CHAPTER SEVEN : PART OF A GRANDER PLAN

CHICKASHA, OKLAHOMA

WITH ANOTHER BEAUTIFUL WEATHER DAY ON THE HORIZON, TYLER IS ALWAYS PREPARED TO CHASE. He blares his music loud with the windows down, Boone riding shotgun and their newest face, a reporter named Ben, in the back, their crew trailing closely behind. He has Willow with him too—more in spirit—with the photo strip tucked in the truck visor, a series of snapshots of him and her from the conference, grinning and carefree, their heads tilted together in laughter.

(It takes no real pleading to get her into the photo booth, especially after saying it was in exchange for taking his spin in the twister simulator. Half the pictures capture her laughing at the goofy faces he makes for the camera, while the last one captures him staring at her in absolute awe as she smiles at the lens.

The first time Boone sees the photos, Tyler is three beers in, tipsily rehashing the most life-changing weekend of his life and the heartbreak it ended in. Boone whistles loudly and says, "That's love if I've ever seen it, T."

It makes the heartbreak all the worse and he cracks open another beer.)

He hasn't had the chance to see her yet; lord knows he's been trying, but fate hasn't been cooperating on this chase. It had been a few days of turmoil with her so close yet so far out of reach. Dani had set up a meeting with Channel 9 at the producers' behest, and Tyler had foolishly thought that would be his moment—a chance to swoop back in and steal her away from her prison-like career. But then her pushy, overbearing assistant—Joey or John or whatever his name was—showed up for the meeting. He had been respectable enough until Tyler mentioned their leading meteorologist, at which point he turned up his nose and casually mentioned that she was conveniently out for the week.

Dani and he quickly denied their interest at that attitude, handing Ben the full exclusive to their story, still leaving Tyler feeling thwarted and frustrated.

Still, he feels it in his bones—the time is coming.

Tyler eases his truck into the lot, full of chasers, inexperienced and experienced alike, jumping up the moment his truck pulls in. His eyes are narrow as he spots the StormPAR crew stationed across the way. They got their usual suspects—Javi, the short one, and Scott, the towering jerk who always seems to think his little tablet makes him a field expert, and their team of button-ups.

Two new figures stand out: both blonde, backs turned to him. The first has her hair pinned up, every strand in place, looking all business. The second has a cascade of curls flowing down her back, and the sight of them—triggers a memory. A flash of tangled curls spread across pillows, blowing free in the wind. Tyler squints, almost convinced he's seeing things. He blinks, shaking off the thought. There's no way she'd just be here, of all places, on the same damn day.

Meanwhile, Boone's already rolling down his window, camera in hand, leaning out with a huge grin. "Hey, StormPAR!" Boone shouts, his voice carrying across the lot. "You're live on YouTube! Say somethin'!"

Tyler smirks, hearing a muttered retort from one of the StormPAR crew. Boone's taunts always draw a reaction—it's half the fun. Tyler knows he's guilty of riling them up himself, cutting them off whenever they get a little too close to a lead. StormPAR and its pack of degrees don't stand a chance of beating the Wranglers to the eye of the storm.

"Hah!" Dani's voice crackles over the radio from her position in the caravan. "Chat's blowing up saying Boone just blinded some weather girl."

Tyler raises an eyebrow, amused, and raises his radio to respond. "What, he aimed right at her?"

"Yep," Dani replies, stifling a laugh. "Some blonde lady hangin' out with StormPAR. Clipboard's all over it—she's fine."

He shakes his head, a chuckle slipping out. "Boone, don't be turnin' that light in people's faces," he says, though his tone's more playful than scolding as he brings the truck to a stop. Boone lets out a yip in agreement before tumbling out of the truck and into their crowd of fans.

The lot is a wild mix of excitement—tourists eager for a taste of the storm-chasing lifestyle and fellow chasers he's built a reputation with, clamoring for his attention. Their voices nearly drown out the pulsating bass of his music. He can feel the humidity and buzz of adrenaline in the air, punctuated by the sound

Tyler laughs and steps out, hanging onto the edge of the truck cab for a moment, soaking in the scene. It's what he loves— that thrill of being the center of attention as he adjusts his hat atop his head.

