Weather Or Knot, page 1
Weather or Knot
A NOVELLA
TRACY BROGAN
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be sold, copied, distributed, reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, mechanical or digital, including photocopying and recording or by any information storage and retrieval system without the prior written permission of both the publisher, Oliver Heber Books and the author, Tracy Brogan, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
PUBLISHER’S NOTE: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
COPYRIGHT 2024 © Tracy Brogan
Published by Oliver-Heber Books
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Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Epilogue
Preview: Art of the Chase
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Acknowledgments
Also by Tracy Brogan
About the Author
Praise for Tracy Brogan
“Brogan brings her signature wit and whimsy to this delightful trio of historical stories.”
— USA TODAY BESTSELLING AUTHOR ELIZABETH ESSEX
“Whether writing contemporary rom-com or light-hearted, gilded age historicals, Brogan always delivers!”
— USA TODAY BESTSELLING AUTHOR ALYSSA ALEXANDER
“Brogan’s voice is distinct and irresistible, offering both laugh-out-loud scenarios and moments of poignancy. Secondary characters enhance the hilarity and add a sense of community sure to tug at the heartstrings.”
— PUBLISHERS WEEKLY
“Brogan creates a charming small town where even the scandals and secrets are relatively wholesome. Events sweep readers along, making them long for the idealized community Brogan portrays.”
— PUBLISHERS WEEKLY
“Brogan knows how to capture her readers attention.”
— RT BOOK REVIEWS
“Heart, humor, and characters you'll love. Tracy Brogan is the next great voice in contemporary romance.”
— NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLING AUTHOR KRISTEN HIGGINS
“Brogan shows a real knack for creating believable yet quirky characters, providing surprising emotional twists along the way.”
— BOOKLIST
“With trademark humor and lovely, poignant touches, Brogan's books are charming, witty, and fun.”
— USA TODAY BESTSELLING AUTHOR KIMBERLY KINCAID
“Brogan successfully blends a sassy heroine and humor with deep emotional issues and a traditional romance. The well-developed characters and sweet story with just a touch of heat will please readers looking for a creative take on romance.”
— PUBLISHERS WEEKLY
“HIGHLAND SURRENDER features plenty of action, romance, and sex with well-drawn individuals – a strong yet young heroine and a delectable hero who don't act out of character. The story imparts a nice feeling of “you are there” with a well presented look at the turbulent life of the 16th century Scotland.”
— RT BOOK REVIEWS
“Treachery and political intrigue provide a well-textured backdrop for a poignant romance in which a young girl, well out of her depth, struggles to reconcile what she thinks she knows with what her heart tells her. HIGHLAND SURRENDER is a classic sweep-me-away tale of romance!”
— NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLING AUTHOR CONNIE BROCKWAY
Chapter 1
There are only a handful of legitimate reasons to be awake at four thirty in the morning, and even fewer reasons to be up, dressed, and standing outside in a torrential rainstorm. At the moment, Allison Winters was beginning to wonder if her reasons were valid enough to warrant her current level of saturation. Surely there were easier, drier, later-in-the-day ways to make a living, but everyone in her line of work had to pay their dues, so on this wet, blustery morning in May, she was paying hers.
As the weekend meteorologist for Channel 7 News in Glenville, Michigan, that often meant standing on the rooftop of the station during what most logical people would refer to as the middle of the night. And more often than not, it meant getting up close and personal with moody midwestern weather. Most days she didn’t mind the unpredictable outdoors, and when inside the station, she enjoyed the comradery shared among her colleagues during those quiet hours when the night owls and the early birds collided.
But lately the zero-dark-thirty shifts had started taking a toll. She was tired of eating her lunch at the crack of dawn. Tired of having to skip nights out with friends because she was either working a double shift and covering the evening weather, or because her bedtime came at an hour when most toddlers were still up and ready to party. And she was tired of being the littlest fish in a modest-sized pond. Her two-year contract was up soon, and she was considering a change. Or at the very least, she was considering the possibility of considering a change.
“Cue Allison. In five, four, three, two…”
She swiped rain from her face as instructions from Frank, the segment coordinator (who was nice and dry inside the control room), sounded through her earpiece. She nodded at the cameraman, some new kid whose name escaped her, and swiped again before the shot went live. Not that the swipe did any good. It was too windy to hold an umbrella and she’d stood under waterfalls that produced less moisture than the rain clouds above her head, but so be it. There were people out there who’d be getting up soon for work, and she owed it to her audience, miniscule though it may be at the present hour, to let them know what to expect from the skies today.
“It’s a big, sloppy, wet one out today, folks!” she said, plastering on a quasi-cheerful smile. “Get out those umbrellas and raincoats because this extreme precipitation is expected to continue on throughout the day.” She delivered the rest of the forecast trying hard not to blink against the pelting droplets, then tossed the segment back to the weekend anchor (who was also warm and dry inside the studio—not that she was bitter).
