Книга - Small-Town Bachelor

Small-Town Bachelor
Jill Kemerer


A Place to Call HomeWhen Reed Hamilton arrives in Lake Endwell for a family wedding, he expects to do his part as best man then head back to the big city. But when a a tornado postpones the wedding, the town is in shambles and Reed is injured. Thankfully maid of honor Claire Sheffield offers him one of her cottages to recuperate in. Dedicated to her family and her dream job at the zoo, Claire is all about roots. She's this city slicker's opposite, yet as they help the town rebuild, Reed is captivated by her stunning looks and caring ways. He can't ask Claire to leave the life she loves for him, but he also can't imagine ever leaving her behind…When Reed Hamilton arrives in Lake Endwell for a family wedding, he expects to do his part as best man then head back to the big city. But when a tornado postpones the wedding, the town is in shambles and Reed is injured. Thankfully maid of honor Claire Sheffield offers him one of her cottages to recuperate in. Dedicated to her family and her dream job at the zoo, Claire is all about roots. She's this city slicker's opposite, yet as they help the town rebuild, Reed is captivated by her stunning looks and caring ways. He can't ask Claire to leave the life she loves for him, but he also can't imagine ever leaving her behind…







A Place to Call Home

When Reed Hamilton arrives in Lake Endwell for a family wedding, he expects to do his part as best man then head back to the big city. But when a a tornado postpones the wedding, the town is in shambles and Reed is injured. Thankfully maid of honor Claire Sheffield offers him one of her cottages to recuperate in. Dedicated to her family and her dream job at the zoo, Claire is all about roots. She’s this city slicker’s opposite, yet as they help the town rebuild, Reed is captivated by her stunning looks and caring ways. He can’t ask Claire to leave the life she loves for him, but he also can’t imagine ever leaving her behind…


“My life’s purpose is here,” Claire said.

“What is it?” Reed asked. “Your life’s purpose?” He couldn’t help himself. Did he have one of those?

Claire’s face brightened. “I’ve always been the one my brothers and sisters lean on for support. I didn’t fully appreciate it until I left.” She shrugged. “Besides, I’ve said it before, I want a man to put me first.”

“What category would you put me in?”

A genuine smile spread across her face. “Not selfish. Not one bit. You’ve done so much to help our town. We’re all grateful. I’m grateful.”

“But?”

Claire glanced away, a wistful expression on her face. “But it’s taken years for a position at the zoo to become available. And I want to care for the otters every day. You’re leaving soon.”

He nodded, his heart strangely heavy. Everything she said was true. Her honesty pressed against his chest, though. Made him want to reveal more. “I’m leaving because I’m good at my job. I’m not good at the other stuff.”

“What other stuff?”

“Getting close.”

“Why do you say that?” she asked.

He stared at the tree line. There was so much about him she didn’t know.


JILL KEMERER writes novels with love, humor and faith. Besides spoiling her mini dachshund and keeping up with her busy kids, Jill reads stacks of books, lives for her morning coffee and gushes over fluffy animals. She resides in Ohio with her husband and two children. Jill loves connecting with readers, so please visit her website, jillkemerer.com (http://jillkemerer.com), or contact her at PO Box 2802, Whitehouse, OH 43571.


Small-Town

Bachelor

Jill Kemerer






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


God sets the lonely in families,

He leads out the prisoners with singing;

but the rebellious live in a sun-scorched land.

—Psalms 68:6


To my husband, Scott. You’re my champion,

my encourager, my love. And to Mom, Dad

and Sarah for a lifetime of love and support.


Contents

Cover (#ucde9e673-7d80-5d7c-b027-9bace95a77fd)

Back Cover Text (#u1b631617-4eb7-5d5e-a9e5-c65ef8f365f3)

Introduction (#u317724fe-20ee-51de-ad59-f483901af87f)

About the Author (#u66ad0206-9505-5282-884c-626db4597338)

Title Page (#u857c8d47-1340-554c-904d-92008e163c85)

Bible Verse (#u1467d325-17ac-5016-9146-5729f708fa66)

Dedication (#u4f3c49f1-9b13-52be-8eb5-778552912507)

Chapter One (#ulink_53d21c68-ef02-5dbf-b6f2-8d4b1adc4959)

Chapter Two (#ulink_82e5c9ba-7f8b-5ba4-bb59-37b0ca3b05c6)

Chapter Three (#ulink_f388f8d1-6146-5a98-ac83-17ec7cacfe58)

Chapter Four (#ulink_4aef704d-fecb-5312-a720-d0c558c46bc8)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Dear Reader (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


Chapter One (#ulink_cb3886db-8970-5eec-9ca0-38438116ebe9)

Weddings. Months of buildup, CIA levels of planning, and worth every second if it made her sister happy.

