In high school, they'd tried dating. Logically, since they already spent a lot of their free time together, enjoyed every minute of it, and weren't dating anyone else, it should have worked perfectly.

It hadn't.

Max was a traditional guy in a lot of ways, and his idea of having a girlfriend was taking her to school dances and movies and holding hands at concerts in the park.

Bree had almost died of boredom. And disappointment. She'd wanted Max-poker-playing, joking, dirt-bike-riding Max-and some kissing.

She'd gotten the kissing. Which had been good. But she'd also gotten sweet, romantic, double-dating, let's-cuddle-on-the-couch Max.

And now . . . well, the kissing would probably still be good. h.e.l.l, if practice made perfect, then with the amount of practice she knew Max had gotten since high school, it would probably be phenomenal.

But he was still a traditional, romantic guy.

Bree didn't do traditional, and she wasn't that into romance.

So they were destined to be friends only.

Adventurous friends who shared a need for adrenaline. Which he clearly needed in smaller doses, less often than she did. He didn't date girls who liked to climb and race and get dirty. He dated nice girls who liked musical theater and art galleries and taking trips to places like Napa.

He saved his adrenaline rushes for his time with her.

"Okay, so walk me through the tornado thing again. How's it happen?" she asked him, focusing back on the moment as the raindrops began to fall more steadily.

His eyes lit up a little just at the question, and she smiled to herself. She didn't know if he was so easy to read because she knew him so well or because he just couldn't contain his pa.s.sion for this stuff, but she liked seeing it either way.

"We don't know for sure, but we know the ingredients you have to have. We know you have to have a parent supercell. And then there has to be the right conditions to cause rotation. You start with the warm, humid air on the ground and strong south winds," he said, holding one hand in front of him palm down. "Then there's colder air with a west wind on top." His other hand moved over the first. "The different temperatures and moisture levels between the two cause instability. You add in some strong wind shear to the instability and an updraft to get things rotating, and you have a pretty good chance of a tornado forming." He moved his hands around each other and grinned at her.

Bree wondered for a moment if it was the information she was so intrigued by or if it was listening to Max. He got almost as enthusiastic talking about building stability and reconstruction. He'd even grab rocks and sticks to show her what he was describing, if needed.

"See the cloud formation?" He went back to studying the sky and pointing. "See the band of rain?"

She nodded.

"And then there's the rain-free base." He moved his hand.

She peered into the distance. She shook her head after a few seconds. "Where?"

He leaned in closer. "Up there," he said, adjusting his arm. "And there's the wall cloud."

"Nope, sorry," she said.

He pulled out his phone and took a picture of the scene in front of them, then pulled the photo up and pointed on the screen. "Rain-free base. RFB. Wall cloud. And then there's the Rear Flanking Downdraft, or RFD, and the Forward Flanking Downdraft, FFD."

"Wow, how can you tell all of that?" It looked like a bunch of clouds to her. She did see very slight variations where he was pointing, but without him guiding her, she'd have no idea what she was looking at.

"Practice," he said. "Lots of study. I have hundreds of amazing photos and videos. We can study them together."

Sounded good to her.

This was the most fun she'd had since the last margarita night with Avery and Kit.

She didn't need margaritas with Max.

The thought seemed to hit her out of nowhere. But it was true. And . . . it was a relief. She wasn't quite willing to admit it out loud to anyone else, but she'd been a little concerned by how often a good shot of tequila had been sounding lately. She'd always been a social drinker. She loved beer, loved most liquors, and could definitely handle her share. But it seemed lately that she wanted it more and more.

It was the rush it gave her. She knew that. And the fact that she was having trouble feeling that rush in other ways was something she should probably a.n.a.lyze.

Later.

Maybe.

"Great."

"So this is where the rotation is starting," he said, pointing to the photo and then up at the cloud formation again. "That will very likely produce a funnel cloud. We'll follow and see if it touches down."

Bree felt a little thrill go through her chest. Ah. She loved that feeling.

"Okay, let's go." Bree jumped off the tailgate and headed for the pa.s.senger side of the truck.

Just as she touched the truck door handle, the cloud overhead decided to dump some extra water. She jerked the door open and clambered inside, but not before she got soaked.

"A few seconds more warning would have been nice," she said with a grin, shaking water from her arms and running a hand over her face.

Max looked over. Then c.o.c.ked an eyebrow at her. "If you're going to be storm chasing, you might want to invest in some tank tops in other colors."

She looked down. At her wet, white tank top. Right. She looked up at him. "Good thing it's just you and me, I guess."

He didn't smile as expected, but he turned his eyes back to the road. "Yep, good thing."

He pulled out of the small drive and headed west, into the storm.

"So now we're looking for a funnel cloud?" she asked, strapping on her seat belt.

"We're going to be looking for striations and a wall cloud," he told her. "The striations can indicate rotation. The wall cloud is usually behind the band of precipitation and sticks around fifteen minutes or so before a tornado. It can have some rotation to it, so let's check this one out."

