“And if it doesn’t work out?” He shrugs. “Then it doesn’t work out. But if you don’t chase the storm, you’ll never know if you’ll catch it or not.” I smile at his analogy. “And you?” “Me, what?” “Are you going to chase your storm?” A devilish smile appears on his lips, and he tips the brim of his cowboy hat. “He’s chasing me, darlin’, but I think I’ll let myself be caught.”
