No Place Like Home

How had her job come to be at risk, anyway? Despite her obvious reluctance, she’d tackled her assignment with a curiosity as dogged as that of his eight-year-old daughter. Mariah had a way of making him remember when chasing storms had been new to him, too, of making him forget, for a while, what the chase meant to him now.

As a result, he hadn’t captured a tornado on film for his daughter.

The CB crackled with static. Mariah frowned in her sleep. Rafe snatched up the microphone, not about to let it disturb her. She was less trouble when she was asleep. She’d passed out this second time just after he’d radioed Jeremy to tell him they’d made it out of the storm.

An image of Mariah, her hands curled around the wire fence, bolts shooting from the heavy sky, flashed disturbingly to mind. He shook the chilling vision away as a voice came over the airwaves.

“This is Sunshine. Are you out there, Stormy?”

“That you, sweetheart?” As if he didn’t know.

Storms had swept close to Tassel, too, and his daughter would want him home tonight. So he was going home.

Rafe sensed he was being observed. Sure enough, Mariah leveled her disapproving, judgmental gaze upon him—the same look she’d given him at Trixie’s when he’d talked to Sunny….

Sweetheart. She thought he was talking to a woman. Considering the way he couldn’t take his eyes off her at the café, and the kiss he’d stolen, he could see where she might get the wrong idea about him. Kind of like she was getting the wrong idea now.

“Of course it’s me. Are you coming home, Daddy?” Sunny’s aggrieved, now distinctive “kid’s” voice had Mariah straightening in her seat, the judgmental look in her eyes changing to one of surprise. Rafe grimaced. Once she knew he was taking her home, she would either see the advantage of the situation and barrage him—and his family—with questions, or demand again that he drive her back to her car. He should have just wakened her and dropped her off at a roadside motel.

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