The Charming Storm Chaser (Love in a Storm #3)

Chapter 1

Kane

18 years ago

“Will you take me for a ride?” Miranda Mills asks, stroking the torn leather seat of my motorcycle.

Despite my best efforts to play it cool, I can’t help grinning like an idiot. I’ve invested years of blood, sweat, and tears into the bike, taking every odd job I could find, sinking every last penny into buying spare parts from the local junkyard, and checking out every library book on motorcycle repair that I could find. It was all worth it. The bike is perfect .

Okay, perfect may be too strong a word. It looks a bit like Frankenstein’s Monster, pieced together with mismatched parts and inexpert welding, and it’s noisy and leaks oil. But I won’t speak a bad word about it, because it’s given me the two things I wanted most in the world: mobility… and women.

Miranda is the prettiest girl in school—and she wants a ride with me.

I try to rein in my grin and fold my arms across my chest in my best impression of James Dean. “You’re not scared?”

A flirty smile dances on her lips. “Of the bike… or you?”

I shrug. “Take your pick.”

She tucks a strand of her long, blonde hair behind an ear. “I’m not afraid of you.”

“No?” I straddle the bike and look up at her. “Then let’s go.”

She licks her lips. “I don’t know…”

“You asked for a ride,” I point out. “I’m offering one.”

She rubs her palms on the thighs of her tight jeans. “It’s just that my mother will kill me if she finds out.”

I raise an eyebrow. “If she finds out you were on a motorcycle? Or that you were with me?”

“Both,” Miranda admits.

I appreciate her honesty, and it’s nothing I didn’t know already, but I still feel a pang in the middle of my chest. Miranda’s family lives in the wealthiest part of town, as far from my home in Shady Groves Trailer Park—which has zero shade and nary a tree—as a person can get.

“Your mother doesn’t need to know,” I say.

Miranda glances around nervously. “Someone might see…”

“Wear this.” I hand her my helmet, cursing myself for only having one. My mother will kill me if she finds out I didn’t wear it, but I’m willing to take the risk for a chance to spend time with Miranda. “No one will know it’s you.”

A flurry of expressions flit across her face, and I can practically read her thoughts. She wants to rebel against her mother and slum it with a bad boy from the wrong side of the tracks—but she’s never been the sort of girl who breaks the rules.

I expect her to turn tail and run back to her ivory tower, but she surprises me, taking the helmet and sliding it onto her head. Then she swings her leg over the seat, climbs on behind me, and wraps her arms tightly around my waist.

It's the best moment of my entire life.

“Where do you want to go?” I holler over my shoulder.

“Somewhere no one will see us,” she yells back.

So, I take her to the one place where I’m sure we’ll be alone. I hesitate before pulling into the entrance of the mobile home park. I half expect her to panic when she sees where I’ve brought her. With her expensive clothes and shiny hair, she sticks out like a rose in a bouquet of wilted dandelions. But she looks excited as she takes my hand, and I realize that this is an adventure for her. She’s thrilled to be on the wrong side of the tracks with me.

Gripping her hand, I lead her past row after row of dilapidated trailers. When we reach my family’s trailer, with its peeling siding and boarded-up windows, I don’t even glance at it. There’s no way in hell I’m taking her there. It’s too embarrassing. Plus, there’s a chance my younger sister, Lilith, will be home. She and Miranda will both be juniors when school starts again, one grade below me, even though Lil is three years my junior. She just happens to be a genius who skipped right past junior high.

I love my sister, but she hates Miranda and her friends. She calls them the Rich Bitches and says they think she’s so far beneath them that they don’t even see her. I suspect it’s just because Lil is younger—not to mention smarter —than they are. So, they don’t have much in common with her. Besides, Miranda can’t help that she was born to a wealthy family any more than Lil and I can help that we weren’t.

“Are we going to your house?” Miranda asks.

I shake my head. “Nope.”

Once we’re past the trailers, I lead her to the side of a hill and wait for her to notice the door. When she does, she steps forward and runs her hands over the plexiglass. She pushes it and it folds inward.

