Chapter Fourteen #2
There’s a metaphor somewhere in there. Wes preferring the stark, blinding beauty of cloud-to-ground lightning versus my preference for the delicate webbing that races through the clouds like a million electrified fingers.
Almost as if on command, lightning forks above our heads.
It’s probably out of my frame, but I tip my head back to catch a glimpse.
Rain spatters across my cheeks and forehead, a light sprinkle with the occasional fat drop, the heat of the day warring with the cool rain.
If someone could capture the scent of hot asphalt with fresh rain in a candle, I’d buy a lifetime supply.
“You know, of all the dangerous stuff out here, none of us really think twice about lightning,” Wes says, amusement lacing every word.
“Those are taller than us,” I say with a laugh, pointing at a nearby telephone pole.
But he has a point. I may not take it as far as he does, but aren’t we all a little reckless out here, chasing lightning and some of the most destructive storms on the planet? A sane person would run in the other direction.
Maybe we’re all just different brands of crazy. Maybe Wes and I aren’t so different after all.
“What’s your lightning unicorn shot?”
“Tornado with a rainbow and lightning.” My eyes slide toward him, and I’m thrown by how relaxed he seems. Wes is someone I associate with a nearly frantic sort of energy, an inability to be still. As if he’s running from something instead of toward it at all times.
But now, in this field in the middle of nowhere, alone with me, lightning crackling overhead, he’s calm. His posture is easy, his shoulders relaxed, and the faint trace of a smile tugs at his lips.
“What’s yours? Your lightning unicorn?” I ask, suddenly curious.
“Lightning with the Milky Way.” The sun hasn’t set, but I still instinctively glance up as Wes adds, “I’ve gotten close a few times. I did some work a few years ago for one of the desert outfitters, but the monsoon storms weren’t in the right place to make it work.”
A trickle of guilt for all my implying that he’s just a spoiled trust fund kid returns at the reminder of the various jobs I’ve known nothing about. “I’d love to see some of the photos if you have any with you. I never have time for monsoon.”
Pleasure softens Wes’s expression. “Yeah?”
I nod, pressing back into him as his arms tighten around me. “I love your work. I wish I had more time to travel. See glaciers and the northern lights and penguins.”
He hums, low and intimate against my skin. “Lightning with the northern lights would be the ultimate goal, but that’s even harder to pull off.”
“I guess they’re called unicorn shots for a reason.” I sigh wistfully, a montage of all the hard-to-get shots I’ve dreamed of flickering by. “The tornado and rainbow was your first time in Nature Shots, right?”
I remember seeing the announcement and being jealous as hell of not only the shot Wes got—in June, when I was up to my eyeballs in lace and peonies instead of dust and rain—but that he landed a spot with the magazine at twenty-five.
“Yeah. I sent it in figuring why not. I never thought they’d actually want to license it.” He shrugs and adds, “Maybe this is the year you get your unicorn.”
I shake my head with a rueful laugh. “I’ve been trying for that shot for ages. Trust me, I’d love to finally get it this year so I could submit it for the cover, but that would be a miracle. Not to mention everyone else out here would probably get a similar shot if it all lined up.”
“There’s a ton of people out today, but we’re alone here. If a tornado and rainbow were to appear, we would be the only ones who could get a shot with this foreground.”
“True.” I shrug and turn in his arms, trusting the camera to do its thing while the sky continues to put on a show.
I study Wes’s expression in the flickering light.
“I want to win,” I tell him, holding eye contact.
“For myself. All joking aside, I just want you to know that. It’s not really about beating you.
A nice perk,” I add with an affectionate squeeze of his shoulder.
“But it’s not the main reason. The other chasers, they respect you. I want that.”
“They respect you.”
“You think this morning was a show of respect?” His expression darkens, but Wes doesn’t argue.
“Outside of our small circle, no one comes up to me and asks for tips. No one asks my opinion on which cells to go after. And you heard what they said this morning. They think that I’m with you as some kind of maneuver for the contest.”
“They have no idea what they’re talking about.”
“You’re missing the point.” I glance back at our cameras and the storm stretched out across the sky.
“I like weddings. Mostly. But I’m tired of the client drama.
I want to do more landscape work, and the only way that’s happening for me at this point is if I can make a splash somewhere. Nature Shots can give me that.”