“Annnnd, Allison, you’re clear,” Frank announced through the earpiece. “When you get inside, Jessica wants to see you right away.”
Allison took one step then halted, the foul weather suddenly second on her mind. “Jessica? As in Jessica Jackson, our news director?”
“Yup.”
“Why is she at the station? It’s not even five a.m. And it’s a Sunday.”
But Frank was gone, on to announcing camera shifts to the floor directors and setting up the next segments. The camera kid was already heading inside through a narrow door that led to the stairs. He paused, looking at her expectantly. “You coming? Or are you waiting for the ark?”
She smiled distractedly and followed him in, her shoes squeaking on the linoleum steps as she made her way downstairs and toward the dressing room. If Jessica was there, it had to be important. Allison shivered from a chill that had nothing to do with the rain dripping down the back of her neck, and hoped it was a good kind of important and not a bad kind of important.
In the four months since Jessica Jackson had joined the station as news director, Allison had interacted with her only during the staff meetings. Partly because their work obligations rarely had them crossing paths, and partly because Jessica intimidated the heck out of her. She was stoic and intense in a way that Allison could only hope to emulate, and her focus was always on substance and professionalism. While Allison worked hard to be taken seriously as a scientist and a meteorologist, she had an unshakable fear that Jessica found her frivolous. And she’d never get bumped to a better shift if the news director didn’t think she’d earned it.
Allison eyed herself in the mirror of the tiny dressing room, trying to decide if she should change her clothes or freshen her makeup but decided that, at the moment, speed was more important than style. She hung up her raincoat, and simply wrapped a towel around her head before heading down another flight of stairs toward the executive offices.
In spite of the predawn hour, Jessica looked as polished as always, in a close-fitting pantsuit the shade of pink peonies. A surprising choice, perhaps, but she was the type of woman who could wear any shade outfit and still command the room as if she were wearing a military uniform. Her hair was pulled back in a no-nonsense bun high on the crown of her head. Allison instantly regretted the towel and pulled it off as she tapped lightly against the frame of the open door and hoped against hope that her blond hair wasn’t sticking up in every direction. She could have at least pulled it back into a ponytail, but it was too late now.
“Good morning, Jessica. Frank said you wanted to see me?” She couldn’t keep the question out of her tone. The one that said Um, do you really?
Jessica waved her into the room. “Yes, Allison. Come in. Shut the door, please. There’s something I want to discuss with you.”
Shut the door? Uh oh, that couldn’t be good.
“Is it good news or bad news?” she blurted out, as if the ten-second warning would give her time to prepare, but Jessica’s onyx-eyed gaze was enigmatic.
“Most news is neither good nor bad. It’s just news. As in this case.”
Spoken like a seasoned news
“Sit down.” Jessica motioned to the chair.
She stepped forward and her wet shoes made such an unfortunate farty noise that Allison nearly felt the need to say, “excuse me,” but certainly Jessica knew it was her shoes,
right? Honestly, why was she so nervous? She settled gingerly into the chair, feeling like a seventh grader being called to the principal’s office for chewing gum in algebra class.
Without preamble, Jessica said, “I’d like to send you on assignment with a storm-chasing team. You’d leave on Tuesday for Kansas and be gone for a week.”
“A storm-chasing team?”
“Yes.” She let that linger out there and Allison couldn’t help but note that, for a newsperson, Jessica was being very stingy with the details. After a pause, the news director rested her folded arms on the uncluttered desk and continued. “You’ll be expected to tape two to four segments per day. Your reports need to be entertaining as well as educational and informative. If the weather is suitably interesting, we may have you do some live reporting. Do you think you can do that?”
“I’m sure I can,” she answered brightly. In truth, Allison had no idea if she could, in fact, do that, but she was a jump first, figure it out later kind of person, and she’d be damned if she didn’t give this her best shot. Especially since this was exactly the break she’d been waiting for. Segments from the road? With a team of storm chasers? Viewers loved storm chasers. Her street cred would jump by leaps and bounds, not to mention that this was a surefire way to reach a broader audience, and hopefully impress her boss. “May I say I’m honored you have the confidence in my work to send me on this assignment.”
Jessica took a calm sip of coffee from her Channel 7 mug. “My assessment of your abilities remains to be seen but the chief meteorologist seems to think you can handle it. It’s a week on the road in a cramped vehicle with adrenaline chasers who are probably more interested in footage than science, and the chance of you seeing any truly remarkable weather is questionable. Hannah Freemont will be your videographer. You’ll share a room. Still interested?”
“Yes, absolutely.” She didn’t know Hannah other than to say hello while passing in the hallways at the station, but she guessed they were around the same age, twenty-eight, and had the same work ethic. Surely Hannah would be equally motivated to make this trip worthwhile. They’d be fine.
