Shaking his head, he blocked out the mental negativity. He’d made the decision, and he would stick with it.
He turned his attention away from the road to the front seat. Rick, Gayle’s chasing partner, was driving. When she introduced them before they left, Mac had noticed the guy was around her age and definitely not bad-looking from a dude’s standpoint. A worn red ball cap covered his dark hair, and he kept it pulled low over his eyes. He wasn’t necessarily muscular, but he also wasn’t lanky like a stereotypical lab rat either, more along the lines of an average, burly guy who did blue-collar work. Women tended to dig that.
More than once Mac caught himself watching Gayle and Rick’s interaction to see if there was, or ever had been, anything more between them than storm chasing. So far, the only thing he’d picked up on was a friendship with the occasional sarcastic, but good-natured, insult.
Gayle sat on the passenger side; her hair was gathered to the side to hang over one shoulder, as she jotted something down on a notepad. All kinds of equipment, ranging from cameras to GPSs to tablets, surrounded her. He felt like he was in some kind of fucking aircraft. A laptop mounted on the center console between the seats pivoted in her direction for easy access. She spent a lot of time on the thing, looking at maps and radars. She’d explained that one of the gizmos on the roof was a satellite internet connection, so she was always up-to-date with the latest weather information. There were a shitload of transmitters and radios, too. Why she needed so many, he had no clue. But every damn one of them was on, emitting a constant low hum of static in the car, a startling screeching voice shattering the silence on occasion—though he was the only one who jumped. Big fearless cage fighter, his ass. Fuck.
He hadn’t contributed to the conversation much over the last four hours. How could he? Gayle kept tossing around a bunch of words he didn’t understand. Things like dry lines, outflows, and wind shear were complete Greek to him.
As they got closer to their destination, they’d started passing more weather nuts on Interstate 35. One right after another. How could he tell? Every damn one of them blazed their intentions on the side of their vehicle with some clever tornado chasing slogan.
“Looks like we’re in for a chaser convergence,” Rick said with a tight laugh.
Gayle scowled as she glanced up from the laptop to peer out the windshield. “Damn, that just means more yahoos to worry about.”
Intrigued by her reaction, but again having no clue what language they were speaking, Mac leaned forward. “What are you two talking about?”
“Chaser convergence. Systems like this bring in weather chasers from all over the country. That’s why we’re seeing so many of them.” She pointed to the passing cars. “The towns are going to be packed with yahoos.”
“What’s that?”
She sent a mocking smile at him. “A yahoo is what you think I am, handsome. A thrill-seeker. What they really are is amateurs without proper equipment. They clog up the roads something awful, don’t know the etiquette of chasing, and put themselves and others in danger. I really wish they’d just stay home.” She returned her attention back to the laptop with a scowl.
Mac asked, “And what you do isn’t dangerous? Why is one danger okay and not the other?”
She slowly turned her head toward him. Irritation was written all over her face and took him slightly aback. Other than when he’d been a complete dick to her, Gayle was always carefree. Guess that didn’t apply to questions about her job. Then again, she’d been tense all morning. Not really herself. Was this how she got while out hunting these monsters? He wasn’t sure how he felt about this new side of her.
“I’m not claiming I’m safe at all times. It is Mother Nature. Everyone in this car can attest that her fury is unpredictable.”
Rick muttered a, “Hell yeah, we can,” which earned him a nod from Gayle.
“However,” she continued. “I take every precaution to stay safe. I don’t take stupid risks just to get a better view. I will back off, even if it means I miss the storm.” Her speech was gaining speed and power as it went, just like one of her storms. “Yahoos don’t. Most of them have watched way too many documentaries on the Discovery Channel, think chasing looks so awesome, and have no regard for the actual danger. All they do is get in the way of those of us doing actual scientific research!” The last was said in a high-pitched burst of frustration.
Okay, then.
Thoroughly slapped down, Mac lifted his hands and sat back. “My mistake.”
Gayle went back to tapping on the damned laptop and jotting stuff in a notebook.