Ken turned his attention back to Travis. “They’re gonna love you, son.”

Thirty seconds? Summer barely had enough time as it was to fit in everything she wanted to cover. She’d spent hours trimming here and there so she could add a segment she liked to call “Today in Weather History.” She’d been gathering interesting weather facts for weeks. They could not take thirty seconds from her and give them to some stupid, former football player.

“I can’t give you thirty seconds,” she said over the din. The room immediately fell silent. All eyes were on Summer.

“What’s that?” Ken’s smile disappeared and his right eyebrow twitched. He didn’t like being told no.

Summer cleared her throat and dug down deep for the courage she’d inherited from her parents. “I’ve been working on this special segment, and I need all the time I’ve been allotted. I don’t have thirty seconds to give to sports.”

Ken put his hands on his hips and looked down at his feet. Summer could see him wrestling with himself to stay polite. He raised his head and met Summer’s stare. “That’s all well and good, but your special segment is going to take a backseat to Travis right now. Everyone needs to be flexible here.”

“Well, it seems to me, I’m the only one being asked to bend. Sports already gets a minute more than weather. It’s not fair.”

Ken laughed and scratched his head. “Life’s not fair, Summer. Didn’t your mama ever teach you that? My decision is final.”

The entire newsroom looked back at Summer, waiting for her to do something stupid, like argue with him. But she kept her mouth shut, Ken ended the meeting and everyone went back to work. Everyone except Summer. She needed time to stew, her anger and frustration heating her body from the inside out.

Her sulk was quickly interrupted by one Mr. Lockwood. “I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced. Travis Lockwood.” His outstretched hand waited for hers. Summer glared at it before her manners got the best of her and she extended her hand.

“Summer Raines.” She left off her usual “pleasure to meet you.” She was madder than a wet hen but was determined to maintain her composure.

“Summer Raines, the weather girl,” he said with a chuckle. “That’s a good one. Who came up with that name?”

“My parents,” she replied flatly, turning her attention back to the suffering butterfly population. “And my title is meteorologist. Not weather girl.”

He had the nerve to appear abashed. “Sorry. No disrespect intended. Weather girl just fits better. You’re cute, it’s cute. Meteorologist sounds old and decrepit. More like...” He tipped his head in the direction of the noisy fan. “...that guy.”

Summer refused to laugh, even if he was funny. She was also going to ignore that he’d called her cute. “All right, well, some of us need to get back to work on cutting thirty seconds from our report.”

“I’m real sorry about that. I am. I don’t want to step on any toes. Ken has high hopes for me, but I’m a team player. I promise you.” He sat on the edge of her desk, oblivious of the cold shoulder she was attempting to give him.

She looked over at him. Those dimples were almost too much. It didn’t help that he smelled good, like sunshine and soap. Besides the messy hair, he was the epitome of the all-American guy. A big, strong man with a chiseled jaw and a six-pack under his white dress shirt. He probably had a cheerleader at home and two more on the side. Summer was going to steer clear. Men like him were nothing but trouble. Then she looked into his eyes. They were the color of the sky just before it rained. His mouth smiled, but his eyes carried his storm. Whatever the trouble was, she suddenly felt guilty for being unkind.

She sighed. “It’s fine. It’s not your fault. My issue is with Ken.”

Travis brightened instantly. “Good. I’m glad there aren’t any hard feelings between us.”

Nope, no hard feelings. No feelings at all. He could go be cute and charming somewhere else. But he didn’t move. He sat there, staring at her. His attention made her nervous. When Summer got nervous, her brain did unusual things. “Did you know that even though most of the country has been dealing with excessive heat and drought conditions, Anchorage had its coldest July on record?”

Instead of wandering away confused and annoyed the way everyone else did when she spouted random facts, Travis leaned forward, looking interested. “Really? That’s weird, huh?”

“Travis!” Rachel sashayed over, hand on hip and lipstick newly applied. “Now, don’t you worry your pretty little head about Summer. She’s the only one in Abilene who cares more about weather than football. Want me to give you a private tour of the studio before we go on the air?”

“Sure.” Travis stood up and turned his attention back to the weather girl. “Looking forward to working with you, Summer.”

She nodded. “I’m sure it’s going to be great.”

Rachel pursed her lips and scrunched up her nose. Be nice, she mouthed silently from behind Travis. The two of them left Summer alone with her discontented thoughts.

Had she really just let Travis the Time Stealer make her nervous? Did he really think he could turn on the charm and hope all would be forgiven? No way. Summer was going to find a way to reclaim her thirty seconds. One way or another, she would get her “This Day in Weather History” segment. Travis and Ken could count on that.

* * *

BY THE TIME the five o’clock news rolled around, dusty gray clouds had moved in over Abilene and the rest of Big Country. Even though none of the computer models were predicting rain, Summer was going to promise some. During the commercial before her report, Travis walked by the green screen.

“Do y’all say break a leg or something before you go on?”

“Um, no. No one says that,” Summer replied, trying not to laugh. The sound assistant adjusted her mic while Pete, one of the engineering techs, made sure the lighting was right.

“Well, good luck, then, Weather Girl.” Travis started to walk toward the news desk but stopped. “You should wear blue every day.”

Her mouth dropped open. “Huh?”

“It looks nice. Makes your eyes stand out.” He pointed at her face as though she’d forgotten where her eyes were located. “You have amazing eyes.”

Summer was momentarily speechless. She looked over at a scowling Rachel, who practically had smoke blowing out her ears. “Funny. I was actually encouraged not to wear blue today. It kills bears in Chicago or something.”

Rachel pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head. Travis’s brow furrowed. “The color blue kills bears? For real?”

“I think. Maybe not. I heard that somewhere, but that person was probably wrong because why in the world would blue have anything to do with bears? I mean, that makes no sense, right? I’m sure bears like blue,” Summer rambled. How she wished she’d remained speechless. Her nerves took over. “Did you know that even though Chicago is called the Windy City, it doesn’t even rank in the top ten windiest cities in the U.S.?”

“Really?”

“Really. Blue Hill, Massachusetts, is actually the windiest city.”

“Blue Hill?” Travis smiled. “Are you messin’ with me?”

“I never mess around about the weather.”

“Ten seconds,” the director called out. “Places, everyone.”

Summer shook her head, trying to clear it of all this nonsense brought on by the man who needed an extra thirty seconds. She closed her eyes and pictured an F5 tornado blowing through town and taking Richard, Ken, Rachel and Travis with it. Once all the troublemakers in her life were swept away by her imaginary tornado, Summer felt back in control. She opened her eyes just as the light above the camera turned on.

Summer cut the national outlook out of her segment and somehow managed to fit her entire forecast into the little time she’d been given.

“Everyone, including the National Weather Service, says we shouldn’t expect precipitation anytime soon. But, believe it or not, I say the rain will fall tonight across most of West Central Texas,” she said, ending her report over at the news desk.

“Well, if Summer Raines says we’re going to get some unexpected showers, I’ll be grabbing my umbrella on the way out tonight, for sure.” Rachel shot a big, fake smile into the camera. No one would believe she was staring daggers at Summer a few minutes ago.

“I do so appreciate your faith in me, Rachel,” Summer returned sweetly.

