A tense silence enveloped the cab. Another thirty minutes down the road, she looked up, took the pencil out of her mouth, and said, “Rick, take the next exit. This is a perfect location to stop and get something to eat before things pick up this afternoon.”
She looked over her shoulder at Mac. He expected to still see some lingering annoyance, but she sent him a soft, real smile. “Ready to stretch your legs?”
“That’d be nice.” She really hadn’t been kidding about the driving. And he’d forgotten his damned book.
“There won’t be any fine dining over the next few days, handsome. We’re on a fast food and convenience store snacks diet.”
At the exit, Rick veered off the interstate and they rolled into a town so small if Mac blinked he’d have missed it. Rick pulled into a truck stop and jumped out. “What’s everyone want? I’ll grab it.”
“Just make it easy and get three burgers, three fries, and three sodas,” Gayle said as she climbed out the passenger’s seat. The other man trotted off.
Mac also got out and stretched. Muscles thanked him as he lifted his arms over his head.
Gayle went to stand by the bumper, head tilted up to the sky. Though he appreciated the nice view of her legs under her worn, ripped jeans, he had to admit he’d rather see her back in his clothes again. He sidled up next to her. The clouds were thickening, even he could tell that, but they were sporadic, not the dark, angry thunderheads he always associated with a brewing storm. How the hell could she tell a tornado might happen today but not on some other random day?
“What do you think?” he asked as she continued to gaze upward.
She was quiet for a long moment, then met his eyes. “Are you really ready for this?”
The uncharacteristic tension he’d noticed in her since this morning suddenly made sense. She wasn’t concentrating on tracking the forecast. She probably hadn’t even been irritated by his question earlier—okay, maybe some—but usually she was so unflappable he had a hard time seeing past the cheery mood she exuded to any underlying frustration.
Today she couldn’t hide it. Because she was worried about him.
Damn. “You really didn’t want me to come, did you?”
“Not on this one.” She gave a soft laugh, but it seemed hollow. “You were pretty adamant, though.” She sighed. “Mac, I have a job to do. You might not understand what I do, but I don’t just go after these things for the adrenaline or some sick thrill. I’m gathering data, as are a lot of other research-oriented chasers, so we can help people. Things are going to get scary. Intense. In your eyes, I’m going to make some stupid decisions.”
“I can handle myself, Gayle.”
She studied him for a minute, her doubt shining back at him loud and clear. “Can you?”
Then it hit him. She truly regretted bringing him along. And man, that hit the ego pretty hard. But he had to respect her bluntness.
She continued, “I will pay for a rental car right now so you can go back to Cheney if you have any reservation whatsoever about going through with this. Believe me, I won’t judge you, Mac.”
He had been having doubts, but hearing her express worry over him raging out brought out his stubborn streak. “Listen, as much as I’d like to be a fearless Spartan warrior and charge straight into battle, I’m not. I’m also worried about what I’m going to see, how it’s going to make me feel. But that’s my deal. I know what I’m getting into. Your warnings have been heard. You do your job, and I’ll take care of me. Okay?”
She caught her bottom lip between her teeth, drawing his attention down. Swallowing, he averted his gaze off to the field across the road. The last thing he needed was the damn attraction to Gayle to come roaring back just as a fucking tornado roared up. One thing at a damn time, for fuck sake.
A resigned exhale came from her. “Okay. I won’t say anything more, then.”
A few minutes later, Rick joined them and handed each of them a white paper bag. After they got back in the truck and dug into their food, Gayle looked up the latest weather information.
Mac watched her go to multiple tabs on the laptop. Since he was here, he might as well learn a few things. “What exactly are you doing?”
Without looking up, she said, “Each one of these programs gives me the data needed to calculate which area has the highest potential for supercell formation.”
“What kind of data?”
“Wind flow patterns and temperature, which can cause moisture, instability, lift, and wind shear. What I’m doing now is trying to pinpoint the location where the activity will start. The CAPE is higher about forty miles west.”
“Cape?”
“Convective Available Potential Energy which is—” She glanced at him, chuckled, and waved her hand dismissively. “Never mind. That’s getting too technical.”