"Hey, T! Tell the folks how you're feeling," Boone narrates.

"I'm feeling pretty good, Boone," he answers, before shouting into his typical chant. It resounds around him, the response louder each time.

As the chant fades, Tyler steps down from his truck and into the crowd, his gaze sweeping across it. He darts his eyes right to where StormPAR's team has gathered. He smirks, reaching to tip his hat their way just to let them know they're being out-chased before they even hit the road when he almost stumbles.

Right in the middle of Javi's clipboard crew, there she is—Willow Thornton, his weather girl, eyes right on him, with those curls cascading down her shoulders just like he remembers. There ain't no denying that face, not when he's spent the last two and half weeks either dreaming of it or seeing it on the tv sets in every gas station in northeast Oklahoma. The sight hits him like a jolt, stopping him dead, lips parting in surprise at the sight of her.

Willow looks just as stunned, her green eyes wide with disbelief, nails digging into her bicep he remembers her having a scar. She ain't running, though, as much as she sits there and twitches like she will. For the first time, he wishes he didn't have the crowd, that he could be Tyler, a cowboy from Arkansas, just for a moment so he could weave through and get his girl.

Because like hell if he isn't glad to see her.

Tyler's got plenty of questions for her, each more pressing than the last, starting with why the hell is she with StormPAR? What does Scott think he's doing standing so close to her? But as he watches her, a part of him doesn't want to hear any answers; he just longs to hear her laugh, see her smile, and convince her to give him that second chance he so desperately wants.

Tyler cannot help it: he raises his hat and tips it her way only, unable to keep the shit-eating grin from spreading into a true smile. Ain't fate somethin' else?

CHICKASHA, OKLAHOMA

THAT MOTHERFUCKER SMILES AT HER. It sends her heart racing, a quick pitter-patter in her chest that feels both exhilarating and terrifying. It's not a mocking smile; it's genuine, the same one she had seen that entire weekend—the one she dreams of seeing for the rest of her life.

He isn't mad at her—he wouldn't be smiling like that if he were. For a fleeting moment, it eases the tension coiling in her stomach, yet it also ignites a furious spark within her. That damn, perfect man, forgiving her so easily, willing to accept her without hesitation. She had been right—he probably would have rolled over and sacrificed his own happiness just to soothe her fears, allowing himself to be with her even if it meant stepping back from his dreams.

Willow shakes her head, refusing to let that lure her in. She has a plan, and for their sake, she needs to stick to it. This isn't just about Tyler; it's about finding herself again in the storms and data and her reunion with her friends, bringing them on the cusp of redemption. There's no room for distracting cowboys and their heart-tugging smiles for now; he'll have to wait for later.

She whips back around and forces herself to focus on the storm. The crowd clamoring for her cowboy and his t-shirts and mugs will fade into the distance. The plan may not be going exactly according to plan, but if she is quick enough, she can still figure out if she can chase again before she talks to him.

"Can we just get this thing going? I'm ready to find us a storm to chase," Willow says, her voice slightly shaky as she turns to Javi. She glances over her shoulder, half-expecting Tyler to appear at any moment, but he is still surrounded by his adoring fans, signing flags and photos. His eyes seem to find hers at just the right moment, looking at her with another small little smile. Willow swallows hard, trying to push down the knot of nerves tightening in her stomach.

"Yeah," Javi replies, his eyes narrowing as he looks between Tyler and Willow. "All right, then let's get ahead of this bunch." He takes a tablet from one of his crew's hands, already lit up with the radar, and passes it to her. The tablet may be in Willow's hands, but the pressure is not only her burden. Kate has the natural instinct to spot the storms, Willow has the instinct to chase them.

"Which storm should we chase?" Javi prompts, glancing at the radar.

Scott leans in, tapping on the corner of the tablet. "There's a nice-looking cell over to the east."

Willow furrows her brows at the map of greens, yellows, and reds, studying the readings as she does every day. "Scott is right," she mutters to Kate without lifting her gaze from the screen. "The numbers on the east cell are promising, but the west..."

