Thunderstorms, T-Rex, and Tequila

by Mackenzie L.

*Disclaimer: I do not own Jurassic World, or any part of the Jurassic Park franchise.

Chapter One: Glorified Raptor Whisperer

He wasn't scoping her out, he was just looking. Just appreciating.

He was allowed to appreciate a woman.

It happened all the time. There were lots of pretty women on islands. Lots of excuses for them to expose their skin and wear their hair up. But this woman drew his attention for an entirely different reason.

She was the only woman not exposing skin, and not wearing her hair up.

Her red hair was short — not the boyish kind of short he usually liked on women. It was feminine and overly fashionable, like some sort of runway model. She had a creamy complexion and childish features, but those features were disguised by too much makeup. Her eyes were downcast, framed by thick lashes and smoky shadow. Her lips were overdrawn with deep mauve lipstick and seemed forcefully pursed to stage extreme concentration so no one would bother her.

She had her nose in the book. The one by Alan Grant. The one everyone here had read a thousand times. She was someone of importance — he could tell by the poised way she sat in her chair, far away from the rest of the crowd, on a balcony that seemed to have no visible access point.

She was one attractive bitch. And she most certainly had a stick up her ass.

Owen didn't have the nerve to approach her.

And thank the Lord he didn't do it, because he was formally introduced to her the very next day. In a board meeting.

Claire Dearing, ops manager. They shook hands before the meeting began, and he sat at the furthest point from her at the long rectangular table. He watched her eyes move from person to person as her coworkers spoke. She was overly attentive and way too uptight. His first impression of her was spot on.

Her voice was annoying at first, but after an hour of cynical old men talking, Owen became excited each time he got to hear her interject. Even though all she did was spew statistics, it was still kind of sexy.

And he kept thinking, how did such a young woman become so prolific in such a short period of time? How did she climb her way to the top of this multi-trillion dollar pile of nerds? How?

She must have been sleeping with one of these suits.

Oddly enough, Owen's theory didn't curb his interest in Claire Dearing. In fact, it encouraged him to pursue her like a T-Rex on a lost sheep.

This time he wasn't going to be intimidated. He was going to corner her.

Kindly, of course.

-o-0-o-

Claire wasn't easily impressed. It took a lot to amaze her, especially after all the accomplishments she'd helped forge here at Jurassic World. She had supervised for an entire year while an innovative team of geniuses broke countless records and paved the way for future genetic science.

She was not a social person, which wasn't surprising to many. She knew everyone in this business had their quirks, but somehow they all managed to have social lives outside of their work.

Hell, this kind of work was all consuming. This was life-changing, world-altering, magical work. But some of her best players all still wanted to watch sports games and drink beer and play videogames after their shift was over. Even some of the women had children of their own. They would call off on the day of an important corporate visit to plan out their son's fifth birthday party. It didn't make any sense to Claire, a classic workaholic, how these people could be so cavalier about the work they did in this park. Still, there was that little beetle on her back called Human Resources. And she didn't dare bite the hand that fed her.

Work was her life. Some people called it sad, but she didn't see it that way. Numbers crunching made her happy. Watching those line graphs sweep off the chart made her high. Those Monday night conference calls with Masrani made her feel like the most important woman on earth. She didn't have to defend herself for being engrossed in her job. It was a blessing, not a curse.

There was only one person on the whole island who had ever challenged her feelings on the matter. And that person was Owen Grady.

"Saw you reading Grant's book yesterday."

She whirled around in response to the unfamiliar man's voice behind her. He was the last person left in the board room. In fact it looked as if he'd lingered purposefully so as to trap her in a conversation before she could file out with the others.

"Excuse me?"

"High noon. You. Sitting at a table, alone, hovering above everyone else." He waved one hand over his head as he spoke.

"Oh." She tilted her head, waiting for the memory to come back to her. "You were in the Innovation Center the other day?"

He shrugged. "I can appreciate all your nice, shiny holographs as much as the next kid."

All she did was nod, bemused.

"How 'bout you? This place must make you feel like a kid again, huh? No wonder you love your job so much."

Claire narrowed her eyes, skeptical of what sounded like a loaded question. Surely he was trying to trip her up somehow.

"Well, I'm more focused on the operations end of things, as you know. I don't have much time to appreciate the pretty lights, Mister...?"

"What do they pay you?"

Her eyes nearly popped out in shock. "I beg your pardon!"

He continued casually, as if he hadn't just offended her to the point of speechlessness. "I'm just curious. I know it's a personal question, but since we're alone—"

"I am not sharing my salary with you—"

"Owen," he supplied with a grin.

"Owen."

"Yeah, Owen Grady. I'm pretty important around here, too."

Claire crossed her arms, feeling no more need to use nice manners around this man. "So I suppose you don't mind me asking how much you make?"

"I make a lot of things. Money's not really the most impressive thing on the list, though," he said with a cheeky wink.

Somehow feeling both amused and offended, she simply shook her head at him. "Right."

"I knew it was possible!" he said victoriously.

"What?"

"Making you smile."

She actually saw a glint of compassion in his eyes at that moment, which caught her off guard.

"Who ever said it wasn't?" she demanded.

"No one had to tell me. Watching you in that meeting was torture. Does anyone actually enjoy these things?"

"I happen to find them very enjoyable, and very interesting," she said proudly. "Of course, I pay attention."

"I paid attention," he mumbled grumpily back at her.

"Oh, really?" With one hand she reached for the table and snapped up the paper he'd tried to hide from the rest of the attendees. "Your little dinosaur doodles on this syllabus say otherwise."

Owen's jaw dropped in mock offense as he snatched the paper back from her. "That's Mikey the Marshosaurus. Don't make fun of him."

Claire scoffed. "You really are a child, aren't you?"

"No, in fact I am a man." She didn't like the suggestive tone his voice had taken as he inspected himself from the chest down. "I'd hope a woman with a PhD could make that distinction." He met her eyes with a winning smirk, and her heart pounced in blissful fright.

She steeled herself with a look of haughty distaste. "Mr. Grady, you are nothing more than a glorified raptor whisperer."

"Ouch." He furrowed his eyebrows, looking hurt in an entirely exaggerated way. "I'll have to take you into our paddock sometime. You may regret saying that."

"I rarely regret anything," she assured him as she turned on her heel, tucked her binder under her arm, and prepared to leave the room.

"I know one thing you'll definitely regret." She could hear the gleeful smile in his voice without even turning around.

She made the mistake of asking, "What's that?"

"Saying 'no' when I invite you to dinner next Friday night."

She didn't want to do it, but she had to turn around.

"You can't be serious."

He kept an admirably straight face. "I'd like to point out that I am wearing a suit. This may be the most serious I've ever been in my adult life."

"You're asking me out?" she repeated, still shocked at the nerve this man had, having only just met her through a business meeting an hour prior.

"Yeah... and I'm wearing a suit." He adjusted his lapels and made a comically seductive pouty face, as if this would somehow entice her.

She'd be damned if it actually did.

All she could do was stare at him, this unfortunately attractive man who never wore suits and doodled during important meetings. The intensity of his eye contact was downright obscene.

"Come on. I'll let you pick the restaurant, and I'll pay." He was really turning on the charm now. "Even though you make more than me."

Claire would never understand how ten combined years of ivy league and grad school couldn't prepare her for this moment.

And even more, she'd never believe that over half a million dollars worth of education didn't keep her from saying 'yes.'