“It’s like the door to a bus!” she exclaims.

I grin at her. “It’s not like that. It is that.”

She looks at me with wide eyes. “Why?”

Chuckling, I step inside and reach for the flashlight that hangs near the door. I shine the light in the enclosed space so she can see the rows of seats.

“The owner of the park buried a school bus into the side of a hill,” I explain. When she stares at me blankly, I add, “It’s our tornado shelter.”

Her forehead crinkles in confusion. “You don’t have a basement?”

I almost burst out laughing but manage to cover it with a cough. She clearly knows nothing about mobile homes. “No one here has a basement.”

I flick off the flashlight and the bus goes dark except for the tiny window of light visible through the door.

“Ohhhh,” Miranda gasps. “It’s like a dark cave.”

“You said you wanted me to take you somewhere no one would see us,” I point out.

She turns toward me and reaches up to loop her arms around my neck. “That’s right… I did.”

And then her lips brush against my jaw. Hungrily, I tilt my head until our lips meet. She doesn’t resist as I explore her mouth with my tongue, and I say a silent prayer of thanks to all the gods in all the universes. I can’t believe I’m kissing Miranda Mills!

My good fortune continues all summer long. Unable to get enough of each other, Miranda and I have spent countless hours in the storm shelter. The first week, we kept our clothes on—mostly. By the second week, we were naked more often than not. And it’s been glorious.

I hung a sheet across the back of the bus to give us privacy—and time to scramble to put our clothes back on—if anyone happens to intrude on our love nest. No one ever has.

Now, on our final night before school starts, we’ve just finished an epic round of love making. I lick the sweat off her body as we pant for breath. I feel a bubble of emotion welling in my chest and can’t keep the words inside any longer.

“I love you, Miranda.”

“Stop,” she says, swatting me playfully.

“I’m serious. You’re the best.” I pull her into my arms and plant a row of kisses along her collar bone. “I can’t wait to show off my sexy girlfriend at school tomorrow.”

“I’m not your girlfriend.”

I laugh, stroking her naked skin with my fingertips. “Could’ve fooled me.”

Miranda pushes away from me, laughing. It’s not the warm, throaty laugh that I’ve grown to love. This laughter is cold, sending a chill down my spine. “Come on, Kane. This has been fun, but you don’t really think we’re a couple, do you?”

The words are like a punch to the solar plexus. “But—” I struggle to choke out the words. “We’ve spent every day together this summer!”

“Oh, sweet Kane.” Her voice drips with condescension. “We’ve never even been on a real date. We hook up in secret, in a place no one that matters could ever find us. Why would you think I’m your girlfriend?”

“No one that matters?” I repeat. My voice sounds weird to my ears. Hollow.

“My parents, my friends, my parents’ friends, my friends’ parents…” She sighs, shaking her head. “I can’t believe you’re acting like this. We had a fun summer fling, but surely, you knew it’d have to end. Once school starts, things will go back to the way they were. You’re not my boyfriend. You’re not even my friend. We’re too different.”

I don’t matter to her at all…

Lil was right about Miranda. I should have listened to her. She’s always been the smartest person I know.

Miranda releases an exasperated puff of air. “Look, if it makes you feel better, we can still hook up on occasion in secret, okay?”

I lean down to pick up my shirt, quickly yanking it over my head, not caring if it’s inside out or backwards.

“You’re ignoring me now?” Miranda demands. “God, you’re ridiculous.”

As I step into my shorts, I mutter, “You’re nothing but a rich bitch.”

“You’re just trailer trash,” she shoots back at me.

As she gets dressed, her words echo in my mind. You don’t matter… don’t matter… don’t matter… trailer trash… trailer trash… trailer trash.

Later, when I yank down the sheet at the back of the bus, erasing all evidence of our time there, I make two solemn vows.

I’ll make Miranda eat her words. Someday, somehow. I’m going to make something of myself. I won’t stop until I have enough money to swim in it like Scrooge McDuck.

And I will never, ever be foolish enough to fall in love again.