She tilts the tablet slightly for Kate to see, hoping her friend will feel the same tension. There's potential in those cells around Chickasha, but the true tells are in the sky. It's like riding a bike; she and Kate share a silent exchange, a rhythm developed over years of chasing storms together, instinct guiding their choices.

Kate nods in agreement, and they step in sync, moving through the StormPAR crew toward an open field with a clear view of the sky. Willow sets off with her, ready to get going, but a flicker of doubt lingers in the back of her mind, especially with Tyler nearby. She can feel his presence, a magnetic pull that both comforts and unnerves her.

But then footsteps continue to sound off behind them. Willow turns around and finds every member of the StormPAR crew practically on their heels, waiting for direction. There's pressure in the air and it is not just from the approaching storm cells- it is from the surrounding, expecting crew. It thickens with each passing second, and it feels suffocating.

Kate catches Javi's gaze, pulling him aside from the group. "It's, uh, it's been a while. I..." She hesitates, already taking the tablet from Willow's hands and handing it back to Javi. "Why don't we just watch on this first one?"

"No, no, it's all right," he tries to assure her. "You got this. It's why you're here." He pushes the tablet back toward Willow.

Willow takes the tablet again but clicks her tongue. "Some space would be nice," she mutters under her breath, tossing a look over her shoulder at his crew. "Think we could lose the peanut gallery?"

Javi takes the hint and sighs. He turns towards his crew and claps his hands together one final time. "All right, all right, guys, let's go," he tells them, getting them to disperse finally.  "Everybody get their last bathroom break in."

Scott takes a turn ordering them around too but Willow and Kate are already setting back out toward their field. Willow keeps a tight hold on the radar, but still intent on getting her look at the skies, use that distance to carve out their own space to track. Out in the field, away from the chaos of prepping for a chase, the air finally feels lighter, and more manageable.

"I heard you took up reporting," Kate starts off the moment they are actually alone, with no prying voices around them.

"It seemed like the most sensible route," Willow says with a nonchalant shrug, but her eyes betray a hint of uncertainty.

"A sensible route you'd hate," Kate quips, raising an eyebrow as she nudges Willow playfully. Of course, she knows—she doesn't even have to see her in action to tell.

"Yeah," Willow admits, her voice softening. "At the time, it felt like the closest I could get to chasing without actually chasing around here." She glances up from the tablet to her. "Javi told me you went to the NOAA; closest thing for you too?"

"Yeah, without subjecting myself to the torture of being on camera," Kate jabs, and Willow lets out a low whistle to show her mock hurt.

Willow takes a moment to glance back at the swirling excitement of the chaser teams, catching sight of the white Storm PAR trucks again. "Crazy to think it was Javi that started a storm-chasing company in the end."

"I know! It feels like he's an entirely different person sometimes," Kate agrees, shaking her head. "Like the same ol' Javi wearing the skin of some business entrepreneur." A snort bubbles to the surface. "I used to feel lucky if we could get him to wear pants."

Willow's laughter rings out across the field, lightening the mood and triggering Kate's own snickering. The weight of Javi's expectations for them seems to dissipate in their shared camaraderie, floating away like the clouds above. It feels just like old times.

"Which one are you thinking?" Kate asks, glancing toward Willow. There is no doubt in Willow's mind that her instincts already chose a storm, only searching for that confirmation that it is theirs to chase, just as she always did.

"Definitely not the east," Willow answers, her gaze drifting skyward, the nerves rising in her chest. The tablet feels heavy in her hands as she shifts her focus to the horizon. "Conditions aren't right; the cap is too strong."

"There are those two cells to the west," Kate continues. "One might give out and strengthen the other by the time we reach it."

Willow gives her a small smile. They hesitate to return, even with a possible storm chosen, letting the quiet and open space settle over them for a moment. Willow glances over her shoulder one last time, just to be absolutely sure he still seems too busy to notice her.

Kate catches it. She studies Willow's face, sensing her anxiety. "Why do you keep glancing back?"

Willow hesitates, the words catching in her throat. "I..." She trails off, making a mocking wince. "I kind of know the Tornado Wrangler," she finally admits, her voice barely above a whisper.

"How well do you know him?" Kate asks, narrowing her eyes, her tone teasing like she already knows.

"Biblically," Willow replies with a heavy sigh.