The control room switched to Camera 2 so Rachel and Brian could introduce Travis. Summer hung around to watch, something she’d never done when Bud was on the air. Travis was nervous and it showed. Sweat made his moppy hair stick to his forehead. He fluctuated between speaking too fast and not fast enough. Maybe he was one of those athletes who’d been pushed through school without having to actually learn things, like how to read. That or the words on the Teleprompter were written in Chinese. He saved himself a little when he bantered with Rachel and Brian. He was better unscripted.

By the ten o’clock newscast, someone must have given him a few pointers. He managed to maintain a stable rate of speech, though it was still too fast. He ad-libbed more and wiped the sweat off his forehead during the highlight clips.

The viewers—and their colleagues—would probably still love him. People cut guys like Travis more slack than they deserved. If he ever figured out how to read, Summer would have to kiss her thirty seconds goodbye for good. She hung out in the Stormwatch Room, avoiding being seen in the newsroom sulking. She checked up on the storm in the Atlantic that had picked up enough speed to be classified as a hurricane. It would die out at sea, though. This day in weather history, Hurricane Nadine raged and whipped across the water. It maxed out at wind speeds of eighty-five miles per hour. No one in Abilene would ever know about it because all they cared about were Travis Lockwood’s thoughts on the Dallas Cowboys’ preseason.

The lights were low in the newsroom when Summer finally dared to show her face. All the producers and writers had gone home for the night. Ken’s office was lit up behind drawn shades. He was likely congratulating himself with a glass of his secret whiskey he only broke out on special occasions. Still feeling defeated, Summer shut down her computer and picked up her bag and umbrella.

“You heading home?”

She jumped. Travis was leaning against the wall across from the elevators, somehow still managing to look as if he just stepped off the pages of GQ.

“It’s about that time, I guess.” She fiddled with her umbrella, spinning it on its pointy tip.

“You really can tell when it’s going to rain? Even when the computers say differently?”

“What do computers really know?” Summer shot back. “Sometimes I think people have forgotten how to trust those feelings we all get. That tickle on the back of your neck right before something bad happens. The knot in your gut when something’s not right. The way your heart tells you to stay or go.”

The elevator arrived and the doors opened. Travis pushed off the wall and followed Summer inside. “Hearts can be fickle. Hard to trust,” he said. His eyes stayed focused on the numbers above the door as they lit up.

“True.” Summer’s heart had played a trick or two on her before. “But usually we aren’t listening close enough.”

Travis nodded. That storm inside him had done some damage, that much was clear.

“So, was reporting about sports all you imagined it would be?” she asked as they reached the bottom floor. The doors opened and they made their way to the exit.

“I thought those who can’t play can at least talk about it. Turns out it’s harder than people like you make it look.”

“You did fine,” she said, to be polite.

“I was terrible.”

Summer couldn’t argue with his self-assessment. She almost felt bad for him until he held open the door for her and took note of the very dry parking lot.

“I don’t know, Weather Girl. I think you might be losing your touch.”

Summer couldn’t hold back her grin as the thunder rumbled overhead. She opened her big red umbrella and stepped outside. The skies let go, raindrops sending tiny dust clouds into the air where they hit the pavement. “What was that?” she asked. She cupped her ear with her free hand. “I can’t hear you over the rain and thunder.”

“Aren’t you going to offer to walk me to my car?” he shouted as she slowly backed away.

“I think you might be losing your touch, Lady-killer.” She picked up the pace. “Good night!”

It wasn’t a tornado, but watching Travis Lockwood get soaked to the bone as he ran to his fancy black sports car kind of made Summer’s day.

CHAPTER TWO

TRAVIS WAS HALFWAY out the door for his morning run when his phone rang. It was his mother, and he knew better than to ignore the call.

“Hey, Mom. Did you watch last night?”

“Did I watch last night? Of course I did! You were so great.” Her definition of “great” must have been skewed by motherly devotion. “Your aunt Kelly called me right away to say you looked so handsome. And I just got off the phone with your brother. He thought you did super. Well, except he disagrees with your opinion of the Cowboys’ defense, but you know Conner. He’s decided the Texans are the only team in the state worth watching this year.”

“What did Dad have to say?” Travis feared the answer but asked anyway. His father’s opinion was never affected by silly emotion.

His mother paused. Not a good sign. “You know your father. He was so tired last night and was asleep before the news came on. I recorded it, though. I’ll make sure he watches.”

His dad hadn’t even bothered to watch. Travis was used to hearing his father’s long list of things he needed to work on before the next game, but complete apathy was something he hadn’t expected. Postgame criticism never hurt this badly. Was this what he had to look forward to? Disappointment masked as indifference?

Travis was having a hard enough time dealing with his own disappointment. His football career was over before it had truly had a chance to begin. One and a half seasons; that was all he got before a Chicago Bears linebacker sacked him and reinjured his shoulder. Playing football was all he knew. Since he was six years old, Travis had worked endless hours to be the best quarterback to come out of Texas. His father had been his coach until he was twelve. Then his parents hired the first private quarterback coach. The expectations were high and the pressure increased exponentially over time. Outside of football, his dad apparently had no expectations of him.

“Listen, Mom. I was about to head out for a run before work. I’ll call you in a couple of days, all right?”

“Sounds good. Don’t worry about your dad, honey. Training camp started and he’s in mourning, I guess. But he’ll come around. You’ll see. We love you, Travis. You know that.”

“I know. Love you, too. Gotta run.” He hung up and pushed his earbuds in, turning up the music good and loud. Travis never doubted his mother’s love. The woman had doted on him his entire life regardless of how he did on the field. His father’s love always felt more conditional. When the doctors informed them Travis’s shoulder injury was career-ending, he had seen the look on his father’s face. All the work, all the time, all the money he’d put into Travis was wasted. All his father’s hopes and dreams died that day.

Mourning. His dad was mourning more than training camp.

Travis tried to clear his mind as he ran. He welcomed the burn in his legs and the ache in his chest as he hit the six-mile mark. The air was still a little thick from the rain last night, though there was no sign of it on the pavement. Travis shook his head at the memory of the girl with the red umbrella running to her car. Summer Raines. That girl was unusual, to say the least.

Women loved Travis. Back in high school and college, they lined up to get nothing more than a minute of his time.And his year and a half in the NFL? He could have dated a different woman every week.

He didn’t do that, though. He had one girlfriend in high school, went out with a couple of girls in college and found himself a pretty lady who wanted to marry him during his first year with the Dolphins. But Brooke went running for the hills as soon as she found out Travis Lockwood wasn’t going to be the next Dan Marino.

Fickle hearts. Stupid, fickle hearts.

Losing his career was tough. Losing faith in the person he thought was his true love was devastating. Travis’s life had been on a nice, straight path, then all of a sudden it took a very sharp right. Then a left, before he spun out. Now he didn’t know which direction he was headed. He was alone and unsure if that was the way it should be. After Brooke took his ring and stomped on his heart, trust would never come easily to him again.

