9. Ryker
Chapter nine
Ryker
“Then the old man looks out at the tornado that just destroyed his house and yells, ‘Thanks for the chance to redecorate—I hated my ex-wife’s wallpaper!’”
Finley’s pretty laugh floats through the truck, and while I should be happy she’s laughing and smiling after yesterday, I’m not. Because Joseph fucking Jensen is the one making her laugh and not me.
Finley turns her body so she can see Joey in the back seat better. “You’re serious?” she asks.
“I don’t lie, Ms. Buckley.”
Finley turns back around, and I don’t miss how she rolls her eyes at him. She’s done that several times, but the smile he’s put on her face has remained despite his many antics. If anything, it’s only gotten wider.
“He’s telling the truth,” I say.
“You were on that chase?” Finley asks.
I try to hide my shock that she’s finally addressing me directly by keeping my eyes on the road. “That’s how Joey and I met.”
“He speaks facts, Fin-Fin.”
“I never saw you on any of the streamed chases with TT,” she says.
My grip on the steering wheel tightens at the knowledge she’s seen all my live chases. I knew she watched them and that she’s always admired what I do with my team, but I didn’t know she has continued to watch religiously while being my student and our relationship developed—or at least seen enough to know that Joey hasn’t made an appearance in the recent ones.
“I’ve organized a couple of chases with Channel 5 and had Ryker and Hawk tag along.”
“You saw the EF4 in Ironwood together?” she asks, her excitement shooting sparks of electricity under my skin. The sparks I’ve been attempting to tamper.
“Indeed. Daddy didn’t have Thor with him for that chase, so I didn’t get to be inside the tornado. But we got some good data with a sensor we taped to a fence post at the last second before we had to get out of its path. It was fucking wild!”
“I’m not your daddy, Joseph,” I groan.
Joey cackles from the backseat, loud enough that I wince. “You may not be my daddy, but you were that tornado’s daddy. God, you’re such a fucking beast. Seeing you in action, it’s like watching Mozart compose music or some shit. I can’t wait for you to see him, Fin. You’re gonna love it.”
The truck goes quiet after that last sentence, and the tension between Finley and I that had slightly subsided since Joey’s arrival tightens like a bowstring.
I see Joey bounce his gaze between the two of us in the rearview mirror, his brow furrowed in confusion. “Am I missing something?” he asks. “T-Daddy usually loves praise.”
I want to groan. He’s right; I’m not a person who shies away from praise unless it’s unfounded. But that has nothing to do with the awkward silence.
“What did I say?” Joey asks again.
I glance at Finley in my periphery. She looks uncomfortable, staring out the window at the plains of Oklahoma. I guess she’s going to let me decide how to handle this—I should be the one to do it, anyway.
“She’s already been on a chase with me,” I say.
“No shit?” Joey’s hand reaches between the seats and nudges Finley gently. “Then you know what I’m talking about! ”
She exhales a breath and looks back at Joey, being sure not to look at me as she says, “He’s amazing.”
My heart thumps in my chest, and my joints ache from white knuckling the steering wheel. She’s got to be lying after what happened. I almost got us killed, for fuck’s sake—not my greatest moment—and this is exactly the kind of praise that’s not warranted.
“I’m not that great,” I voice, sharing my inner turmoil.
“Horseshit!” Joey retorts so loud it hurts my ears. “Don’t get all humble on us now, Twister Tamer.”
I want to argue with him, but I don’t know if Finley wants to get into what happened last night right now. Joey’s going to find out, anyway, when we meet up with the rest of the team, since I debriefed them late last night about everything—minus the fact I had sex with my student.
I also know my guys, and they won’t let me forget I was nearly sucked up by a tornado and survived. Had I gotten a choice, I would’ve pretended shit was fine then told them today, but since I’d been in communication with Ezra before everything went sideways, he panicked when he couldn’t get ahold of me.
