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Ezra pats him on the back. “Personally, I think it’s better than Twister Tamer.”

“You’re the one who coined it.” Ryker gripes.

“Correction: the internet did. I simply perpetuated it. I like this one better.”

Joey pumps his fist in triumph. “That’s what I’m talking about! Think of all the money you could make and the funds you’d bring in for research.”

“He’s right, you know,” Ezra adds.

Ryker growls at Ezra, but despite his annoyance, there’s a playful undertone. “Do not encourage him.”

Ezra’s grin grows wider, turning mischievous. “Let me get a pre-order up, and I’ll put it online—”

“Jesus, no!” Ryker grouses. “If you all don’t stop, I’ll make everyone call me Professor West the rest of the weekend.”

Fire lights in my belly, and I look down at my feet in hopes I haven’t turned red. What I actually want to do is look at him and say, “Really?” but obviously, I’m not going to do that. The goal is to not bring attention to our plight.

When I finally collect myself and meet his gaze, I catch Joey watching me with a strange look, just like he did earlier. From the not-so-subtle comments and glances he made on the drive, I think he really does suspect that more than surviving a tornado happened between me and Professor West. At least now if he brings it up, I can turn the tables and ask him about Hawk.

“It’s happening!” Ezra yells as all of our phones start going off with emergency alerts. “The storm in the north went severe; let’s go, boys.” Then he turns to me. “And woman.”

I shake my head and smile. “Let’s go.”

Everyone kicks into high gear. Joey hops into the backseat of Thor while the other guys head to Ryker’s truck. I move toward the truck as well so I can get my bag from the back, but Ryker stops me with a gentle hand on my wrist. I gaze down at where his skin touches mine, my heart rate kicking up, then look up and glance around. Nobody is paying attention to us, and he lingers a moment longer than he should before dropping his hand.

“What is it?” I ask.

He points to the hard case in the back of Thor and then opens it. A short gasp leaves my mouth when I see almost the exact camera I lost yesterday—but this is the brand-new version. It’s stunning.

“For the one I got destroyed yesterday,” Ryker says.

My eyes snap to his, and I shake my head. “How did you get this?”

“I looked up a local store last night and had the guys pick it up this morning when they opened. Everything is ready to go for you.”

I take a tentative step forward and run my fingers over the camera. “I can’t accept this.”

“You can.”

I pull my hand back. “You know I can’t.”

Ryker takes out the camera, which already has a strap connected to it. “The pictures you take are incredible; the world deserves to see them. To see the storms you capture.”

My gut swirls, and a pang echoes in my chest. He’s seen my photos plenty of times, and more than once, we’ve gotten a little too comfortable with each other during his office hours when showing him my favorites. Most recently, nearly a month agonow, I’d brought him a shoot I did of a supercell in Iowa. He’d been impressed.

We’d stayed huddled close together, our arms and thighs touching as I showed him each one until the janitor came and told us he had to kick us out and turn the lights off. Before yesterday, I’d used that memory when I was in the quiet of my apartment. I’d imagine that we’d kissed, that he’d laid me out on his desk and pressed his body into mine, made me his.

I swallow the lump in my throat and stare at the camera in his strong hands. “Ryker, I—”

“Are you two going to talk all afternoon, or are we going to show this storm who its daddy is?” Joey yells from inside Thor.

My eyes meet Ryker’s, and he holds my gaze for another beat. “The camera belongs to you,” he says. “Please, take it.”

I hold his stare with mine and then finally nod. He’s not going to take no for an answer—I can see it in his eyes. So I take it from his hands and place it around my neck. “Thank you.”

A small smile tugs at his lips when he sees me wearing it. “No thanks needed. Like I said, the world needs your photographs.” His lips part as if he wants to say more, but then Joey yells for us again, breaking our trance.

“Let’s go,” he says. “The storm is waiting.”