Six months after his last football game, Travis picked up the pieces of his broken heart and his busted shoulder and returned to Sweetwater to start over. He was still loved throughout West Central Texas even if he couldn’t play ball anymore. Everybody knew who he was and still thought he was worth something. Ken Collins thought he was worth something. He called Travis up and asked if he wanted to use that communications degree he’d earned. Sportscasting wasn’t Travis’s dream job, but hell, neither was football. Football had simply been his only option. When he couldn’t play anymore, reporting on it seemed like a decent alternative— at least until Travis could figure out what he really wanted to do with his life.

The problem with reporting seemed to be that he wasn’t very good at it. It was probably for the best that his dad hadn’t watched him fail. It was only a matter of time before he disappointed Ken the way he’d let his dad down. Travis needed to work harder if he didn’t want to end up unemployed again. Everyone at the station had welcomed him with open arms. Well, almost everyone. Summer Raines wasn’t impressed. She didn’t know who he was or what he had accomplished in his life. She didn’t seem to know or care much about football at all. The weather girl was dedicated to her craft—period.

Travis sped up, sweat dripping down his forehead. He wiped it out of his eyes with the back of his hand. He was in the zone now, his body working like a well-oiled machine. No one who saw him running would suspect he was damaged beyond repair. Of course, out here there was no one trying to throw him down on the ground, looking to completely destroy his weakened shoulder. He was in great physical shape, just not for the one thing he thought he was born to do.

He pushed himself harder than usual. Rachel would likely give him some on-air pointers. She came off as more than willing to mentor the newcomer. So unlike the weather girl, who was excellent at her job but didn’t seem to be much of a team player. Both women were experienced reporters. He also couldn’t deny they were attractive. Rachel had a face that was made for television—a friendly smile, high cheekbones and porcelain skin. Summer had long blond hair with a little curl and the prettiest eyes he had ever seen.

As he sprinted back toward his house, he thought about how the last thing he needed was to give someone else a chance to break what was left of his heart. Rachel had been incredibly kind to him on his first day, but her intentions were familiarly questionable. She was too impressed with who Travis had been. Summer didn’t like him. She had made that clear, and maybe that was what made her a safe mentor. He’d never get caught in the rain unprepared, and there was no chance they’d ever fall in love. It was a win-win for him, and it’d been a long time since Travis had won at anything.

* * *

“YOU REMEMBER PLAYING Wylie your senior year? My son was tight end. Maybe you remember him— Sean Harper? Number 80. He was a junior. Made all-conference his senior year.”

Travis had played in thousands of football games. He remembered lots of opponents. He knew all the quarterbacks, several linemen, a handful of linebackers. Tight ends? Not so many. But the portly man with the bright green tie sitting beside him looked so desperate for Travis to recall his son, he lied.

“Sean Harper from Wylie.” He paused as though he was trying to place him. “Oh yeah, tight end. He was a helluva player. Where’d he go after high school?”

Mr. Harper was beaming. “He went to A&M. Didn’t play ball. Graduates this spring with a degree in accounting.”

“You must be very proud.”

“He’s got a bright future ahead of him. His mom and I couldn’t be prouder.” Mr. Harper smiled and went back to his lunch. Bright future. Travis remembered what it felt like to have one of those. Suddenly, his shoulder ached and his stomach hurt. He tried to get in a couple bites before someone else asked him a football-related question, reminding him once again that his future wasn’t looking nearly as good as Sean Harper’s.

Making an appearance for the station at the Abilene Rotary Club luncheon sounded like a dream until Travis realized how little eating would actually be involved. After helping to present a service award to a gangly, pimply-faced teenager, he’d been bombarded with a million questions. The small banquet hall was filled with many of Abilene’s finest, people who cared enough to give back to their community. Businessmen and businesswomen, local leaders, regular citizens who found purpose in promoting goodwill through their fellowship. Travis was surrounded by very nice people. Very nice people who wanted to talk to the fallen hero of West Central Texas. Each time he lifted his fork to his mouth, he was thwarted by another question.

“What channel do you work for again?” a woman with silver hair asked from across the table.

“He’s over at Channel 6 with Rachel Crow and that weather girl who always knows when it’s going to rain,” Mr. Harper replied, allowing Travis to indulge in his first bite of the chicken that had been cooling on his plate.

“Oh, Summer Raines.” The woman smiled. “I love her.”

“You have to tell us,” another gentleman in a dark blue blazer said, his eyes crinkling in the corners. “Is it true she has magic powers? Can she really predict when it’s going to rain, or is it a gimmick?”

Travis’s mouth was full of some of the best mashed potatoes he’d had in a long time. He swallowed them quickly as all eyes turned on him. It was strange to talk about something other than his football past—or lack of a football future. Summer Raines had offered him a reprieve, and she wasn’t even here. “Well, I haven’t been working there long enough to be sure, but I don’t think it’s magic. She’s just real good at her job.”

“Rumor is she’s a witch,” one of the younger women at the table whispered. “That’s why she’s so connected with nature. Wicca, they call it.”

Travis snorted. Were these people serious? Travis didn’t know the woman well, but she sure wasn’t a witch. “I don’t think she’s a witch. She takes the weather seriously. Spends a lot of time looking at things online. Maps and radars, you know. Weather stuff.” He had no idea what he was talking about. The other diners stared as though they could tell.

“She’s the only one I trust. She’s always right,” the gray-haired woman said, breaking the silence.

The man beside her agreed. “Never been wrong in all the time I’ve watched.”

Travis was impressed. He drank some iced tea and finished his lunch while the table continued to discuss the storms Summer had predicted. The weather girl was quite the legend in her own right. If he could learn from her, Travis might be able to pull this sportscasting thing off.

* * *

THE NEWSROOM WAS quieter today. Yesterday everyone had bombarded Travis with their memories of games they had watched him play over the years. One of the producers had been following Travis’s career since he was in Pee Wee. Today, people were still friendly, but not as in-his-face. There was only one face he wanted to get in front of, and she was already at her desk, on her computer.

“Good afternoon, Weather Girl.”

Her annoyance at that nickname was obvious. Her naturally pink cheeks flushed red and made him smile. She hated him and he loved it.

“Mr. Lockwood, good to see you were able to dry off after last night,” she quipped.

Travis’s laugh was deep. How he’d missed laughing for real and not for show. “I plan on telling Ken it’s entirely your fault if I catch a cold.”

“I don’t control the weather, I just predict it.” She turned her attention back to her monitor. Her soft-looking curls fell down like a curtain, shielding her face from him. He wanted to reach out and push them behind her ear so he could see those cheeks, those eyes. Her eyes really were amazing. They were big and blue like the Texas sky.

He sat on the edge of her desk. She flipped her hair off her shoulder and side-eyed him, saying nothing. He picked up the framed photo of a young couple and a curly-haired, little girl in front of something that looked like a souped-up tank. She snatched it out of his hands and set it back in its place. “Is there something you need? Maybe you’re looking to unload thirty seconds from your segment? Or are you just here to bother me?”

“I was the special guest at the Abilene Rotary Club’s luncheon today. They think you have magic powers. Said you’ve never been wrong about when it’s going to rain.” He left out the part where they wondered if she was a witch.

“No magic powers,” she said, trying to look disinterested.

“That’s what I said. I told them it was nothing but luck, and odds were you’d get it wrong one of these days.”

Summer stopped what she was doing and turned her whole body in his direction. “Did you, now?”