Claire Sheffield scraped a long silver ribbon over the edge of the scissors and admired the resulting curl. Rain splashed against the windows of Uncle Joe’s Restaurant. Almost midnight and growing windy. Hopefully, the wedding wouldn’t be plagued with bad weather tomorrow. Severe storms were common in southern Michigan, especially in mid-June. At least the reception would be here, indoors, where nothing could touch the bridal party. A slight shift in the air created a frenzy of flubbing noises in the corner where seventy-five more balloons waited to be tied into bunches.

White linens draped the tables, tall hurricane vases contained fresh pillars ready to be lit and party favors tucked in miniature silver boxes were swathed in pink ribbons. To round out the decor, blush-colored roses waited in the refrigerator.

Claire had decorated the rustic waterfront restaurant for family weddings twice before, though neither of her brothers’ marriages had lasted. And what about her own disastrous try at love? Following Justin to another state had cost Claire the job of a lifetime. Here it was, five years later, and she finally had another chance to be a veterinarian technician at the zoo. She’d never throw away the opportunity again. Certainly not for a guy.

But this wedding wasn’t about Claire. It was about her baby sister. Was Libby ready for marriage?

The door opened, letting in a blast of wind, rain and the best man...Reed Hamilton, looking as if he just stepped out of the shower.

Whoa! He was hot enough to melt the ice sculpture sitting on the second shelf of the walk-in freezer.

Reed ran his hand over his head, his cropped brown hair standing in little spikes as water dripped down the sides of his cheekbones to his square jaw. He had a natural ease about him, and the way he moved? Athletic. The scent of rain and woods trailed him inside. Sometime between the rehearsal dinner and now, he’d lost the tie, leaving his dress shirt open at the collar.

His tawny brown eyes held her gaze a touch too long before he cleared his throat. “The weather’s getting bad. Libby was worried you wouldn’t have a ride.”

Reed was offering her a ride home?

Made sense, since he was staying next door in Granddad’s empty cottage all weekend. “Thanks. Ten more minutes and I would have called one of my brothers.”

Thunder cracked. She slapped her palm over her thumping chest. Was the sky turning a different color? Or did she imagine the olive tint to the darkness?

Reed shoved his hands in his pockets and perused the space. “How much do you have left to do here?”

“A few more bunches to hang.”

“Let me help.” He nodded to the table where she’d set spools of ribbons, tape, scissors, markers and various other essentials.

A ride home and an offer to help? Her brothers avoided anything that involved decorating, which explained the bare walls and worn furniture in their house.

Lightning lit the sky, and the low wail of sirens commenced.

Sirens meant one thing.

Tornado.

The slender strings slipped through her fingers. Claire hurried down the ladder. “We have to find cover.” Where was the safest place for them to go?

“Come on.” Reed propelled her toward the door leading to the kitchen. “Is there a basement? A cellar?”

“No.” The hair at the nape of her neck rose. She couldn’t think of a worse place to face a tornado. Her eyes blinked uncontrollably until Reed pressed his hand against her lower back.

“Hey, it’s going to be okay.” His calm tone steadied her. “But we need to get out of this room.”

“You’re right.” She raced ahead of him. “The staff bathroom—cement blocks and no windows. It’s our best option.”

She plunged through the hall, past the bank of ovens, the pantry and the walk-in refrigerator. Reed followed her into the large bathroom.

“Get on the floor—” But whatever he said next ripped from his mouth as the walls shook.

She fell to her knees. Hunched over. Tried to get as small as possible.

Please, God, protect us!

The wind screeched, shaking the structure as if it were a cardboard box. Her knees dug into the cold, hard tiles. Reed flung his arm over her shoulders, shielding her body with his.

“Cover your head,” he yelled. The storm roared like a freight train.

