Taking Chances: Tangled Up Part 1

Taking Chances.

Tangled Up.

Erin Nicholas.

To my family, as always.

To Mari and Kim for cheering me on, as always.

To everyone I blew off, canceled on, or was otherwise a jerk to while trying to make this deadline (like the customer-service rep at Verizon and the guy at Hy-Vee. But not the woman at Orbitz . . . you totally deserved it).

And to Lauren, who made this story shine.

CHAPTER ONE.

"d.a.m.n, girl, you make me want to break all kinds of laws."

Bree McDermott-Officer McDermott-turned to him and raised her eyebrow. "You know I won't think twice about using my stun gun on you."

He did know that, as a matter of fact.

"You promise to be extra rough when you handcuff me?" Max asked her with a big grin.

Bree laughed and launched herself into his arms. "You're just hoping to get frisked."

He caught her, with his arms around her back instead of hands-on-a.s.s as he was tempted to. "I'd frisk you right back. Just keep that in mind." He gave her a tight squeeze before dropping her back on her feet.

She looked up at him. "Where have you been? I thought you'd be here last night."

Max was in town, along with at least two dozen of their cla.s.smates, for their ten-year high school reunion. He'd meant to get home hours ago, but his job was unpredictable-to say the least. "Got caught up in some stuff in Oklahoma City and then had to stop by the farm."

He knew that Bree would know he was talking about Montgomery Farms, the huge operation that had been in his family for four generations. The three hundred and fifty acres included the best peach and apple trees in the state, sixty-five acres of pumpkins, and nationally renowned strawberries and watermelons. It was the biggest employer in Chance, Nebraska, and the heart of the town's economy.

The farm was now up for sale, and the family from Kansas that was interested in buying was coming to visit in two weeks. Everyone in town was pitching in to be sure the farm, and the town where these people would live and attend church and send their kids to school, was in top form.

"I had some lumber and supplies to drop off out there, and I got to talking to my dad," Max went on. "But I'm here for the next three days."

"You'd better be."

"So come on."

"What?"

"There's a storm brewing." He knew she heard the excitement in his voice.

That delight was reflected in her eyes as she processed his words.

"I knew there was a tornado watch in effect, but we thought only a thunderstorm was confirmed," she said, looking at the skies overhead.

When she met his eyes again, he gave her a wink. "I might know some things."

Her smile grew, and her eyes widened. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. Let's go."

She looked at her watch. "I've got fifteen minutes left on my shift."

Max looked around the square. Even on a busy day like today, with all the alums coming back for the big ten-year cla.s.s-reunion party, Chance was as tranquil and safe as it got. Except for the weather.

Chance was a tornado magnet. It had the dubious honor of being the town hit most often by EF4- and 5-level tornadoes. They'd been hit nine times by the crazy-destructive storms since they'd been founded and had now been hit two years in a row. And it looked like something was coming again.

"Since you became a cop, Chance hasn't had a lot of crime to speak of, has it?" he teased.

It wasn't because she was a kick-a.s.s cop, though she was. It was because she was no longer available to lead the h.e.l.l-raising.

"I never did anything illegal," she protested as they started across the square.

"You never got caught doing anything illegal. Drinking before you're twenty-one, borrowing' Mrs. Gordon's barbecue grill for a party in the park, jimmying the lock on the rec center so you could play video games at one in the morning-all illegal."

"I didn't jimmy that lock," she said. "I just stuck a wad of gum over the latch when I was in there earlier that day."

Max laughed. "Oh, that makes it completely on the up-and-up, then."

She rolled her eyes but couldn't argue. She was very familiar with late-night mischief, reckless driving, and even public intoxication. If anyone knew how troublemakers thought, it was Bree.

"Come on. You can knock off a few minutes early," he said, noticing that they were approaching her squad car.

She looked around. "I guess if I was patrolling and happened to notice a change in the weather, that wouldn't be out of the line of duty," she said.