Finally, he had her full attention. He smiled. Most ladies loved the dimples, but they only seemed to fuel Summer’s fire. “I mean, if it’s not magic, what else could it be?”

“You were a football player before this, correct?”

He liked how she had to ask, as if she wasn’t completely sure. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Does that not require any intuition at all? Or do you just learn how to play and that’s it? Anybody with any athletic ability can do it?”

Again, she made him laugh. “Anyone can play. But to be good, you need to read more than a playbook.”

“Exactly,” she said with a smile and a wave of her hand. “I read more than the radar. I can’t explain how it works, I just feel it. I’m sure there are things you can’t teach someone about football. They just know it or they don’t.”

“Well, that’s probably true. My mom swears I was born wearing a helmet. I probably know more about football than I want to.” That was the truth. He had slept, eaten, drunk and breathed football his entire life. “Anytime you want to learn something about the game, I’d be happy to teach you.”

She froze, her pretty pink lips parted. He’d hit the nerve he was looking for. Football held about as much of her interest as watching paint dry held his. She turned forward and shook her head. “I don’t want to learn about football.”

“Maybe you could teach me about predicting the rain, then?” Travis knew all about defensive strategy. She could block his pass all afternoon, but he wasn’t going to stop trying for that touchdown.

She shook her head again. “You don’t want to hear about weather forecasting.”

“I do. I swear.”

“Go away, Mr. Lockwood.”

“You’re leaving me no choice,” he warned. “I’m gonna have to tell everyone at the Rotary Club it’s magic.”

Summer dropped her face into her hands and groaned in frustration. She was too much fun. It took so little to get her riled up. Sitting back up, she swiveled her chair in his direction and narrowed her eyes. “What do you want to know? That it dates back to 650 B.C.? Or how the Babylonians tried to make guesses based on things like cloud formations and other atmospheric phenomena?” He saw something in her eyes flicker. She truly lived for this stuff. “I mean, can you imagine? How accurate could they have been back then? If they did ever get it right, I think those people were simply more in tune with nature. Genetically, as a species, we—”

She stopped and snapped her mouth shut. Travis was entranced; he wanted her to continue. To have someone actually talk to him about something other than what he did when he was in a uniform was refreshing. “What? We what?”

Summer looked up at him, searching. She stood abruptly. “I’m not going to talk about weather only to have you laugh about it later with everyone else in the newsroom,” she snapped. Before he could respond, she took off for the one place he couldn’t follow—the dreaded ladies’ room.

“Don’t mind her.” Travis spun around to find Rachel twirling a strand of hair. “She’s a little socially inept. I think she’s one of those savants. The kind of person who knows a whole bunch about one thing in particular but lacks social graces.”

If she thought speaking of a coworker that way was somehow becoming, she was wrong. Summer’s fear that he’d mock her made complete sense now. One thing he’d learned about women over the years was that the ones who tore down the others deserved his respect the least. Brooke had been a woman-basher, always pointing out the faults in the women she called friends. Travis had no time for that in his life anymore.

“Have you seen Ken? I need to check in with him.”

Rachel’s forehead creased. She was clearly shocked by his disregard for her comments about the weather girl. “He’s probably in his office,” she said, regaining her composure.

Travis nodded and took off. He figured there was only one way to earn Summer’s trust and therefore her help. He had to convince Ken that Summer needed her thirty seconds back.

CHAPTER THREE

THE MORNING SUN was no more forgiving than the one that beat down any other time of day in September. Summer fanned herself with the church bulletin.

“Excellent sermon today, pastor,” her grandfather said, shaking Pastor John’s hand.

“Thank you, David. I meant to ask Summer if we should be praying for more rain or not. You got us a little bit earlier in the week, but it wasn’t enough.”

Summer loved that people thought she had some sort of control over the rain because she forecasted it. Predicting and causing were unfortunately two very different things, but meteorologists got blamed for weather conditions regardless. “Never hurts to pray,” she replied.

“Isn’t that the truth?” The pastor smiled kindly. “We’ll see you next Sunday, Miss Raines.”

Summer followed her grandparents back to the house. They always walked to church unless the weather prevented it. Some people were born for this heat. David and Sarah Raines were two of those people.

“So, tell me about this new sportscaster y’all got over there at Channel 6 now.” Summer’s grandmother hooked arms with her and patted her hand. “I thought he was kind of cute.”

Summer’s eyes rolled behind her sunglasses. Travis was annoyingly cute and ridiculously humble. He was also the reason Summer had to talk faster during her report. Her blood boiled. She fanned herself a little faster.

“He’s barely capable of doing what he’s being paid to do, Mimi. I’m sure we stole a few viewers away from Channel 4 last week, but I’m not so sure they’re going to come back for more.”

“I think if he were on Channel 4, I’d switch over after you were done so I could see him.” Mimi winked and tugged on her arm. The woman always had a devilish look in her eyes—eyes that were the same blue as Summer’s. People always told her she looked like her grandmother. Mimi’s blond hair was a tad lighter but had the same gentle curl, although no one would ever know it because she always wore it in a long braid that fell down her back.

“You hear that, Big D?” Summer leaned forward to get her gentle giant of a grandfather’s attention. He walked without a care on Mimi’s other side. “You okay with her ogling the new sports guy every night?”

He shook his head at their nonsense. “She can look all she wants. She knows she’s stuck with this old man until the good Lord takes me away. Then she can get herself an upgrade.”

Mimi’s sigh was loud and exaggerated. “Knowing how stubborn your granddad is, he’ll probably outlive me and be the lucky one who gets to trade up.”

Summer laughed. “That’s probably best. They don’t make men like they used to. I don’t think you could upgrade if you were given the chance.”

Big D reached behind his wife and placed his hand on his granddaughter’s back. “You’re a good girl, Summer.”

Sundays were always the same—church and lunch with her grandparents, followed by a quiet evening at home...alone. Summer didn’t mind being by herself, but she enjoyed the first part of the day much more than the second. She loved working in the garden with Mimi or sharing the newspaper with Big D. Her grandparents were so different from her parents. They loved their simple life. They believed in putting down roots. They’d both lived in Abilene their entire lives. Before he retired, her grandfather had taught environmental science at the Christian university in town for over thirty years while her grandmother stayed home and raised three children. Summer’s father was the youngest and the only boy. Gavin Raines was more like a leaf in the wind rather than a tree rooted in the ground.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice how you deflected the conversation away from the sports guy,” Mimi said later as they put the finishing touches on an apple pie.

Summer smashed her lips together. She was not going to spill any of the feelings she was having about Travis. No matter how perceptive her grandmother thought she was being, there was nothing to tell. There was never going to be anything between Summer and the ex-football player who couldn’t read a Teleprompter to save his life. His presence at the station ruined her chances of doing more than reporting the highs and lows for the week. All Summer wanted was to share her passion for Mother Nature. Was that too much to ask?

She opened the oven and put the pie in before setting the timer. “Did you know that in ten minutes, a hurricane can release more energy than all the world’s nuclear weapons combined?”

“Well, well.” Mimi rubbed her hands together with a gleeful look in her eye. “There must be a really good story about this boy if I’m gettin’ weather facts.”

“There was a hurricane near Haiti earlier this week. I find hurricanes quite fascinating,” Summer said in her defense.

