What a Girl Wants. Amy Vastine
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Summer would admit he was cute, but this kind of welcome was unheard of around here. There was work to be done. She couldn’t stop herself from opening The Weather Channel’s website for a quick peek at the national map while Ken blathered on and on about Travis. She’d just clicked on a headline about how the drought was affecting the butterfly population when she heard her name.
“Right, Summer? I’m sure you can make that work.”
Ken was looking at her expectantly. “Can you repeat that, Ken? It’s hard to hear y’all over here with the fan going.” She pointed at the large oscillating fan blowing on Richard a few cubicles over.
“I said we’re going to take thirty seconds from the weather segment and give it to Travis for the first couple weeks. Give him some time to really connect with the audience.” Ken turned his attention back to Travis. “They’re gonna love you, son.”
Thirty seconds? Summer barely had enough time as it was to fit in everything she wanted to cover. She’d spent hours trimming here and there so she could add a segment she liked to call “Today in Weather History.” She’d been gathering interesting weather facts for weeks. They could not take thirty seconds from her and give them to some stupid, former football player.
“I can’t give you thirty seconds,” she said over the din. The room immediately fell silent. All eyes were on Summer.
“What’s that?” Ken’s smile disappeared and his right eyebrow twitched. He didn’t like being told no.
Summer cleared her throat and dug down deep for the courage she’d inherited from her parents. “I’ve been working on this special segment, and I need all the time I’ve been allotted. I don’t have thirty seconds to give to sports.”
Ken put his hands on his hips and looked down at his feet. Summer could see him wrestling with himself to stay polite. He raised his head and met Summer’s stare. “That’s all well and good, but your special segment is going to take a backseat to Travis right now. Everyone needs to be flexible here.”
“Well, it seems to me, I’m the only one being asked to bend. Sports already gets a minute more than weather. It’s not fair.”
Ken laughed and scratched his head. “Life’s not fair, Summer. Didn’t your mama ever teach you that? My decision is final.”
The entire newsroom looked back at Summer, waiting for her to do something stupid, like argue with him. But she kept her mouth shut, Ken ended the meeting and everyone went back to work. Everyone except Summer. She needed time to stew, her anger and frustration heating her body from the inside out.
Her sulk was quickly interrupted by one Mr. Lockwood. “I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced. Travis Lockwood.” His outstretched hand waited for hers. Summer glared at it before her manners got the best of her and she extended her hand.
“Summer Raines.” She left off her usual “pleasure to meet you.” She was madder than a wet hen but was determined to maintain her composure.
“Summer Raines, the weather girl,” he said with a chuckle. “That’s a good one. Who came up with that name?”
“My parents,” she replied flatly, turning her attention back to the suffering butterfly population. “And my title is meteorologist. Not weather girl.”
He had the nerve to appear abashed. “Sorry. No disrespect intended. Weather girl just fits better. You’re cute, it’s cute. Meteorologist sounds old and decrepit. More like...” He tipped his head in the direction of the noisy fan. “...that guy.”
Summer refused to laugh, even if he was funny. She was also going to ignore that he’d called her cute. “All right, well, some of us need to get back to work on cutting thirty seconds from our report.”
“I’m real sorry about that. I am. I don’t want to step on any toes. Ken has high hopes for me, but I’m a team player. I promise you.” He sat on the edge of her desk, oblivious of the cold shoulder she was attempting to give him.
She looked over at him. Those dimples were almost too much. It didn’t help that he smelled good, like sunshine and soap. Besides the messy hair, he was the epitome of the all-American guy. A big, strong man with a chiseled jaw and a six-pack under his white dress shirt. He probably had a cheerleader at home and two more on the side. Summer was going to steer clear. Men like him were nothing but trouble. Then she looked into his eyes. They were the color of the sky just before it rained. His mouth smiled, but his eyes carried his storm. Whatever the trouble was, she suddenly felt guilty for being unkind.
She sighed. “It’s fine. It’s not your fault. My issue is with Ken.”
Travis brightened instantly. “Good. I’m glad there aren’t any hard feelings between us.”
Nope, no hard feelings. No feelings at all. He could go be cute and charming somewhere else. But he didn’t move. He sat there, staring at her. His attention made her nervous. When Summer got nervous, her brain did unusual things. “Did you know that even though most of the country has been dealing with excessive heat and drought conditions, Anchorage had its coldest July on record?”
Instead of wandering away confused and annoyed the way everyone else did when she spouted random facts, Travis leaned forward, looking interested. “Really? That’s weird, huh?”
“Travis!” Rachel sashayed over, hand on hip and lipstick newly applied. “Now, don’t you worry your pretty little head about Summer. She’s the only one in Abilene who cares more about weather than football. Want me to give you a private tour of the studio before we go on the air?”
“Sure.” Travis stood up and turned his attention back to the weather girl. “Looking forward to working with you, Summer.”
She nodded. “I’m sure it’s going to be great.”
Rachel pursed her lips and scrunched up her nose. Be nice, she mouthed silently from behind Travis. The two of them left Summer alone with her discontented thoughts.
Had she really just let Travis the Time Stealer make her nervous? Did he really think he could turn on the charm and hope all would be forgiven? No way. Summer was going to find a way to reclaim her thirty seconds. One way or another, she would get her “This Day in Weather History” segment. Travis and Ken could count on that.
* * *
BY THE TIME the five o’clock news rolled around, dusty gray clouds had moved in over Abilene and the rest of Big Country. Even though none of the computer models were predicting rain, Summer was going to promise some. During the commercial before her report, Travis walked by the green screen.
“Do y’all say break a leg or something before you go on?”
“Um, no. No one says that,” Summer replied, trying not to laugh. The sound assistant adjusted her mic while Pete, one of the engineering techs, made sure the lighting was right.
“Well, good luck, then, Weather Girl.” Travis started to walk toward the news desk but stopped. “You should wear blue every day.”
Her mouth dropped open. “Huh?”
“It