It cracked him up when Bree was overly concerned about rules and regulations. It was so different from the teenage Bree he'd known, loved, and worried about. "That's my girl."

"I mean, protecting and serving includes making sure that any severe weather is watched, right?" she said.

They were now at her car, and she'd already unbuckled her gun belt. She leaned in through the window and laid the belt and gun on the front seat. Only in Chance would the cop cars sit around the town square with their windows down and the keys in the ignition.

"Absolutely," Max agreed. "And text Avery and let her know I have my eye on something."

Avery Sparks was the town's fire chief and in charge of emergency management. She was also one of Bree's best friends.

"No problem. I'm watching for Jake for her, too," Bree said with a grin as she started unb.u.t.toning her uniform shirt.

He wasn't sure what her plan was here, but far be it from him to stop a woman from unb.u.t.toning her shirt in front of him.

She shrugged out of the short-sleeved navy-blue polyester shirt and tossed it in the backseat. That left her in only her white tank top.

Max swallowed hard and pulled his eyes from the toned, tan skin of her shoulders and arms and the swell of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s behind the soft cotton.

"Jake?" he asked, focusing on her words rather than her b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

"Avery wants us to warn her if we see him."

Jake Mitch.e.l.l was one of Max's cousins, and he had a habit of getting the fire chief riled up whenever he blew into town. "You'll see him," Max told her. Jake would be here any time. His other cousin, Dillon, might already be in town.

The guys had all been born within two months of one another and had gone through every year of school, Little League, Boy Scouts, summer camp, and basic training together. They had now spread out for their work, but none of them missed a chance to come home, and the high school cla.s.s reunion was a fantastic excuse.

"So what do you think's happening?" Bree leaned back against the side of her car and pulled a foot up to untie her shoe.

"Leave 'em on," he said of her heavy black work shoes.

She paused. "Really?"

"We might need to get out, go tramping around somewhere. Those shoes are perfect."

She set her foot down. "We might get out and go tramping around?"

He grinned at the clear enthusiasm on her face at the idea. Bree was, hands down, his favorite person to storm chase with. h.e.l.l, she was his favorite person to do most things with.

Storm chasing was an old pa.s.sion for him, newer for her. She'd always loved storms-the wilder and louder the better, which fit her perfectly-but she hadn't gotten into their study the way Max had. He'd been storm chasing since he'd been a teen. Bree had started going along with him only a year ago. Now, whenever he was back in Chance, they had a standing date. Those were his favorite trips. He loved that he could say, "I'm heading out. You coming?" and she'd throw stuff into a duffel and be in his pa.s.senger seat in five minutes.

He was grateful this storm was rolling in, as if following him to town. This might be the last summer he and Bree chased together. For a while, anyway. Bree was taking a job as a skydiving instructor in Arizona. She was leaving in August. A little more than two months from now.

Of course, she'd probably be back by this time next year. As much as Bree job-hopped, town-hopped, hobby-hopped, she always ended up back in Chance. He'd been a resident of Oklahoma City for the past several years, but he still took whatever excuse he could to get back to Nebraska. This was home. His mom and dad and aunts and uncles and grandparents were here.

And so was Bree.

And now that he'd discovered how much more fun storm chasing was with her in his pa.s.senger seat, he was going to make the most of the time he had with her. It wasn't like he didn't have plenty of storms to chase where he lived. One thing Oklahoma City had plenty of was wild weather. But nothing in Oklahoma City spiked his adrenaline like chasing with Bree. She was a fast-and-furious type of girl. He could show up without notice, sweep her into his truck for a couple of days, and then drop her off on her doorstep before heading back to work. She was not only low maintenance enough to go without a blow dryer or hot water for a few days, but she loved spontaneity.

Keeping Bree McDermott on her toes was a tough job, but after knowing her for twenty-five years, Max had learned a thing or two. Surprises were key.