“I think you find something else more fascinating than you want to admit.”

“He took thirty seconds of my weather report away. I find nothing the least bit fascinating about him or football. Football, football, football! Do people in Texas not know there are other things happening in the world besides football?”

Mimi bit her tongue, trying not to infuriate her already irrational granddaughter. Summer had moved to Abilene when she was sixteen and never quite acclimated to the Texas way of life. Being raised by hard-core storm chasers probably hadn’t helped. “Oh, sweetheart, it’s not his fault that football reigns supreme around these parts. You can’t hold the general public’s preferences against him.”

Summer sat back down at the kitchen table, flustered. She hated that it was so easy for him. He waltzed into the studio and all the viewers were going to love him no matter what. She didn’t love him. She didn’t even like him. She barely tolerated him. “He also calls me Weather Girl. Says it sounds cute.”

Mimi had to cover her mouth to stop her laughter from sending Summer into a real fit. “He thinks you’re cute, doesn’t he?”

Summer crossed her arms as she narrowed her eyes at the old woman. “If it weren’t for the apple pie, I would so be going home right now.”

Big D walked into the kitchen wondering if he needed to call for an ambulance. His wife was laughing so hard, her face was bright red. Mimi got up, wiping her eyes and shaking her head. She shooed them both out so she could get lunch ready.

“She still giving you a hard time about that quarterback?” Big D asked. He’d always had a soft spot for his granddaughter, but it got bigger after her parents died. Summer knew it and never took advantage. It was nice having Big D looking out for her, even when he only had to protect her from nosy grandmothers.

“She just wants me to get married before she dies. I figure the longer I drag it out, the longer she’ll stick around. Maybe I’ll wait until she’s a hundred.”

He looked up at the ceiling pleadingly. “Lord, help me.”

“Be nice,” Summer warned.

“She wants you to be happy, darlin’. That’s all she wants.”

She wanted them to be happy, too. When her dad died, so did a little piece of them. Summer’s presence helped, healed some of the wounds. Still, one thing she’d learned in the hard years since her parents’ deaths—people don’t get over burying a child. Mimi was having a good day today, but next week was the anniversary of her son and daughter-in-law’s deaths. As feisty as the old woman in the other room was, she still suffered from a broken heart. The dark days were coming. Summer could feel it.

“I am happy.” Big D gave her a knowing look from his oversize recliner. “Most of the time,” she added.

“I never thought you’d stick around here. Not that I mind, of course. I just thought you’d be more like your daddy, I guess.”

Summer had two reasons why she stuck around, and they were both in this house. Part of her yearned to be in the thick of things, studying weather phenomena on location instead of reporting about them from the safety of a television studio. Nevertheless, she knew her grandmother wanted nothing more than for her to marry someone with roots in Texas and raise a family that would fill the dining room table every Sunday. Summer wasn’t looking for some guy to settle down with because she wasn’t sure she wanted to settle down. Sometimes she hoped there was a man out there who was going to blow into town and sweep her off her feet, take her away and show her the adventure of a lifetime. That was a secret she’d never dare tell.

“I’m good, Big D. Don’t you waste one more minute worrying about me.”

He sat forward and patted her knee with a weathered but gentle hand. “I could say the same thing to you, sweetheart.”

* * *

SUMMER SPENT ALL of Sunday night thinking about what her grandfather had said. She thought about it again while she waited for her turn to speak to a bunch of kids at one of the local libraries Monday afternoon. It also crossed her mind when she arrived at the station later and opened an email from Ryan.

I have big news when I see you. You won’t be able to say no this time. Your career as a boring, Texas weather girl is over.

Ryan was crazy. Wasn’t he? Being a meteorologist was the perfect job for her. Summer got paid to talk about the weather five days a week. What more could she ask for?

Adventure.

The truth was, the thrill of a storm chase was like nothing else she had ever known. She tried to appease the wild child inside her with rock climbing, hiking, even skydiving. Nothing came close. Summer loved the weather, but did she love being the—

“Weather Girl.” Travis was all smiles as he sat on the corner of her desk. “Did you have a good weekend?”

“I had a great weekend,” Summer said, taking a good look at him. His hair was shorter, a lot shorter. It made him look older, less like a boy and more like a man. “It looks like someone attacked your head with some clippers.”

Looking sheepish, he rubbed his clean-shaven jaw with his knuckles. “I got a haircut,” he said, stating the obvious. “My aunt Kelly’s neighbor’s book club apparently thought it was too long. Kelly agreed and called my mother, who called me and said she wasn’t going to bake any red velvet cupcakes when I came to visit if I didn’t get it cut.”

“She drives a hard bargain.”

“You have no idea. Her cupcakes make me cry,” he whispered.

“Interesting,” Summer said, not interested in the least.

“I’ll ask her to bake you some. She likes you.” He cringed and closed his eyes. His cheeks turned pink. “I mean she watches you and likes you, you know, as a weather girl.”

If anyone knew about sticking her foot in her mouth, it was Summer. “If it makes you feel any better, my grandmother thinks you’re cute,” she confessed to ease his embarrassment.

“She does?” His eyes were bright like the clouds had lifted. “And would you say you consider your grandmother a wise woman?”

“Oh, Mimi is completely off her rocker. I mean, she is more than a few cards short of a full deck. Bonkers. Mad as a hatter. Crazy as a—”

“Okay, okay!” Travis put his fingers on her lips. “I get it.”

Summer’s heart skipped a beat, then flew into overdrive. Before she could process this unexpected physical reaction, Travis pulled his hand away and shoved it deep in his pants pocket.

“Did you know that the highest temperature ever recorded was 136 degrees Fahrenheit in Azizia, Libya?” she blurted out. “Can you imagine?”

His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. “That’s crazy hot.”

“Summer, Travis. Can you two come here a minute?” Ken called from the doorway of his office, breaking the tension.

Travis stood up and smiled. “I talked to him about giving your thirty seconds back.”

Her thirty seconds. Summer made a mad dash to Ken’s door. She could barely contain her excitement as she took a seat and waited for the two men to settle in. Maybe Travis wasn’t so bad after all.

“I want to run through your upcoming appearances. You guys know about the Balloon Festival in a couple weeks?”

“I’m running in the 10K, so I’ll be there all day,” Summer announced anxiously. She wanted him to get to the part about her thirty seconds.

“You run?” Travis asked, seeming surprised. Summer nodded and bit her tongue. Was it really that shocking? Was he unaware of the fact that women could run? Did she not look like a runner?

“Well, you two don’t need to be there until three o’clock. Brian and Rachel will be kicking off the event in the morning. You’ll need to be there after the balloon launch. I’m sending some head shots for Travis to autograph. I think we could get a lot of traffic.”

Abilene hosted an annual hot-air balloon festival to raise money for local charities. It attracted tens of thousands of people as well as local and national media attention. KLVA sent reporters to cover the event and held a meet and greet with some of the station’s personalities. Above and beyond Rachel and their anchor, Brian, Travis was certain to be a big draw this year. Summer loved the Balloon Fest, but she dreaded having to spend the afternoon dealing with the football god and his disciples. This obsession with a man who threw a ball to other men made absolutely no sense to her.

