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He picked up a bottle of wine, two folding chairs, and quickly appeared at Chelsea's door before she could change her mind.

The attraction was instant and before Chelsea knew it, they had talked until the hour had grown very late.

Pete hugged her at the door, loathe to release the magnificent creature whom Axel had discovered.

He kissed her lightly, still drinking her in, and said, "Let me be your tour guide when you get a day off. I drive a taxi. If you promise to sit up front with me and hold my hand, I'll turn the meter off, and we can get lost - and found together."

Chelsea's mouth dropped open as she struggled for words. He stared into her eyes, straight down to the bottom of her soul, silently willing her to agree.

"Okay, it's a date and Pete, thanks for this evening." Pete replied, still holding her hand as he backed away slightly, "It's entirely my pleasure. I'm certainly glad that Axel had the good sense to greet you this evening."

She closed the door and leaned back against it, offering up a silent prayer, "Thank you, God! My life is a fairytale!"

Pete retreated into his apartment where he sat for a long time, feeding Axel treats and recalling Chealsea's laughter, carried to him on a summer breeze, which had assuredly changed his life irrevocably this evening. He leaned back in a recliner, letting newfound happiness buoy his spirit.

He had watched her unwittingly bewitch him in guileless movements; lightly swiping a windblown strand of hair from her face, her tinkling laughter at small absurdities, nothing like the women he had dated prior; all of them armed to the teeth with defensiveness and cloaked in resentment. There is a refreshing ease to being in Chelsea's company, he thought.

She was, Pete imagined, a woman who could drink champagne with executives, as easily as enjoy a soda and a hotdog at a carnival. He patted Axel affectionately as he put the bird into a cage, whispering, "You did good, old boy. Who knew you had such good taste?"

Her first week at KCTV was wildly busy. Chelsea rushed to various assignments without even enough time to stop for a burger.

Evenings were filled with purchasing appropriate clothing for television, sitting with hair and makeup artists, lighting and sound checks, reading from teleprompters, and making a mad dash from one destination to the next. She had never had a challenge quite as demanding, and she was determined to prove herself.

He had watched her come and go, waiting and hoping. He watched the phone, willing it to ring. He hadn't wanted to make her first week more stressful than it was. Pete stood, with phone in hand, and decided to wait a little longer.

Then, on a Saturday, late at night, he heard her sliding glass door open. He quickly retrieved Axel and slipped out onto his own balcony, where he sat listening quietly.

Then he heard it; a voice barely audible, just above a whisper, "Pete? Are you there?"

Pete opened his mouth to respond, but Axel beat him to it.

"Hello!"

He quickly put Axel away and went straight to Chelsea's door. She greeted him warmly and Pete could see she was beyond exhausted.

Swiftly, he folded her into his arms protectively, and she collapsed against his chest. He picked her up and carried her to bed. Kissing her lightly, and holding her troubled gaze with his own, he whispered, "Trust me." She did.

Pete peeled off her shorts and tank top, and laid down beside her, careful to keep her encircled in his embrace, and safe. He gently held her against his chest, issuing, "Close your eyes. Rest. Let me protect you tonight."

Chelsea did as he asked with tears of relief stinging her eyes. As the tension left her body, she tried to speak, but Pete wouldn't have it. "Shhh, just rest," he comforted her, stroking her face, her hair, making no move to release her, and no move to indulge his own desires.

He closed his eyes against his own riotous emotions and physical need, knowing that the last thing Chelsea needed was an assault on her senses when she was this near to breaking.

In the morning, he made breakfast, which they ate on the balcony while he quizzed her about all she endured this week.

Chelsea poured her heart out, feeling truly heard, seen, valued, and cared for. The feeling was entirely foreign to her; exhilarating and terrifying all at once.

Eventually, she broke down and related her first encounter with a tornado. She had heard many descriptions before, but absolutely nothing compared.

She explained to Pete, "I ordered the cab to stop and let me out. He gunned it instead. A brief fight ensued, with the driver calling me "a crazy lady," she ground out, making air quotes, and continued, "Finally, he slammed the brakes and let me out."

Chelsea stopped to stab an orange slice with her fork, continuing , "I leaped from the taxi to film the beast, watching it in the distance, thinking, My God! It's roiling, rotating, living evil, hellbent on death and destruction. I've never encountered anything like it in my life!

Pete studied her, across the table, watching her relive the terror of that day, and reached to hold her hand.

"I wanted to get the best video I could, but mostly I wanted to run screaming. It's the most terrifying encounter I have ever had, Pete."

She paused for a sip of coffee, grappling with her emotions, trying to get past the lump in her throat, and related, "I focused the camera, with my hands shaking violently, but I had a job to do. I quieted my grip on the camera, but misjudged distance and speed. Suddenly, it was nearly on top of me. I ran for the nearest building and took refuge with several other people caught in the storm. We huddled in the far corner of the cellar, holding hands, praying, and listening to the storm scream its'm rage, and shake the walls.

Chelsea clenched her tiny fist, fighting for composure, and told him, "There's no reasoning with a soulless beast, Pete. It's purely hellbent and nothing will stop it! That's the closest I ever want to get to a real-life monster," she finished, weeping into her shaking hands.

"Holy nightmare, Chelsea! Don't you ever risk that again," he ordered, panic stricken, and closing the gap. Pete swept her up in his arms, dragging her full length against him, saying, "The driver was right! You are a crazy lady! Just promise me, Chelsea. I know you're out to prove yourself, but that doesn't mean getting yourself killed. Promise me you'll never risk your life again!"

Chelsea didn't fight him. She curled into the safety he afforded her, whispering, "I promise, Pete. Honest. I'll get a telephoto lens. I won't have to get that close next time."

He crushed her to his hard frame, scolding her, "We need to have a serious talk about where your commitment to excellence ends, and your commitment to saving your own skin begins."

He tried to release her just long enough to look into her eyes, but he couldn't do it. The harrowing tale of nearly losing her made him lock her into his embrace.

Pete knew exactly what she needed. He had been without safety and succor, often enough that he knew exactly how to show up for her, even though he couldn't bear the thought of there being a next time.

He wasn't sure whether to commend her bravery, or turn her over his knee, and punish her for taking the risk. He thought, You will likely be the death of me but, at least I'll die a happy man. And then decided, There will be time for that later, opting just to hold her for as long as he could.

Chelsea had never received a gift of this magnitude before. It was her own, personal miracle, and she suddenly realized that she loved him; wholly, completely, desperately, thinking, head over, to the depths of my soul, no turning back love. She was startled, and winded by the enormity of it.

"I was planning to wait for a more appropriate time to ask you this," he whispered, "but it won't wait now. You need a stabilizing force in your life, and I need you in mine."

He stopped, tilting her chin up to lock eyes with her, "Marry me, Chelsea. I know it's sudden, but I'll be the best decision you've ever made. Marry me."

Pete paused, looking into her eyes, and straight down to the bottom of her soul. He held his breath, willing her to say the answer he wanted.

Chelsea pulled away slightly, and, taking both his hands in her own, she looked up at him, asking, "When?"

He heaved a visible sigh of relief, and smiled brightly, genuinely happy and excited for the future, replying, "Tomorrow looks like a Chelsea morning! We can make the arrangements today. Yes?"

With her eyes now smoldering with desire, and tugging him in the direction of the bedroom, she answered, "Yes, my love. Yes, now let's go celebrate."

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