Max took a deep breath and squelched the familiar frustration he felt rising. He tried to keep things fun with Bree, light and exciting, because if he thought too much or dug too deep, her inability to settle down made him crazy. He knew where it came from. Her parents believed in making everything an event and an adventure. Bree thought that was how to really live life.

But it made wanting her very complicated.

He wanted to settle down with a woman who seemed allergic to the idea. A woman who was going to be a skydiving instructor, of all f.u.c.king things. Not a cop somewhere else. Not something normal. A skydiving instructor.

Max forced himself to focus on the moment. The wind. The impending rain. The brewing storm. But the coming tempest didn't do much to distract him. It was such a perfect metaphor. He'd been chasing Bree McDermott for years, and his feelings for her churned just like the clouds overhead.

"Those shoes are perfect for tramping around," he told her.

If Bree was the squealing type, he knew she would have let one loose.

Her smile shot straight through his chest, leaving a warm, p.r.i.c.kly sensation behind. It wasn't unpleasant, exactly, but it was definitely noticeable.

He rubbed his chest and said again, "So, let's go."

She reached into the back of her squad car and grabbed the zippered hoodie on the backseat along with a beat-up ball cap.

Good girl. He'd taught her well. The main rule to storm chasing was to be ready for anything. Even in the sultry June air, you wanted to have something to cover as much exposed skin as possible. All kinds of things got stirred up in a storm, and it didn't take much to cause scratches, abrasions, or even worse.

"I have to take the car and my gun and stuff back to the station," she told him, pulling her curly blonde hair up into a mess on top of her head and sticking the cap on top of it.

"I'll follow you." Max spun his key ring around on his finger. "You eat recently?"

She rolled her eyes at him. "Yes, Dad. I had lunch."

"Just asking, 'cuz we might be out for a while."

She started around the front of her car to the driver's side. "What you're really asking is if there are cookies or anything up at the station, right?"

There were. He was sure of it. Max's aunt Heidi was married to Police Chief Mitch.e.l.l and was one of the best bakers in Chance. Heidi made sure the station was always well stocked with homemade goodies.

He gave her a grin. "What I'm really asking is if you'll bring me some when you come back out."

Bree laughed at him. "I was already planning on it. They're peanut b.u.t.ter, and I thought of you as soon as I saw them."

There was that warm, p.r.i.c.kly chest thing again. Max would have really thought he'd be used to it by now. And used to ignoring it. He'd been noticing little signs of affection from Bree for years-and had been brushing them off as nothing to get worked up over since he'd been seventeen.

Except for that one lapse in judgment two years ago.

He shook that off. "I'll see you up there," he told her, turning toward his truck.

He jogged across the square. A quick horn beep caught his attention, and he lifted his hand to wave at Jake. He felt his grin spread, knowing that Bree would be texting Avery.

Jake turned the corner that led up to the school, and Max glanced at his watch. It was early to show up for the reunion. He and Bree had easily an hour, probably more, before they needed to be there. And if they walked in a little late, it wouldn't be the end of the world. He was in a T-shirt and jeans and work boots, but he could quickly pull on his b.u.t.ton-down shirt and tie in the truck and be dressed as formally as he ever got.

The darkening clouds overhead didn't care that the cla.s.s reunion was going on, and that meant Max didn't care. Or, at least, didn't until the clouds moved on. Storm chasing wasn't just his pa.s.sion; it was vital to public safety. Someone had to keep an eye on the weather, especially when the skies started rolling.

A few minutes later, he pulled into the parking lot of the Chance Police Department.

Bree was in and out in five minutes. That was just one more thing that made her the perfect woman-she didn't dillydally.

She was also carrying a plastic sack of peanut b.u.t.ter cookies.

No, that was his picture of perfection. A beautiful woman, ball cap on, ready to storm chase. With cookies.

She tossed the bag onto the middle of the seat and climbed up. Her hoodie was tied around her waist, and the cap was barely containing her wild curls.

"Okay, so what's going on?" she asked as he turned the truck onto Main Street and headed west.

"Tornado watch," he told her.