Ken was momentarily distracted by an email alert. He slid his reading glasses off the top of his head and onto his face. He took his sweet time reading the message and typing a response.

“I run,” Travis whispered.

“That’s super,” Summer whispered back. Did he want a medal? Did he not get enough attention for his previous career? Clearly he needed recognition for being able to run, as well.

“Okay.” Ken turned away from the computer. “There’s also the Rodeo Parade next month. You’ll both need to be available for that, too.”

“No problem,” they said at the same time.

“Perfect. Then I’ve only got one other thing.” Ken sat back, took his glasses off and set them on his desk. “Travis came to talk to me earlier about giving the thirty seconds back to weather.”

“I appreciate that,” Summer said, meaning it wholeheartedly.

“He and I discussed it, and I think I came up with the greatest idea,” Ken continued.

Summer’s smile faltered a bit. Ken had come up with an idea? Wasn’t the idea giving weather back its thirty seconds?

“So, picture this,” Ken said, holding his hands up as if he were framing the scene. “Instead of weather getting an extra thirty seconds each night, we add a whole special segment once a week.”

Summer almost leaped out of her seat. A segment? A special segment? Her grandmother was right. Travis was cute. He was unbelievably cute. He was maybe the cutest guy she had ever met. “I am so glad you changed your mind,” she said in a rush. “Like I told you a few weeks ago, I’ve been working on this weather history—”

Ken held up his hand to stop her. “Summer, Summer, hold on there. Let me finish.”

The knot in her stomach told her something was wrong. Something was very wrong. She stole a glance in Travis’s direction. He was rubbing the back of his neck, and his tension only added to her worry.

“Travis is going to bring a lot of viewers to the station, but he needs some—” Ken smiled at Travis apologetically before turning back to Summer “—polishing if we want to keep the viewers from switching back to Channel 4. You’re a natural when it comes to reporting. You two are both young, attractive people. I’ve seen you banter in the newsroom. I like it. I like it a lot. I like it so much, I want to combine weather and sports during football season.” His steepled fingers slid together to join his two hands.

Summer felt the heat rising up her chest. This was not what she wanted to hear.

“We send you two to do special on-location reports. Summer tells everybody how hot it is on the field and Travis talks about how hot the action is. He’ll learn a thing or two from you. The viewers will eat you two up. It’s brilliant. We’ll do a couple of the high-school games to warm you up. Local games here in Abilene, Sweetwater’s homecoming and then I want to send you down to Austin. Travis’s alma mater. Summer in a Longhorns T-shirt. It’s gonna be magic.”

There were no words. No words for what Summer was feeling. She was being asked to report the weather at a football game. At several football games. No “This Day in Weather History.” No escape from the nightmare that had begun when Travis Lockwood stepped into the newsroom.

“So, what do you think? You love it?” Ken looked back and forth between them with a huge, ugly smile.

Travis cleared his throat. Twice. “Ah, I think I’m game if Summer’s game. I mean, as I said earlier, I want to prove myself—prove you didn’t made a mistake hiring me.”

Summer was having an out-of-body experience. She was no longer sitting in the chair. She hovered above everyone, looking down at the disastrous scene. Ken was all too pleased with himself, and when he came up with ideas like this, there was no stopping him. Nothing she said would make a difference, but she tried anyway.

“A Texas game means you want us to work on the weekend. Richard’s not going to like that. He thinks things are unfair already. If I take the weekends, too, no telling what kind of fit he’ll throw.” Her voice shook slightly as she fought to keep herself together.

“I don’t really care what Richard will and won’t like. We’re talking one Saturday. Most of these segments will be local high-school games on Friday nights. Maybe we’ll send you to Dallas for a Cowboys game.” Ken’s focus went back to Travis. “You think you could work your connections to get us some one-on-ones? Maybe you and Romo? Travis! This is the best idea I’ve ever had!”

The walls began to close in on Summer. She needed to get out. She needed to leave the building. Without saying a word, she bolted from the office, past the elevators and straight to the stairwell. Her footsteps echoed as she made her way down.

“Summer!”

Her name didn’t even register until she had pushed open the heavy door into the lobby. She couldn’t face Travis right now. Oh, the things she might say if she opened her mouth. This was his fault. If he hadn’t come to work at Channel 6, she wouldn’t be dealing with these changes. She certainly wouldn’t have to go to football games every week. Weather would be nothing but a second thought on those days.

Fueled by her frustration, Summer exited through the building’s revolving doors. The afternoon sun momentarily blinded her, and in her frantic need to get away, she bumped into a passerby. Shielding her eyes, she apologized to the man and kept moving with no destination in mind. Maybe Ryan was right. Maybe what Summer needed was an escape from it all. Why did she want to be a stupid weather girl anyway?

A hand wrapped around her arm, and Travis tugged her to a stop. “Summer, please. Don’t be mad.”

“Don’t be mad?” Her anger rose. “First you take thirty seconds. Now you talk Ken into getting your own special segment? And I have to be dragged along with you?”

“I didn’t ask him for anything,” he said, letting her go and sounding exasperated. “All I’m trying to do is find a way to do this job and do it well.”

“Do it well? You can’t even read the prompter!” If she was going to tell him how she felt, she was going to let all the ugly out. “You come in here with no experience, no résumé, nothing! You got this job because of who you were, not who you are. You smile and you charm everyone, but I know you’re a fraud. You’re nothing but a big fraud who took my thirty seconds. I’ve been asking Ken for a special weather segment for months and he gives the time to you instead. I shouldn’t be mad? What should I be exactly?”

There was no boyish grin, no twinkling eyes. Travis looked pissed and not afraid to show it. He stepped forward, and Summer’s back pressed against the warm brick behind her. He caged her in with his arms. His rock-hard body barely an inch from hers made it hard to concentrate. “I didn’t take your stupid thirty seconds. They were given to me. I didn’t ask for them. I didn’t plot to ruin your life. I simply took the job I was offered. And maybe I don’t have any experience, but I’m willing to learn. Maybe I am a fraud, but I’m not your punching bag.”

Summer felt as if her chest was going to break open from the pounding of her heart. She opened her mouth to say something but could think of nothing. He was right. She was blaming him for things that weren’t really under his control.

Travis stepped back and ran his fingers through his too-short-to-tug hair. “I don’t know what I’m doing or why I’m doing it. But you don’t know me.” He laughed without humor. “Here I thought that was a good thing,” he said more to himself than her. He looked her in the eye, casting no doubt on his sincerity. “I tried to give you your time back. I asked Ken to do that, but he came up with this instead. I’m sorry football offends you so much. I’m sorry I offend you so much. Be mad. I don’t really care.”

With that, he stormed back inside, leaving Summer breathing heavily and filled with regret. She had cast him as the villain for no other reason than to make herself the victim. Summer was mad all right—mad at herself.

CHAPTER FOUR

TRAVIS WAS NO stranger to hard work. He was never one to back down from a challenge or to give up without a fight. He’d been fortunate that his talent on the football field made things easier for him. For every loss there were ten wins. Travis wasn’t afraid of losing, though. There was only one thing he truly feared—failure. Failing wasn’t the same as losing. Losing was temporary. Failing meant there was no coming back. His football career was a failure. He would not meet the goals his father had set for him or the ones he had set for himself. And according to the Weather Girl, his career in sportscasting was destined to end in failure, as well.