Bree watched him as he drove, looking up out of the windshield and in the rearview mirror almost constantly.

"You already know, don't you?" she asked.

"What?" He glanced over.

"That it's going to turn into one." She didn't have to say tornado for him to know what she was talking about.

He didn't answer immediately but then gave her a simple, "Yeah."

"How?" She believed him, but she was curious. "You normally have your radar up and stuff, right?"

"I do," he said with a nod. "But I usually know anyway."

"How?"

He shrugged. "Not exactly sure. Just a feeling I get. In my gut. In my spine. I just . . . know."

"Wow." She focused back on the road. She couldn't remember a time that she hadn't had a good time with Max. Other than the Sweetheart Dance in high school, and the double date with Dillon and Abigail, and the time they'd tried to watch Pride and Prejudice together on the couch.

"Wow, what?" he asked.

"That's amazing."

He paused and then asked, "You believe me?"

She looked at him. "Why wouldn't I believe you?"

"It just . . . sounds kind of weird. That I can predict the weather. Doesn't it?"

"Maybe." She thought about that. "I guess I just know you too well to doubt you."

"What's that mean?"

"I don't think you've ever told me anything that wasn't true," she said. And she meant it. She couldn't think of a single time. Maybe when he said he was fine after a long hike or after he'd landed in the field after skydiving that first time. She knew his knee bothered him, and had ever since he'd injured it during the cleanup efforts in Louisiana after Hurricane Katrina hit, but they never talked about it. It was the one topic that seemed off-limits. And to Max, "fine" was being able to move himself from one point to another without a.s.sistance. So technically, he'd been fine.

Max didn't respond to that, and they both focused back on the clouds. The rain was coming harder as they drove closer, but Bree knew that behind the rain was the real threat.

"Okay . . . there." Max turned onto old Highway 36. It was a two-lane paved road with paved shoulders, unlike the gravel they'd been on before. But the new Highway 36 had been built ten years ago, leaving this one far less traveled.

"Is that the wall cloud?" she asked, peering out her window.

"Yeah. And see the beaver's tail?" he asked, referring to the tail of the cloud behind the area of precipitation. He slowed down so they could both watch.

"Yep."

"We'll head closer and see if we can spot anything coming down."

She nodded.

Bree could feel her heart pounding and her blood pumping through her veins. She felt like her body was humming and wasn't sure she was completely touching her seat. She could feel it. Maybe because Max had said it, and she believed anything Max told her, but she really thought she could feel the storm coming, the energy swirling around in those clouds, gathering power.

She hated tornadoes. Cerebrally. She knew they were destructive and unpredictable. But she loved this building antic.i.p.ation. It was like riding up the incline on the roller coaster, knowing eventually you were going to tip over the top and go careening down the other side.

The tornado would be the careening part.

And honestly, she loved that part, too.

Within reason, of course.

"Hey." She looked around. She didn't drive out this way very often. "We're, what, about seven miles out of town?"

Max nodded. "That's probably about right."

"And we're west."

"Yep."

She looked over at him. "That means that if it does turn into a tornado, it's heading for Chance."

He gave her a grim look. "Right."

"Oh."

Why hadn't that occurred to her before? Holy c.r.a.p. She hadn't really put it all together. With the excitement of the chase and the interest in what she was learning, she'd distanced the storm from the town, she supposed.

"Hey," Max said.

She looked at him again.

"That's why we're out here. That's why we do this."

She knew that. Of course. Storm spotters were vital to public safety. She, and everyone who had ever lived through a tornado, was grateful for the warnings and information that allowed them to get to shelter and be safe.

But . . .

"You really think this is going to turn into a twister?" she asked.

Instead of answering, Max said, "What do you feel?"

Dammit. She felt it. The power, the energy, churning and swirling up there. She nodded. "Yeah. I feel it."

Max just nodded.

"Dammit."

"It will-Sonofab.i.t.c.h." Max cranked the wheel and pulled over to an abrupt stop on the shoulder of the road.

She looked from him to the cloud. And saw what had caused his reaction a millisecond before he said simply, "Funnel."

He threw his door open and held up his phone. She knew he had better equipment, but this would do. He started filming as Bree fumbled for her phone. She needed to call Avery and Chief Mitch.e.l.l, Bree's boss.

Bree dialed Avery's number, but it rang four times before going to voice mail.

"Dammit." She dialed the chief next and put him on speakerphone. He answered on the third ring. "Chief, I'm out with Max."

"There's a funnel forming five miles southwest. No touchdown yet, but we need to get people moving," Max reported.

"Got it. Thanks," Wes Mitch.e.l.l said. "Where are you?"

"Seven miles out. West of town. We have a view of the storm from here, but we're going to get closer, try to see what's coming."

"Radar is showing some rotation," Wes said. "And we've got hail."