Her teeth chattered, her arms shook and terror such as she’d never known consumed her. A wrenching sound could only be the roof. Lord, please, Lord, please... Even with the protection of Reed’s body, rain, sticks and stones pelted her. A tree groaned, toppling over them and crashing onto the far wall. Reed’s muscles tensed as he rolled to the side. Her experience treating injured animals alerted her he’d been hurt.

“Reed?” she shouted. “Are you okay? Reed?”

He squeezed her arm—praise the Lord!

An eternity passed. Claire lay facedown on the floor while the chaos continued.

The commotion died to a thunderstorm. She didn’t move, didn’t dare to, but she needed to assess the situation. Dread and fear tangled in her chest. What would she find?

“Reed?” Her stomach heaved. Keep it together, Claire. She gulped in a deep breath. “How badly are you hurt?”

“My leg,” he said, his voice strained.

“Which leg?”

He groaned.

“Shh...don’t move. I’ll try to get this branch off you. Sit still.” Her calm tone didn’t match the reckless tempo of her heartbeat.

“I’m okay...are you?” His voice grew faint. “...need to get you out of here. Not safe...”

“I’m fine.” A flash of lightning froze the scene before her like an eerie photo. The top of the tree had demolished the door. She gaped at the view beyond it. Where was the hallway? Rubble, at least five feet high, piled beyond the bathroom. They couldn’t get out if they tried. And the rain continued to fall.

The restaurant...the wedding...destroyed.

Her breathing came in quick bursts. She wasn’t prepared for this. Her cell phone was in her purse—out in the dining area. No towels, no first aid kit, not even a flashlight. She could make out shapes, but without light, she couldn’t gauge how badly Reed was injured.

Wiping away the rain dripping into her eyes, she inhaled for three counts. She worked fifty hours a week as a vet tech, assessing injured animals. She could do this!

“Hold still.” Claire focused on Reed. “I’m going to examine you. I know you’re hurt, so promise me you won’t move.”

His right calf and ankle had swollen considerably—a broken leg, she guessed—but no bones protruded. She gathered branches and leaves into a mound near his foot.

“I’m going to lift your leg. Gently. Brace yourself.” With both hands she held his calf, setting it on the makeshift pile. She crawled back, brushing debris out of her way, and sat on the floor with her back against the wall. Lifting Reed’s head, she placed it on her legs.

“You don’t have to—” he said, his voice taut.

“Save your strength.” She tried to think of anything else she could do. He needed a doctor, X-rays and painkillers. If only she had her cell phone. Why hadn’t she thought to grab it? Maybe Reed had his. Hope rose. “Do you have your cell phone?”

“The car.” A spasm seized his body. Claire wanted to shake her fist at the sky.

How long would they be trapped? Was her family okay? The thought of losing any of her loved ones made her stomach roil. Oh! What about the otters? Her sweet rescue otter babies. The forecast called for rain, so she’d left the cellar doors open, but would they know to go down there? And did they have time?

The mounting worries quickened her pulse until her body threatened to explode with pent-up energy.

God, I’m giving this to You.

Her tension lowered a notch. She had to believe everyone survived, including the otters. Her loved ones surely took refuge, and the otter twins would continue to be healthy and happy until they moved to the zoo later this summer.

Reed shifted, a hiss escaping his lips. Right now she had to concentrate on him. She stroked his hair the way she used to stroke Libby’s when she was sick.

He had saved her. By all rights, she should have been the one pinned under the tree. Or worse. If he had come ten minutes later, she would have had to survive this alone.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

She would make this up to Reed. Somehow.

* * *

Reed blinked repeatedly. Where was he? A blurry white ceiling and fluorescent lights stung his eyes. Beep. What was that smell? Rubbing alcohol? Astringent? It burned his nose. Beep.

He attempted to sit, but the tubes in his arm forced him back into the pillow. A cast encased his right leg from his foot to his knee. A white sheet covered the rest of him.

Last night dashed back. From the drive to Lake Endwell for Jake and Libby’s rehearsal dinner, to his late appearance at the restaurant to take Claire home.

Claire.

Medium height, almost-black hair skimming her shoulders, slim and pretty. Very pretty. She had unusual eyes—a ring of indigo surrounded the palest blue—and a sweet smile. The kind of smile a guy could let go to his head, if he was the type to consider having a wife and family. Which he wasn’t. Not even close.

Claire had taken care of him for hours in the dark. She had a soothing way about her, had handled the disaster calmly and kept up a steady stream of chatter until her dad found them and called an ambulance.

