Iris Johansen (28 page)

Victoria tried not to look at Amos, at those hopeful, red-rimmed eyes. After all he’d done for her, how could she turn down such an earnest request? “I haven’t decided,” she said once again. “Amos, can you in good conscience send me off for two weeks alone with your nephew? At the very least he’ll drive me crazy. At the
worst he’ll distract me so badly I’ll make a dumb decision and get us both killed.”

“Now, missy, I’ve never seen you get even a little rattled during a chase, and I don’t believe you’ll start now, no matter how, er, distracting my nephew might be.”

“Distracting” didn’t even begin to describe Roan Cullen, Victoria thought.

“Besides,” Amos continued, “he might turn out to be a better chase partner than you think. I’ll wager he’s a great navigator, and you can’t argue with his photographic skills. He’ll blow both of us away in that area.”

“Please, let’s not talk about getting blown away.”

Amos chuckled briefly, but then his expression grew somber. “If you don’t want to chase with Roan, I suppose I could find someone else for him to ride with. Those two kids from the university, John Higgenbotham and Dave Devors. They’re always looking for someone to finance their chase trips, and I’ll warrant Roan would front the money.”

Victoria shivered at the thought of those three on the road together. “John and Dave? Neither of them can forecast their way out of a paper bag, and when they’re lucky enough to find a storm, their main objective seems to be to punch right through the middle of it and do as much damage to their car as possible.”

Amos frowned. “Hmm, you’re right. Roan would only encourage them to be irresponsible. Any other suggestions?”

“What about Eddie and Marilyn Dunne?”

Amos shook his head. “I wouldn’t do that to Eddie.
You know how Marilyn is. She likes to chase something besides storms, and she’d be on Roan like mold on cheese.” Amos sighed. “Oh, well, maybe next year. I hope he doesn’t decide to take off on his own to chase storms. He knows just enough about it to get himself in real trouble.”

Victoria couldn’t stand to hear the defeat in Amos’s voice. “Oh, all right!” she said, wondering what she was getting herself into. “I’ll give it a try. But if Roan doesn’t behave himself, I’m coming straight home.”

Amos beamed. “That’s my girl. I knew you wouldn’t let me down.”

They suspended their conversation when Roan came back inside carrying a cardboard box full of dirty laundry. “Okay if I use your washer and dryer, Unc?” he asked.

“Sure. It’s out on the back porch.”

“I remember.”

Victoria watched him walk through the kitchen. She couldn’t help herself. He had a certain aura about him that drew the female eye. It wasn’t just his taut body either. It was more a sense of quiet but dangerous layers that hid just below the happy-go-lucky surface.

She realized Amos was talking to her.

“…  leave the dishes and go watch the Weather Channel. I want to see what’s cooking for tomorrow.”

They sat together on the couch in the living room. Amos made notes on the photocopied blank maps he always kept at the ready. Victoria stared at the screen, but her attention was on the sound of running water and off-key whistling coming from the back porch.

“Just one thing I should warn you about,” Amos said quietly, his eyes on the screen as he penciled in fronts, wind direction, and high and low pressure zones.

“Just one?” she said dryly.

“No matter what happens, don’t let Roan drive.”