Minutes after Finley and I found her totaled car about half a mile down the road, an emergency vehicle showed up. I cursed myself and took out my phone that miraculously had survived to find it blown up with missed calls and messages in our TT group chat. Ezra had been panicked that he couldn’t reach me—he’d seen the storm turn unhinged and tried to warn me, but it was too late.
“Okayyy…” Joey clicks his tongue against the back of his teeth. “Tell me what’s going on.”
“Nothing,” Finley and I say at the same time, making it obvious that something actually is going on.
Joey looks between us, and before I can say anything, Finley sighs. “We chased last night in Kansas.”
There’s a pause before Joey asks, “That EF2 in Cattle Creek? ”
“Yeah.” Finley pushes a lock of hair behind her ear, hair I can still feel between my fingers from when I kissed her.
“Wait, are you the chasers who got sucked up?”
Finley flushes, and I curse the chasing network for being so goddamn mouthy. I’m glad that it hasn’t gotten out what chasers were caught in the storm. The last thing I need is the internet and every person I know texting me asking what happened, why the great “Twister Tamer” almost got him and his student killed.
“We didn’t get sucked up,” Finley says. “We’re still here, aren’t we?”
“Well, shit! I was wondering why you two looked roughed up. Thought maybe it was from a kinky roll in the hay.”
“Joseph!” I bark. My eyes narrow at him in the rearview mirror, but not before I notice the way Finley’s mouth parts in shock. She recovers quickly and closes it before shooting a glare at both Joey and me.
He chuckles and holds up his hands. “Sorry, sorry. I’m only teasing. Didn’t mean to make you both uncomfortable.”
“Sure you didn’t,” she chides, though I can hear a lightness in her voice. I know it’s there because she doesn’t want Joey to get suspicious. And truthfully, I don’t know if he was serious or just being Joey.
I got to know him fairly well during our chases with Channel 5. He thrives on teasing and being, well, Joey. Normally, I find him funny and a bit charming, but not when his antics have to do with Finley. It makes me think we’re being too obvious, and I take a mental note to pull her aside later and talk with her. If we’re going to get through this chase, we can’t continue on like this, even if I’m the one who made it this way.
Joey chuckles at Finley then pops his head between our seats like a gopher. “Are you going to tell me what it was like?! I mean, hell, you two survived a twister and lived to tell the tale!”
“Windy,” Finley says .
Joey hoots and smacks his leg, and I can’t help but smile. “Windy?!” he presses. “That’s it?”
“Windy and loud.”
Joey bellows harder then smacks me on the shoulder. “See, Fin, this is why Ryker here is a Tornado Daddy. If you had been with anyone else, I’d bet you’d be in Oz by now. His striking good looks made that Wicked Witch go easy on you.”
I narrow my eyes at him through the mirror again. “We got lucky. That’s all.”
“I don’t know; maybe Joey’s right.” I dare a quick glance at Finley, mouth agape at her words. She smirks. “You are very pretty.”
Joey barks and holds up his hand so Finley can smack it in a loud high-five, then he grips my shoulder and jostles me. “This weekend is going to be funnnnn . Don’t you agree, T-Daddy?”
I grip the steering wheel and shake my head. “Only if you stop calling me that.”
“Got it. I’ll keep it to Tornado Daddy then.”
Finley giggles sweetly, and once again, I’m reminded of how nice it sounds. And that Joey is the one making her laugh. Fucking Joseph.
“How do you two know each other?” I ask, both to change the subject and because the green-eyed monster in me needs to know if there was ever something between them. They are very relaxed around one another. It could mean they’re good friends, but it could mean something else, too.
“Sharkie and I were college pals.”
I eye Joey in the rearview again, and he’s smiling like he knows why I’m asking. Or maybe I’m simply paranoid.
“We were lab partners our freshman year and found out we were both into storm chasing,” Finley says.