She’d called him a fraud, which was true. He didn’t know the first thing about reporting. He tried faking it, but that wasn’t working as well as he’d hoped. Summer also wanted to blame him for all her problems. As if having to attend a football game once a week was the worst problem in the world to have. She needed to get over herself. The world didn’t revolve around the weather or football. Travis had learned that the hard way. As much as he enjoyed their harmless banter, he wouldn’t accept her wrath. It was one thing to be uninterested. It was another to be mean.

Summer could be as mad as she wanted. He didn’t care anymore—not about the length of her weather report, and not about her. From now on if he needed someone to tell him what a loser he was, he’d call his father. He also didn’t need Summer pointing out he wasn’t good enough. He had an ex-fiancée who had made that clear when she left him. Summer’s opinion didn’t matter.

Travis pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. Maybe Ken was right. Maybe going to these football games would help him. Obviously he needed the ego boost more than he thought. He’d be able to forget all about his current shortcomings by living it up in Austin or Dallas for a weekend.

Of course, what Ken didn’t know was that Travis had no pull in the NFL anymore. He was damaged goods. People around these parts still worshipped the ground he walked on, but in the big leagues, he was nothing. It was embarrassing to think he’d have to sit down with Tony Romo and ask him questions about playing ball.

Travis had met the Dallas QB once when he was still in Austin. Back then, the expectations for him were high and there wasn’t a team in the league that wasn’t looking at their quarterback situation and wondering if they could get their hands on Travis. Romo was friendly enough, but he knew someday Travis was going to be real competition. Travis loved that, the unspoken anxiety he created in opponents. Nowadays, the only opponent he had was a sassy weather girl who wanted her stupid thirty seconds back, and she had proved too tough for him.

“Is there a storm headed our way that Summer didn’t bother to tell us about?” Rachel voice startled him. She ran a finger along the top of Travis’s desk and her blouse was open one button too low to be professional. Rachel, unlike Summer, had no issues with making things personal between the two of them.

Travis shook his head and leaned back in his chair. “She’s getting some fresh air. Ken gave her a bit of bad news.”

“She’s moving to weekends?” Rachel certainly loved gossip. Travis shook his head. “He’s cutting some of her appearances?” Travis shook his head again. “He’s letting her go?”

“No, no. Nothing like that,” Travis assured her. “She has to go to football games with me. That’s all.”

Something flashed in Rachel’s eyes— displeasure, he thought. “Now, why in the world would Ken be sending Summer out to football games with you? That girl doesn’t know a thing about football!”

“He’s got it in his head that we have some sort of chemistry. I’d agree if oil and water somehow reacted to each other. But I think the only thing we do is push each other away.”

Rachel tapped her painted fingernails on his desktop as she glared at Ken’s office door. “You and Summer? Is he saying you two have better chemistry than Brian and me?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Is he saying you and I don’t have chemistry?”

“Your name didn’t really come up,” Travis said, not understanding what she was getting at.

She paled and put a hand over her heart, looking horror-struck. “He’s saying I don’t have chemistry with anyone?”

“I can’t really say what he thinks about your chemistry because like I said, you didn’t come up in the conversation.”

Rachel’s hands were balled into fists at her sides as she stalked over to Ken’s door. “Well, if he thinks he’s going to groom that blond weather freak to take me out, he’s got another think coming.”

“What in the world are you talking about?” Travis shouted. He had no idea what was going on anymore.

Rachel pushed open the door without knocking and slammed it shut behind her. The women at KLVA were all certifiable. Just as that thought crossed his mind, in walked Summer. Those bluebell eyes met his and were brimming with something other than the anger and disgust that had been present a few minutes ago. She headed straight for Ken’s office, knocking politely. Rachel flung open the door, almost knocking Summer over.

She pointed an angry finger at the bewildered weather girl. “Don’t think I’m not on to you, Rain Princess. I know what you’re up to. I know.”

Travis watched as Rachel stomped off, knocking into one of the production assistants and snapping at the woman to get out of her way. Summer looked over at him, trying to make sense of what had happened. All he could do was shrug. He had no idea what was in the water today. Still slightly shaken, she stepped into Ken’s office and closed the door behind her.

Try as he might, Travis couldn’t keep himself from checking constantly for Summer to emerge. Although he couldn’t make out exactly what was being said, Ken’s voice was loud and scolding. When Summer finally opened the door, her expression gave away nothing. No telling what had gone on in there. She slowly walked toward Travis’s desk. Her hair was pulled over one shoulder and he could tell she was nervous.

“I was wrong to take my frustration out on you. I’m sorry,” she said like a child who had been told to apologize but didn’t really mean it. She began to turn away.

“Hold up.” Travis rose to his feet. He was a good foot and a half taller than her, and his size caused her to take a step back. “Obviously Ken told you you’re stuck with me.” She didn’t deny it but arched an impressive eyebrow. “I get that you think I don’t deserve to work here, but what is it about me that makes you so angry, huh? Does your boyfriend watch too much football on Sundays? Maybe your brother’s team got beat by Sweetwater back in the day?”

“I don’t have a brother or a boyfriend. Not that it’s any of your business,” she grumbled.

“I wasn’t trying to pry.”

“Listen, my weather time matters to me. You were given my time.” There was another flash of resentment in her eyes. “I’m also allergic to people who are looking to make fun of me.”

When had he ever mocked her? He had been nothing but nice to her even though she was the only person at the station who refused to jump on the welcome wagon. “I would never make fun of you for being passionate about something you love.”

She regarded him with her head tilted slightly. “Is this your dream job? Is this what you want to do for the rest of your life?”

“I don’t know.”

“Maybe you should figure that out because sharing what I know about the weather is what I want to do with mine.” She retreated to her desk. All hope of her helping him become a more polished sportscaster evaporated. Travis dropped back into his chair. His indecision made him feel ridiculous. He wasn’t a child. He was a man who should know what he wanted out of life. Sadly, he did not.

* * *

TRAVIS WAS HARD-PRESSED to get any tips on improving his on-air performance. Summer Raines managed to be as elusive as...well, summer rain in Texas for the rest of the week. Travis and Summer’s work-related appearances kept them from connecting before newscasts. She was all-business and disappeared as soon as she finished giving her forecast. It was probably for the best. If they didn’t interact, she wouldn’t have the chance to make him feel guilty.

Determined not to fail, Travis spent all his free time memorizing his reports. The less he had to rely on the Teleprompter, the better. His nerves still got the best of him now and again. He fumbled through the end of Friday’s five o’clock report. It wasn’t a complete disaster, but still not good enough. He resolved to hide in his car and practice during the break until it was flawless.

He was surprised to find Rachel waiting for him by his desk when he stopped to grab his keys. “Great job at five, Travis. You’re really going to be a big draw.” She put her hand on his arm and not so subtly squeezed his biceps. She must have liked what she felt because she let out an appreciative hum. “You’ve been an excellent addition to the team.”

Travis took a step back. He was far from excellent. He wasn’t even good yet. Over Rachel’s shoulder, he spotted Summer on her way to the elevators. She looked at him, then Rachel, before averting her eyes and ducking her head. She pushed the button on the wall and stared at the little arrows above the doors. As unpleasant as an elevator ride with the Weather Girl seemed, it was definitely the lesser of two evils at this point.

