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We all cheer and laugh, clinking our bottles together before drinking. That paper gave us a lot of headaches, and I know Ryker and Finley are glad it’s done and published. We can all move on to even bigger things, especially since Finley graduated recently, completing the credits she needed under a new female professor that Ryker suggested the university hire in his place. Finley even asked her to come on a chase with us later this summer to add more feminine energy—which I think is a great idea.

The team is also glad because we don’t have to rely on the school for any funding. All our chases and newly-designed rockets my man and I created have been funded by private donors and grants—and we can’t forget merchandise sales. Women love Ryker’s face on their tits, and Finley thinks it’s hilarious.

After another round of cheers and celebration, we all move to sit back down, but as my butt’s about to hit the chair, all our phones go off with emergency alerts. I stand back up and face my team, the lot of them pulling out their phones like I am.

“Looks like that storm cell east of here went severe,” Finley says.

I tuck my phone back in my Wranglers and throw my arm around Hawk’s shoulder, shaking him a bit in my excitement. “Whaddya say, people? Cap this night off with a little storm-chasing action?”

Hawk gently smiles at me, and I think he’s blushing, still not quite used to me touching him in front of everyone. But he’ll get used to it, and I know he likes it or he wouldn’t be heated the way he is.

“I’m game,” Ezra says.

“Sounds like a good way to celebrate,” Hawk adds.

The three of us turn our gazes to Finley and Ryker, but Finley’s looking at Ryker, too, waiting for our team leader to say the words.

He stands a little straighter under our attention and turns the red ball cap he had facing forward to the back, a sly smirk teasing the corner of his lips. Fuck, I love when T-Daddy gets all dramatic.

“Let’s hit the road. We’ve got a twister to tame.”