The other woman lets out a low groan. "It's been five years, and you're telling me your type really hasn't changed?" she deadpans, plucking a dandelion from the field, her voice filled with playful disbelief. She's seen the trail of cowboys that the blonde left in her wake long before Javi and Jeb started helping pick up the pieces.

"He ain't like that," Willow defends, clutching the tablet tighter against her chest. "It's a long story; I'll tell you later." Because there will be a later. Kate ain't running off again on her watch.

Kate closes her hand around the seed head, tugging off each grain with a single pull. It is a tried and true old way, one Bill taught his niece on the first chase he caved for and Willow did her duty to pass it on to Kate. She watches fondly as Kate opens her palm and each grain begins to float its way with the wind direction.

"You know, I used to do that, too," a voice cuts in behind them. Kate and Willow both turn to find the storm-chasing cowboy Willow had thought she narrowly avoided. She curses herself for letting her guard down; for not choosing a storm sooner and relishing in the time with Kate.

Willow immediately turns back around; her body is on edge enough as it is with it being her first chase in five years and he certainly is not helping by sending her pulse skyrocketing to. She blatantly ignores him, focusing on the tablet in her hands as if she still needs to figure out which cell to follow.

Tyler must have taken that as a challenge. She can hear the crunch of his boots against the soil as he wanders up closer to them in the field. "Compare the wind direction to cloud movement. Get you a feel for the shear." He lets out a short sigh. "Yep. Sometimes the old ways are better than the new."

Willow can feel his gaze bore into her, studying her with curiosity. She cannot help but take another look at him. Tyler seems to perk up when she finally gives him attention, even if it is just the mere turn of her head away from the tablet. "Hey, weather girl."

"Hey, cowboy," she cannot help herself from responding, her voice barely above a whisper, glancing right back down the moment she says it. She can see his grin out of the corner of her eye.

"You really ain't gonna talk to me?" Tyler asks her, but she doesn't give him the dignity of a response. What did Scott tell that one guy earlier? Do not engage. She hears him turn towards Kate. "She always this stubborn?"

"As a mule," Kate responds, talking about Willow as if she isn't there.

Tyler chuckles, half-amused, half-annoyed with her silent treatment. Realizing he'll get nothing from Willow, especially with the way every time his eyes flicker toward her, she pretends to be engrossed in her screen, he redirects his attention to Kate. "Where you coming in from?"

"New York," Kate replies casually.

"Well, you're a long way from home, city girl," Tyler replies. "What are you two doin' here chasin' with StormPAR?" Willow notes the way he says the name with as much disdain as Javi has when he talks about Tyler—no love lost between them.

Before Kate can answer, another man approaches, tall and lanky with round glasses. This time, Willow looks up. "Tyler, do we know which storm we're going after yet?"

Tyler pauses with a sly glint in his eye. "Well, why don't we ask..." He glances at Willow first, then shifts to Kate when she still refuses to acknowledge him.

"Kate," she answers for them before jutting her thumb at Willow. "And you know Will." Willow sees the flicker of recognition in Tyler's eyes when he hears Kate's name—the one she shared out on his family ranch in her story of her best friend.

"Hi, I'm Tyler," he greets her pleasantly as if she's an old friend.

"And I'm Ben," the other man introduces himself in an accent the exact opposite of these parts. " I'm a reporter, doing a piece on American storm chasing. Tyler's letting me ride along."

"Yeah, Ben just had to promise to write nothing but good stuff about me," Tyler jokes.

Willow, finally having enough, sighs and tucks the tablet to her side. "That sounds nice," she says dryly, taking a quick step to the side in an attempt to extricate herself from the conversation. "Kate, we gotta' go."

But Tyler steps forward, catching her hand before she can slip away. Her breath catches in her throat; she didn't think it was possible to tense and relax simultaneously. His touch is electric, unnerving—but she isn't sure she wants him to let go. "Hang on. You didn't say which way you were going yet," he says, eyes lifting to the sky. "Now, from what I gather, west, we double our chances. East... well, that's high risk, high reward."

"Well, go for the reward," Willow challenges, a sharp edge to her voice. She hopes the jab will be enough to make him let her go. "Wouldn't want Ben to think you're boring, would you?"

