Wicked Sexy (Men of Discovery Island 1)

“See?” she told him proudly. “Everything and then some. Don’t tell me that being prepared isn’t a good thing.”

A particularly loud crack sounded outside and had her jumping. He was willing to bet that the big oak by Sweet Moon’s front entrance had just come down. As long as the branches missed her cabin and the Jeep, he wasn’t worried. Not yet.

“You make a quality argument.” Squatting down beside her, he started to go through the supplies. The stuff was a smart move on her part and they’d be grateful for it if the storm lasted too long. The box was neatly labeled and had its list of inventory taped to the lid. Definitely Dani’s handiwork, although it had him wondering what else she labeled. Everything, he concluded. She was one organized woman.

“You like being prepared.”

“Yes, of course.” She looked at him as if he’d asked her if she liked breathing. “It’s an occupational hazard.”

“Right. Actuary.”

“When you spend all day figuring out the chances of bad stuff happening, being prepared seems like a no-brainer.” She shook her head, smiling ruefully. “It’s hard to turn off the numbers at the end of the day.”

“So you count everything.” He moved in closer to study her. It was actually difficult to imagine her stuck in an office, crunching numbers all day long. Numbers were boring and lifeless. Dani was...not. When she leaned forward to arrange the stuff in the box, her shoulder brushed his.

He pointed toward the door just as it danced in its frame from a particularly loud gust of rain. “Then you must have a good idea of how this is going to end. You’ve got this storm mapped out from start to finish.”

She ran her fingers along the edges of the box, and then skimmed lightly over the supplies. He’d bet she was itching to order them alphabetically. “I predict outcomes.”

“So no play-by-play?”

“No.” She smiled. “Just aftermaths.”

“Give me an example.”

“Well...” she said, pursing her lips. Dani had some of the most kissable lips he’d ever seen. Nibbling at them suddenly seemed like a very good idea. “This is a Category Three storm, right? It’s been running up the California coast for two days now. There’s a sixty percent chance it merges with an incoming weather system from the Pacific and grows stronger, not weaker. The weather forecasts I heard this morning predict the eye is going to pass about five miles northwest of us, so Discovery Island won’t take a direct hit.”

“That’s a good thing.”

“Very,” she agreed. “But the storm’s still moving near us. We’re going to be on the outer edge of that eye and that means winds of 110 to 120 miles per hour. Seven to eight inches of rain are predicted for the island, but the storm tide and surge should do the most damage. We’re looking at water ten to twelve feet farther inland than normal.”

Dani’s storm was all numbers. Her numbers weren’t wrong, but that wasn’t how he looked at a storm. For him, the wind and the waves were obstacles to be overcome because the only thing that mattered to him was finishing the job. Whoever was stranded in the water—and there was always someone—that person made it. That was his motto and he lived by it.

Until Lars. He held on to that thought for a moment, because apparently he really was a glutton for punishment. Maybe there had been a way to make one more pass. Maybe they could have both gone up in the basket, if he’d dragged his sorry butt to one side and had sat up. There were plenty of possibilities, now that he could think clearly.

Her hand touched his arm, bringing him back to the present. “Earth to Daeg.”

“I’m here.”

“You’re lost in thought,” she challenged.

That was true, but he didn’t want to talk about it. The psychologist he’d seen had done plenty of talking. Problem was, talking didn’t always fix things like this. Lars was gone and no amount of words would bring him back.

“All right, so that’s the storm. Then what?”

“Then we have aftermath. How far the storm surge reached, what kind of damage all that wind and rain did. People lose a roof, end up with boats in their front yards or the beach relocates inside what was their living room. The property damage can be significant.” She frowned earnestly, clearly working the numbers in her head. The little S-shaped crinkle between her eyebrows made him want to lean in and kiss her.

He scoffed. “You ever go see the aftermath of one of these storms you insure? What’s outside isn’t the theoretical problem you’re trying to figure out.”