I shouldn’t be jealous of that, but I am. A part of me wishes I’d known Finley then. That I was in Joey’s shoes instead of my own. It would be a lot easier for us if that were the case. There wouldn’t be our age difference or the little fact that I’m her professor.
“Fin and I were partners in crime for a long time,” Joey says. “Our meteorology professor hated us!”
“I’m scared to ask why.”
Joey practically bounces in his seat and rubs his hands together. “Can I tell him, Fin-Fin?”
I bite my cheek at the ridiculous names he’s using for her. He’s like a kid hyped up on too much sugar, but Finley finds it endearing like I did before now. Once more, jealousy licks at the back of my throat, and I attempt to push it down.
“If you must.” She sighs playfully.
Joey sticks his head between the seats again. “He was giving a lecture and said that mesocyclones always form in the forward flank downdraft region of the supercell, where the strongest updrafts occur.”
“Which is false!” Finley sits forward in her seat, as if the moment is happening again right now. Her gumption reminds me once more of when she came to my office hours that first time and pointed out data I had missed on an old storm report.
My lip twitches with a smile. “And where do they form, Ms. Buckley?”
Joey waits for her answer with lips turned up as Finley shifts in her seat. It’s subtle, something I would’ve missed if I blinked, but I see the way her thighs squeeze together at the way I addressed her. An idiotic yet hopeful part of me wonders if she’s thinking about when I was inside her, and I swallow and bite the inside of my cheek while trying to think of something other than how good her pussy felt squeezing my bare cock.
She clears her throat. “Mesocyclones typically form in the updraft region of the supercell but not specifically in the forward flank downdraft. They usually develop in the mid-levels of the atmosphere, where there’s significant wind shear, and they’re associated with the updraft, not the downdraft. ”
I nod, her science-speak not helping the boner that wants to make an appearance. God, I’m so fucked. “Very good,” I manage to rasp out.
“If you were wondering why I call her Sharkie, that’s why. She’s a killer.”
Finley repositions and leans closer to me, her warm body near enough that I can smell the faint almond scent of her soap and shampoo. Instead of touching me, not that she had a reason to, she pats Joey on the head. He gets all puppy-eyed, clearly enjoying her touch. When she starts to scratch under his chin like a person would a dog, he pants.
She eyes me as she says, “And this is why I call him Sparkie.”
He bats her hand away but barks at her, and I can’t stop the ache in my chest that develops as they both prove their closeness further.
I grip the wheel harder and try to cut off the irrational feelings I have no right to feel. I should be glad that Finley has Joey on this trip—she’s already more comfortable having him here. And I’m sure she’ll be thankful that he’s with us when we meet up with the rest of the team so she has someone familiar to lean on. But part of me wanted me to be that for her, even if I’ve already fucked up that chance. Even though I know it’s better this way.
“Hey, Tornado Daddy,” Joey interrupts my spiral. “Hawk knows you’re driving, so he dropped me a line.” Joey holds up his phone so I can see it in the rearview.
“What is it?”
“The team is moving further west to where they think the action is going to be. The Storm Prediction Center has reiterated that today is gonna be insane.”
“Were those their exact words?” Finley asks.
Joey smacks his lips. “They said it’s going to be unprecedented. Better?”
“Much,” Finley says with satisfaction, her tone only solidifying why Joey calls her “The Shark”.
“Tell him we’ll be there as fast as we can,” I say .
Joey types a message out then pats me on the shoulder a moment later. “He says to step on it, Daddy.”
“His exact words?” I parrot Finley’s words, a move that makes her smile softly.
“No. But I thought Daddy was better than Grandpa.”
Finley expels a belly laugh, and I grumble. “Hold on to your balls, Joseph.”
He smirks at me. “Don’t you mean hat?”
I answer by turning up the music I had on low, and “Nothin’ But a Good Time” by Poison blasts through the speakers before I punch the gas, sending Joey flying back against his seat.
Grandpa, my ass.