Tyler clicks his tongue, too pleased to have attention to be insulted. "You know boring's not a problem for me, darlin'."

The tension between them crackles like the approaching storm. Her gaze slips from his eyes to his lips, the same ones that had once traced every inch of her skin.

(Willow has to remind herself she is here to chase a storm, not a cowboy.

Then again, sometimes there ain't no difference.)

Kate looks between Tyler and Willow and lets out an exasperated sigh. "The two cells to the west are fighting over the same inflow," she interrupts, grabbing both of their attention in a bored tone. "They'll choke each other out. This one to the east has the sky all to herself. Moisture, wind shear, instability. All the things you need to give Ben a good show."

"City girl knows her stuff, Ben," Tyler says. To make sure his point sticks, he repeats,"I said, 'City girl knows her stuff, Ben'."

Kate rolls her eyes. "Thanks. Maybe if we work real hard, we could be Tornado Wranglers, too." She begins walking away, nodding her head for Willow to follow, but her hand is still in Tyler's. She pauses for a moment, giving Willow a look. "You need a minute?"

"No."

"Yes," Tyler says at the exact same time. Willow shoots him a scornful glance.

"Just a minute," he adds with a slight smile. "Please."

Willow sighs and gives Kate a nod, assuring her it's fine. Kate heads off, and Ben follows, taking the hint and rejoining the rest of the crew. Now alone, Willow looks down, feeling the weight of Tyler's hand in hers. The first thing she does is wiggle her fingers out of his grasp, much to his disappointment.  the familiarity of it tugging at memories and feelings she's tried to set aside.

"I ain't sure talking right now is the best," she says, guarded. "You got a storm to chase."

"Sounds like you do too," Tyler replies, undeterred. "Station got you chasin' with StormPAR?"

"That ain't any of your business."

Tyler's gaze softens. "I want you to be my business, though, baby," he says, his voice so genuine it almost makes her heart ache. She realizes he's taken off his sunglasses at some point, and now she can see right into that blue that tempts her to fall right into his arms.

"Are you gonna be okay? Chasin'?" he asks, voice low and careful.

Willow huffs, as if the question itself is enough to bring her back to reality. She turns and starts back toward the StormPAR crew, putting distance between them. But Tyler, undeterred, jogs to catch up, blocking her path so she has no choice but to look at him.

"You know," he says, gentler this time, "you don't gotta do nothin' you ain't comfortable with. Javi seems like a decent enough guy—he'll get it if you back out."

She meets his eyes, her expression firm. "You don't need to be worried about me." Her voice is steady, resolute, giving him no room to argue with her. "I'll be fine."

He nods, reluctant but accepting. "Alright, then. Where you stayin' after? I'll come find you," he tells her and she reminds herself not to give in. Not yet. Just in case. "Just to talk. Let me check on you."

"No need to go out of your way," she replies, pulling a tight-lip smile and giving him a light pat on the chest. "Be careful out there, cowboy."

With that, Willow steps around him, walking off without a backward glance, leaving Tyler standing there.

She may not have told him where she'll be, but somehow, she's certain that fate will make sure he finds his way.

—AUTHOR'S NOTE

I FELT BAD LEAVING YOU ON A CLIFF HANGER SO I FINISHED THE CHAPTER. Tyler's POV is short because it's really just a repeat of the last chapter's events. he's whipped, a little obsessed, but its okay cause she is too

CHAPTER TITLE FROM BLESS THE BROKEN ROAD BY RASCAL FLATTS SO TYLER AND WILLOW CODED

shorter chapters hopefully end here because there will be more to impact; it's just the natural pauses in the action in the movie don't necessarily coincide with book action, so work with me here.

FEEDBACK ALWAYS APPRECIATED: I already had a lot of this chapter written for another version of this fic (in the original version where willow just meets tyler during the movie events), so I just reworked it to fit the new version. if you see any odd spots, let me know and I'll adjust

probably gonna chill on the updates until the weekend just because a lot of the last few chapters I've been building on the non-posted old version of the fic and this is as far as I got before I replanned and scraped it. we gettin' chapter 8 completely from scratch,

thanks for reading, as always,

kari