“All right then.” Jessica picked up a manila folder from her desk. “Here’s the rest of the information you’ll need, and, Allison, I’m sure it goes without saying that I expect focused, high-quality reports that the station can be proud of. We’re one spot behind Channel 4 in the Nielsen ratings and it’s no secret I was brought on board to surpass them. They just got a traffic helicopter, and if we want to compete with that, we’ll have to pull out all the stops. I need you to go find us a tornado.”
Allison nodded, accepting the folder. “I promise you’ll get the very best from me, Jessica. I won’t disappoint you.”
“I’m glad to hear that.”
Sensing this meeting was over, Allison rose from the chair and walked out of the news director’s office and around the corner before doing a silent jig of joy in the hall. Finally, an assignment with some sparkle to it, and a chance to really show Jessica what she was capable of. Catching sight of the oversized clock on the wall, she realized she had just enough time to try to fix her hair before heading back up to the roof for her next segment. Then there were the radio spots to phone in, graphics to make, and a dozen other things to handle before her workday ended. The folder and its information would have to wait, so it wasn’t until she’d gotten home, changed into comfy sweats, and microwaved some soup for dinner before she opened it. Two pages in, the spoon clattered against the side of the bowl and chicken broth splashed onto her sleeve as she read the names of who she was about to spend seven days—and evenings—with.
No, no, no.
Just… anybody else.
She could storm chase with anybody. Except Dylan Parks.
Chapter 2
“Ride-alongs? Seriously? Who the hell approved ride-alongs?” Dylan Parks’ scowl was only half serious as he stuffed a couple of clean but wrinkled tee shirts into the well-traveled duffel bag sitting on his bed.
“I did. We need the cash.” Chris, his storm-chasing partner and the best driver Dylan had ever worked with, picked up a sock that had fallen to the floor and tossed it at his head.
Dylan caught it and added it to the bag, even though the mate was still somewhere on the floor. Then he nodded. “Cash is handy, but you know how these tagalongs always slow us down. They like to stop and stretch their legs. They want food and bathroom breaks, and if they aren’t getting in the way of the shot, then they end up talking too much on the video. There’s a huge weather system developing south of Woodward, Oklahoma, and it looks to be a crazy day. We need to get our crew on the road in the next hour.”
Chris handed him the leather toiletry bag sitting on the wooden dresser. “Not a problem. All the guys are already here, and our guests should arrive in the next fifteen minutes or so. It’s a meteorologist and her shooter so at least they’ll know better than to talk over any video.”
Dylan looked up from trying to wrangle the toiletry bag in between the tee shirts. He knew shooter meant videographer, but it was the other word that caught his attention.
“Her? One of them is a woman?”
Chris grinned. “Even better. They’re both women.”
Dylan shook his head slowly. “Did you not hear what I just said about bathroom breaks?”
Truthfully, he had no issue with women meteorologists, or women videographers, or women in general. His mother and his sisters had kicked his ass more than once, and he knew better than to suggest that a woman wasn’t as capable as a man. Except at one thing. Peeing into a Gatorade bottle when there wasn’t time to stop the car. The storms developing in the south were going to be vast, and would move fast, and his team had to keep up with them. They’d missed two opportunities last week to get any decent footage thanks to a broken tailpipe that needed repair, and this week was all about catching up.
“She knows the drill, Dylan,” Chris said. “I talked to her on the phone yesterday and she sounds cool. Plus, it’s good money for nothing more than having them ride in the back seat and do a few segments from the road.”
“Road segments? You don’t think those will slow us down?”
Chris arched a dark eyebrow. “That’s ironic coming from the guy who takes forty-five minutes every day to style his hair. Before going out into a tornado.”
Dylan laughed with acceptance and bent to pick up the other sock. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Okay. We’ll make it work. Hey, could you check the batteries for all the cameras? I meant to do that last night.”
“Already done. I also restocked the first aid kit, filled up the water bottles, loaded the cooler, put Rain-X on both the Blaster and the Sidewinder, dropped your dog off at the neighbor’s house, packed up the drone, and did about ten other things to get us ready. Unlike you, I don’t need ten hours of beauty sleep. I’ve been working since seven this morning so, you’re welcome. Now get your shit together so we can get out of here.” He turned and strode away, whistling the Jeopardy! theme song.
“I’ll be ready in ten minutes,” Dylan called after him.
“Make it five.”
They both knew it would be fifteen.
Chris was the business side of their team, deftly handling all of the day-to-day stuff. Dylan, on the other hand, was the visionary and the risk-taker. They were both meteorologists, but while Chris was all about details and gadgetry, Dylan had earned a reputation for having an uncanny instinct about which storms would turn into tornadic supercells, and which of those supercells would ultimately produce funnels. It was a good balance between the two of them and over the past three years of working together, they’d ironed out any kinks in their system. Except that Chris was always early, and he was always late.
