The Weather Girl by Amy Vastine Page A

“Nice to meet you ladies.”
    The look on Summer’s face said she was about to spout off every high temperature ever recorded. Her discomfort made Travis feel worse. It was obvious to him that she’d only offered because Conner was asking, not because she was interested in Travis. Shannon, on the other hand, was one of the women still enamored with who he had been. “I’m sure I can grab a ride with the guys in the van,” he suggested.
    “Had I known driving you home was going to be such an issue—” Summer began.
    “I’ll go with you,” he jumped in. At this point, not accepting her offer would be more offensive than anything else he could do. “Thank you.”
    When the signing finally came to an end, Travis and Summer wished Shannon and the crew a good evening. Clouds had moved in and the wind picked up, sending discarded fliers and garbage tumbling across the field. The energy in the air felt different, heavier, and Travis’s skin tingled. He smiled at his observation. The Weather Girl was rubbing off on him.
    She was too busy to notice.
    Summer held her closed red umbrella in one hand and dug through her big bag of tricks with the other.
    “So you know when it’s going to rain and you like to throw yourself out of hot-air balloons. What else do you do?”
    “Wouldn’t you like to know?” she said, her mouth twisting in frustration as her keys continued to elude her. She shook the bag in an attempt to locate them by their jingle.
    “I really would like to know,” he said, perhaps too curious for his own good. Summer shook her head and continued hunting for the elusive car keys. “Have you always been like this?”
    “Like what? Completely incapable of finding my stupid keys?”
    He liked the way she could be so self-deprecating. Brooke had never wanted to admit she was anything but flawless. “Fearless,” he said, taking the umbrella from her so she could use both hands to rummage through her bag. He wished he could get that feeling back. The one that made him believe he could do anything he set his mind to. Lately, that other f-word—failure—was haunting him.
    Summer laughed. “If you bungee-jump and have no fear, there’s something wrong with you. It’s that little bit of fear that makes it fun.” She found the keys and unlocked her car.
    Travis opened his door and moved the passenger seat back to accommodate his long legs. “That’s probably true. Being afraid is what makes overcoming something that much more rewarding, right?”
    “Exactly.” She started up the car and switched on the wipers. Travis was about to question that decision when big, fat raindrops began hitting the windshield. She was freakishly good at her job.
    “So maybe the real question is, what else are you afraid of, Weather Girl?”
    Summer squeezed her lips together before stealing a glance in his direction. “I’m afraid you broke Shannon’s heart by not choosing her to drive you home. I’ve never seen someone so disappointed.”
    “Nice deflection.” That probably wasn’t the first thing that had popped into her head, but he was sure it was all he was going to get. “Shannon’s a good kid.”
    “Good kid, huh? She’s not that much younger than you are.”
    “Maybe. She just reminds me of the girls I knew in college.”
    Summer’s eyes were glued to the road. “Did you know Texas averages a hundred and twenty-six tornadoes a year?”
    Travis rubbed his neck and looked out his window at the suddenly ominous gray sky. He wondered if she knew something she wasn’t telling him. “Wow, is that the most?”
    “Yeah, we have more than twice as many as Oklahoma.” She sped up the wipers and tightened her grip on the steering wheel. “But we’re also the second biggest state, so the data is a little skewed.”
    “I’ve lived in Texas all my life and never seen one.”
    “Well, your life is far from over.”
    “This is true. Something to look forward to, I guess.” He paused for a beat. Looking