Chapter 3
THREE
DAWSON
I arrived at the coffee shop fifteen minutes early, which was ridiculous. This was a work meeting. A professional discussion about storm coverage and viewer messaging. There was no reason for my wolf to be pacing beneath my skin as if we were about to do something significant.
The café was nearly empty at this hour. There were just a few bleary-eyed early risers and a barista who looked like he'd rather be anywhere else. I ordered a black coffee and claimed a table in the back corner, positioning myself so I could see the door.
My phone showed three new model runs from overnight. The storm had intensified faster than predicted with winds now sustained at ninety miles per hour. The cone of uncertainty still covered a wide area, but two of the major models had shifted closer to our region.
I was studying the latest satellite imagery when Parker walked through the door.
My wolf's immediate reaction was embarrassing. He sat up and wanted to take over so he could scent Parker better but I tamped down his demand.
Every instinct I had urged me to pay attention and notice the way the morning light caught in his dark hair and the slight flush on his cheeks from the cool air outside.
He wasn't wearing his usual on-air clothes.
Instead he had on jeans that hugged his hips and a sweater.
The casual look emphasized the breadth of his shoulders.
As I studied the scruff on his chin, I'd never realized he must shave at the studio and I imagined running my fingers over the bristles.
But that couldn't happen.
He spotted me and smiled, and my heart did flip flops.
"Morning." He slid into the chair across from me, bringing with him that citrus-sweet scent that had been haunting me for weeks. Was it aftershave or just his natural scent? "Thanks for meeting so early."
"The storm's not waiting for convenient hours." I turned my phone so he could see the latest imagery. "It strengthened overnight. It's Category two now, possibly Category three by this afternoon."
His expression changed immediately to that focused seriousness I was beginning to recognize. "Its track?"
"Still uncertain, but trending closer to us." I pulled up the cone of uncertainty. "We need to start preparing viewers for the possibility of significant impacts. Not enough to cause panic, but enough that they take it seriously."
"Agreed." He studied the screen, and I picked up on details I shouldn't.
His eyes narrowed when he concentrated and there was a small crease that appeared between his brows.
I noted how his jaw tightened when he was thinking hard.
He also didn't have that awful studio makeup plastered over his skin.
This was the first opportunity to see him fresh-faced and he was… Damn I'd been about to use the word gorgeous. He was very attractive. "What's our timeline for decision-making? When do we start recommending evacuations?"
"That's not my call. Emergency management will issue orders based on the official forecast track.
" I switched to the spaghetti models, showing the various potential paths.
"But if this trend continues, we could be looking at Thursday morning for evacuations in low-lying areas. Friday morning for everyone else."
The barista appeared at our table. "What can I get you?"
"A large latte, extra shot, please." Parker's warm smile could have charmed the pants off the guy. "And whatever he's having."
"I already ordered."
"That was twenty minutes ago. The coffee's cold by now." He pointed to my cup. I'd been too focused on the weather models to notice.
"A large black coffee, please."
After the barista left, Parker pulled out his phone and started taking notes. "So we start gentle messaging today. 'Monitor the forecast, make sure you have supplies.' Tomorrow we escalate to 'Finalize your preparations, know your evacuation routes.' By Wednesday we're in full coverage mode."
"That's... ummm… perfect." I was pleased that he'd absorbed my approach so quickly. "You've done this before?"
"I covered two hurricanes at my last station. They were smaller markets, but the principles are the same." He looked up from his phone. "Keep people informed without terrifying them. Give them actionable steps. Make sure they know we're watching out for them."
My wolf preened at the idea of Parker and I watching out for people together, which was absurd. We were colleagues doing our jobs, though my beast kept telling me we were more than that and Parker's scent was making it increasingly difficult to remember we were coworkers.
"I'll need graphics updated every three hours once we hit Wednesday." I pulled up my checklist. "Real-time radar, storm surge predictions, and rainfall totals. The full package."
"Done. I already talked to Isla about clearing the schedule." Parker's coffee arrived, and he wrapped both hands around the cup. "We'll go live every hour with updates once the storm is within twelve hours. I want you on camera with me for all of them."
"Are you sure?"
"It's necessary." His tone was gentle but firm. "People trust you, Dawson. When you tell them something is serious, they believe it. I need you there to give the information weight."
I wanted to argue, but the way he was looking at me made the words stick in my throat. It was as if he genuinely valued my expertise and he saw me as more than just the grumpy meteorologist who complicated his segments.
"Fine. But I'm not doing any of that cheerful banter while we're in emergency coverage."
"I wouldn't ask you to." He smiled, and it was warmer and more intimate than his on-air expression. "I know the difference between regular programming and crisis coverage. I'm not going to make jokes while people are evacuating their homes."
Of course he wasn't. I kept forgetting that underneath all that sunshine, Parker Fleetwood was competent. He was good at his job in ways that had nothing to do with his charisma.