“So let’s make it happen,” Wes says, like it’s that simple. “That’s our goal the rest of the season. We’ll find you the shot.”
I blink, still not entirely used to how generous he is when it comes to supporting me and my goals.
Maybe I should be by now, but it’s a hard adjustment after years of putting everyone else first. Years where every time someone let me down, my heart just added another brick to the walls steadily built up by disappointment after disappointment.
Wes is starting to make me want to build something else entirely.
“We’ve got almost a month left,” I say quietly. “At some point we’ll get close enough to my place to grab your car. You need to get your shots too.”
“If you want your space, I get it, but we could finish out the season together. Swap to my car and put the miles on my tires instead of yours whenever we end up out that way.” He curls his fingers around my hip and pulls me closer. “Ask the question you really want to ask, Sloane.”
“We might be pretty far from Colorado when it’s time for me to head home,” I hedge. “I wouldn’t want you to have to give up chase time to drive me back.”
“That’s not a question.” Wes nuzzles into my hair, his breath warm on my neck. “Ask the real question.”
“Practically speaking, it would save a bunch of money to keep chasing together,” I say tentatively, my heart beginning to hammer.
Logic insists that he’s just as into what’s happening between us as I am, but I’ve never been with someone who can draw honesty—and vulnerability—out of me the way that Wes does.
“It would.” He laughs quietly, and I instantly regret my words. At least until he says in a low, affection-laced drawl, “Still not a question, darlin’.”
I huff and squeeze my eyes shut. “Doyouwanttokeepchasingtogetherfortherestofmyseason?”
Wes curls his fingers around my jaw and tips my chin up, lightning illuminating the gray-blue of his eyes.
“I want you to look at me when I say this,” he says, so soft it’s almost lost on the wind.
He waits, patient as ever, until I do as he asks.
Only then does his other hand join the first, cupping my cheeks between them.
“Have you figured out yet why I kissed you at that gas station?”
The intensity of his unguarded emotions is too much. Focusing on some distant point over his shoulder, I mumble, “Seemed like a good idea at the time?”
“Eyes on me, Sloane.” His thumbs gently guide me until our stares lock again.
“I kissed you that day because after all these years, once I finally had you in my arms and thought you’d let me, I couldn’t stop myself.
” He swallows, his throat bobbing. “That kiss wasn’t a favor. That kiss was a goddamn reckoning.”
I couldn’t take my eyes off him now, even if I wanted to. Not with all the emotion he isn’t trying to hide pouring out. The want, the need, but also the vulnerability of the confession. “Years?” I repeat, dumbfounded.
Each flash of lightning illuminates his features more starkly, capturing just how serious Wes is when he says, “You’re gorgeous.” He leans in to press a soft kiss to my cheek. “Talented.” He kisses the other cheek. “With a wicked tongue and a sharp sense of humor that I look forward to all year.”
Wes pulls back, that intense look still on his face and an unspoken I want more floating between us. “Your brother got in touch the other day. Everything’s fixed.”
“Oh.” I swallow my confusion and force my tone to stay light. “You never said anything.”
“I didn’t. And maybe that was wrong of me, but…” He brushes a stray strand of hair off my forehead. “I don’t want this to end. I want to finish the season with you.”
Maybe I should be annoyed that Wes didn’t tell me, but the truth is that we’ve been chasing together for nearly three weeks now. Even after telling my brother to take his time, some part of me knew that the repairs must be done. I could have texted Eric to ask him myself at any point.
It’s only now that I can admit why I didn’t—I didn’t want to go back to chasing alone either. Even if getting closer to Wes terrifies me. Even if I don’t entirely know what any of this means, what will happen in another three weeks when my season ends.
But that’s a problem for another time.
“Okay.” I trace a path down Wes’s broad shoulders and toned biceps to the nip of his waist and the curve of his ass, pressing closer as I push onto my toes. My heart pounds, a staccato rhythm to match the lightning above. “Let’s finish my season together.”
I tug his mouth down to mine, heedless of the raindrops peppering our skin. Thunder rumbles all around us, flashes flickering against my closed eyelids, but I’m so absorbed in kissing Wes that it’s a distant, faraway sound.
At least until our phones start howling.
“Oh shit.” I stare down at the emergency message with a twist of unease. “Baseball hail. I didn’t think this storm was that strong.”
“It’s not,” Wes says, his voice grim. “But the one coming up behind it is. Time to go.”