Smiling graciously, Travis thanked Rachel and attempted to escape. She stepped in his way. “Did you bring dinner or would you like to join me for something to eat?”

“That’s sweet of you, but—” he started.

“Great!” Rachel slipped her arm under his. “I know this lovely place close by. The owners are big fans of mine. We’ll be treated like royalty.” She winked and led him to her desk to get her purse as Summer disappeared into the elevator alone.

Intercepted.

Thanks to Rachel’s love of attention, their dinner took forever. She posed for pictures with other diners and made Travis sign autographs. In the end, they didn’t get back to the station until it was nearly time to go on the air. Travis spent a few minutes hiding in the bathroom, practicing his report. It certainly wasn’t going to be flawless. He’d be lucky if it lived up to his mediocre performance at five.

When he went to drop his notes on his desk before heading into the studio, Brian and Summer were standing nearby. “Come out for a couple drinks, Summer. It won’t kill you,” he heard Brian say.

Brian Sanchez was a decent guy and a likable anchorman. He had one of those faces that made you trust everything he had to say. So far, he hadn’t given Travis any reason to believe that wasn’t the case. Brian was also the unofficial social director at the station. He organized poker games and managed the station’s softball team. He planned office picnics and Christmas parties. Tonight, he’d invited people out for drinks after work. Rachel had mentioned it at dinner—multiple times.

Instead of accepting his offer, Summer cleared her throat. “Did you know that the average snowflake is made up of 180 billion molecules of water?” she asked.

Travis shook his head at her response. Did she have any idea how lucky she was that her nerves didn’t affect her work? He stood up as Brian continued to press. “Do not try to freak me out with your weather facts. You’re coming with us. No backing out.” Spotting Travis, he pulled him into the conversation. “You’re coming, right Travis?”

Travis held up his hands. “Don’t use me as bait. If she hears I’m coming, she won’t show for sure.”

“Your presence has no effect on my decision to go or not,” Summer quickly retorted.

“There you have it!” Brian smacked Travis on the back. “It’s settled. You’re both coming.” He smiled as he took off to catch one of the writers who needed some harassing about going out, as well.

Summer looked less than thrilled at the prospect of drinks with her coworkers. “You don’t have to go,” Travis said, trying to give her an out.

“Maybe I want to go,” she replied stubbornly.

“Then you should go.”

“Maybe I will.”

“Great.”

“Great.”

“I guess I’ll see you there.”

“I guess so.” Summer’s shoulder brushed against his arm as she slipped past him. As refreshing as her disinterest was, Travis was beginning to think it wouldn’t be so bad if she could at least tolerate him.

The ten o’clock newscast didn’t improve his mood. Travis’s segment was passable at best. Ken was going to fire him if he didn’t find a way to loosen up. Even though the Rangers looked as though they were headed for their third championship in the American League, rattling off baseball stats just wasn’t his thing. He sat at his desk, wondering if being a football player was all he was ever going to be good at.

“Who’s ready to celebrate Travis’s first full week?” Rachel said from behind him. Travis turned around to find not only Rachel, but also Brian and a few of the guys from the control room ready to go. The writers and the evening producer were standing by the elevators with two of the women from marketing who’d finished work hours ago.

The large group headed down the street to a small bar with a pool table and good country music. As expected, the conversations centered on Travis, football or a combination of both. He found himself regurgitating the same stories he’d been telling all week long. Most wanted to know about Miami and what it was like to play in certain stadiums. Some wanted to talk about winning the Big 12 Championship game against Nebraska. Others focused on the high-school teams and what Travis thought of them. Rachel was clingy and her perfume made his nose itch.

The only decent conversation he had all night was with Summer, of all people. He overheard her telling one of the production assistants about some hurricane activity in the Caribbean and he joined in, sharing his storm experiences last year in Miami. Unfortunately, other people didn’t find weather as interesting as he and Summer did, and it wasn’t long before the focus shifted to Travis and football. Like it always did. No matter how hard he tried to not let it. As soon as that happened, Summer disappeared.

He found her talking to a young man in a black cowboy hat a little while later. His jeans and flannel shirt were a dead giveaway that he didn’t work for the station. Unfortunately, he had a nephew who played for the local high school, and he wanted to know what Travis thought about the competition in 4A. Summer moved on pretty quickly.

Travis ordered one more drink from the bartender, who was quick to admit he had been a big Travis Lockwood fan. The old man kindly offered up his condolences regarding the shoulder injury. The pity was always hard to swallow. Travis could see it in people’s eyes before it even came out of their mouths. Everyone was sorry his dream hadn’t been fully realized. Sometimes Travis wanted to ask them how they knew what his dreams were. Maybe football had nothing to do with his dreams.

After enduring one more conversation about UT’s prospects for a championship, Travis decided to call it a night. He slipped out, only to find the Weather Girl standing outside the door, digging through her enormous red bag.

“Here I’ve been waiting all evening to find out what the Babylonians had genetically that we don’t and you’re out here trying to sneak away without saying good-night,” he said.

“Good night, Travis.” She pulled her keys out and held them up, victorious.

“You hate me so much you won’t even tell me, huh?”

Summer exhaled loudly. “I don’t hate you. My grandma taught me hating someone is nothing but a big waste of time. Time that could be spent planting a garden or cleaning my room.”

“I think your grandma was trying to get you to do your chores.”

One side of her mouth quirked up as she headed for the parking lot. “Probably. She’s tricky like that.”

Travis followed. “You’re killing me here. Why won’t you tell me?”

“What do you want from me, exactly?”

Travis sighed and decided to be totally honest with her. “Someone to talk to who doesn’t want to rehash every play I ever made on the football field. Someone who won’t sit across from me hoping I’m going to take her home or kiss her good-night.”

“Don’t ever try to kiss me.” The fierceness in her voice left no room for doubt. “That will get you a slap across the face, mister.”

He held his hands up in surrender. “No kissing. Yes, ma’am. But I really do want to know about the Babylonians.”

She clicked the button to unlock her car and pulled the door open. “I think the Babylonians could feel the rain coming like I do. My dad told me once that humans probably evolved so that we didn’t need to be that sensitive to certain things. We had better shelter, tracked seasons formally, developed tools like barometers and Doppler radar. We didn’t need to feel it anymore. Maybe I’m the last of the supersensitive humans.”

When she talked about the weather, she came to life. There was something about the look in her eye when she shared that kind of information. It was a spark that flashed inside her, a light that he wanted to make brighter. “I think I get it. I might need you to be my date to the next Rotary meeting to explain it to them, though.”

Summer flushed. “Did you know that we’ve been experiencing above-average temps for the last forty days in a row?”

“It’s definitely hot around here. Not as hot as that place in Libya you were talking about, but still very hot.”

She stared at him for a minute and he worried he hadn’t gotten the country right. He could have sworn she said Libya.

Climbing into her car, she gave him one more curious look. “Good night, Travis.”

“Good night, Summer.” He watched her drive away. She didn’t hate him. She didn’t like him, either, but maybe she was coming close to tolerating him.

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