"The overnight models shifted the track about forty miles east." I pulled up the comparison. "If that trend continues, we might dodge the worst of it. But we can't count on that."
"Better to over-prepare."
"Exactly."
We fell into a comfortable rhythm, going over scenarios and timing and messaging strategies.
Parker asked intelligent questions. He pushed back when he thought I was being too technical and offered suggestions that made sense.
At some point, I stopped thinking of him as the annoyingly cheerful host who cut off my forecasts and started seeing him as what he actually was.
A partner.
My wolf liked that term far too much and I told him to stop being warm and gooey about our coworker.
"What made you get into meteorology?" Parker's question caught me off guard. We'd moved past the storm coverage discussion, and were just talking. "You're so passionate about it."
"I like systems that make sense." I wrapped my hands around my fresh coffee cup. "Weather follows patterns and rules. If you understand the science, you can predict outcomes. It's reliable."
"Unlike people?"
The observation was too accurate. "People are complicated."
"So is weather." His smile was teasing. "All those models you showed me have different predictions. The atmosphere doesn't always follow the rules."
"It follows physical laws—air pressure, temperature gradients, moisture content—all of it predictable. The math doesn't lie."
"But the interpretation can be subjective." He leaned forward. "You said yourself we won't know the exact track until it's almost here. Sometimes you have to make decisions with incomplete information."
He'd made a frustrating, insightful point that had me wonder what else I'd misjudged about Parker Fleetwood.
"What about you?" I asked, then immediately regretted it. This was supposed to be a work meeting, not a personal conversation. "Why television?"
But Parker didn't seem to mind the question.
"I like helping people. Sounds cheesy, I know.
But there's something satisfying about taking complex information and making it accessible.
I enjoy being the person viewers trust to start their day.
" He paused and his expression changed. "Plus, it gave me an excuse to leave my last city and make a fresh start. "
There was a story there as his smile didn't reach his eyes.
We'd finished our coffee, but neither of us had made a move to leave. The café was still nearly empty, our corner feeling separate from the rest of the world. Parker had one hand wrapped around his empty mug, and I found myself watching the way his fingers curved against the ceramic.
"You have good hands." I immediately wanted to kick myself. What kind of comment was that?
But Parker looked down at his hands, then back up at me and a smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. "Good hands?"
"For… ummm… gesturing on camera." I was making this worse. "You use them when you talk. It's expressive."
"You've been watching my hands?" There was a teasing note in his voice.
"I notice things." I sounded a little surly and that wasn't my intention.
"What else do you notice?" he asked, almost in a whisper.
"Everything."
We were both quiet for a moment, and I became aware of how close we were sitting. We were close enough that if I shifted slightly, our knees would touch under the table and I noted the lighter flecks in his brown eyes. I could even count the individual lashes framing them.
Parker's gaze dropped to my lips, just for a second, before flicking back up.
"Dawson."
His phone buzzed and the moment was gone.
"That's Isla. We should probably head to the station. I need to be in hair and makeup by seven-thirty."
I loathed having my hair manhandled by a stylist and them smoothing heavy foundation over my skin. I'd long ago told them to keep it to a minimum and my knee bounced for the long minutes I sat in that chair.
"Right." I gathered my phone and notes, trying to ignore the disappointment that settled over me. That was silly because I'd been dreading this meeting, and now I was disappointed it was ending. My beast urged me to keep Parker talking but I ignored him and that annoyed him.
My wolf was becoming a problem.
We walked to the station together. The early morning air was so cool that I could see Parker's breath misting.
He was close enough that his scent wrapped around me, and I almost turned and walked away in case he picked up on my arousal.
My wolf was badgering me to get closer but that would have been invading Parker's personal space.
"Thanks for meeting early." Parker paused at the station entrance. "And for being willing to work together on the coverage. I know I'm not always your favorite person."
"You're not… no you're… it's… fine." The words tumbled out, tripping over my tongue."You're good at your job. Even if you do translate everything I say into sound bites."
His infectious laugh wrapped around my heart. "I'll take that as a compliment."
"It was meant as one."
His eyes searched my face as if he was trying to figure out a puzzle. For a moment, we stood there in the cool morning air and we were close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from his skin.
But his phone buzzed again.
"That's Isla. I need to go." But he didn't move immediately. "Same time tomorrow? We should keep coordinating while the storm develops."
"Yeah, okay."
He disappeared into the station and I stood where I was for another thirty seconds, breathing in the lingering trace of his scent.
This was becoming a problem because now I was paying attention to what my wolf has been pestering me about.
I'd been ignoring it for weeks. Parker Fleetwood smelled like home.
He was everything my instincts had been searching for since I'd become an adult.
Parker was my mate.
I forced myself to walk into the station, to focus on the weather models and the approaching storm. I had work to do. This was not the time to acknowledge that the cheerful morning show host was our fated mate. Even if every instinct I had was telling me it was true.
The storm was coming. And it had nothing to do with the hurricane in the Gulf.