If Reed had to be trapped half the night with a broken leg and rain pouring through a gaping hole in the ceiling and a tree on top of him, he was glad he’d been with Claire.

He frowned. Why was he thinking about her in that way?

She lived in Lake Endwell. The one place he avoided. His dad, stepmother and half brother, Jake, lived here and were just fine without him in the picture. The three of them had moved to Lake Endwell after Reed graduated from high school, and this was the first time Reed had visited in years. Chicago provided a necessary two-hour buffer. Barrier? Whatever. It all added up to the same thing—he didn’t fit with them. Or with families in general. He’d ruined two already.

Reed had no clue how to make a relationship—any relationship—last.

“You’re awake.” Barbara, his stepmother, paused in the doorway, her lips not quite committing to a tremulous smile. Her short black hair skimmed her chin, and she wore a dark green sweater set with her ever-present pearls. Dressed up even after a tornado. She strode to his side and poured water into a small plastic cup. “Sip some of this. You must be thirsty. Do you want me to hold it for you?”

He should have known she’d be here, trying to play Florence Nightingale with him. Why she continued to make an effort, he didn’t know. It wasn’t as though he deserved her kindness. He’d always been cordial, but he preferred to keep a distance. Didn’t want her poking and prying and getting close. Better that way.

He reached for the cup, grimacing when his trembling fingers spilled it.

“Let me.” She placed it against his lips.

He dutifully took a sip. “Thanks.” It came out more a croak than a word. His neck stiffened trying to hold his head up. “Claire?”

“She has a black eye and a few nasty scratches.”

His head sank into the pillow. Why a stranger—Claire, of all people—brought out his dormant protective side, he didn’t know, but last night he hadn’t liked the thought of her walking home in the rain, nor did he like the thought of her with a black eye now. “What about Jake? Is he all right?”

“He’s fine too. Rode out the storm in Dale’s basement with Libby. I’ll go get your father.” She patted his hand and left the room.

Jake was okay. Thank You, God. Reed loved the kid—not that a twenty-three-year-old could be called a kid. A twinge of guilt prodded. When Jake asked him to be the best man, Reed had considered turning down the offer. What kind of big brother was he?

“How are you?” Dad shuffled in with his hands in his pockets. He didn’t sit, just stood there shifting from one foot to the other. He nodded to the cast. “Rough getup.”

Tension crackled, and a fissure of cool air rushed over Reed’s skin, raising the hair on his arms. “Yeah.”

A knock at the door startled them. Staring at a clipboard, a doctor entered the room and strolled to the bed. “Ah, I see you’re awake.”

“I’ll wait outside.” The creases in Dad’s forehead deepened.

“Wait, Dad, don’t—” But he disappeared out the door. What had Reed expected? The man had made an art out of slipping away. Reed’s fingernails cut into his palms.

“How are you feeling? Tell me your pain level on a scale of one to ten.” The doctor pushed a button, raising Reed’s bed to a seated position, and checked him over.

“Four, I guess. I’m more stiff than sore.”

“Good. Good. How is your leg?”

“You tell me.”

The doctor scanned his notes, making a clicking sound with his tongue. “Broken tib-fib. Snapped in two places—the right tibia and fibula. We inserted a pin to hold the broken ends together, and we didn’t have any complications. We’ll be keeping a close eye on it with X-rays over the upcoming weeks, but I believe you’ll make a full recovery.”

Reed’s face must have betrayed his shock, because the doctor lowered his clipboard. “It could have been much worse. You’re fortunate you had someone there to elevate it and keep it stable all those hours.”

Reed agreed. Without Claire’s help, he would be in much worse shape.

“The cast.” Reed dipped his chin to indicate his leg. “How long will I have to wear it?”

“Plan on a minimum of six weeks.”

Six weeks?

“No other injuries?” Reed asked. “Only the broken—what did you call it?”

“Tib-fib. You broke your leg. We’ll keep you here overnight. In the meantime, I want you to give some thought to how you’re going to manage at home. Do you have anyone who can help you get around?”

“I’ll be fine.” He’d figure it out. People got around in casts all the time. It wouldn’t be that big a deal.

But what about Alaska? In all the chaos, he’d forgotten his monthlong trip to the last American frontier. The timing had been perfect. Do his duty as best man in Jake’s wedding, squeal the tires out of Lake Endwell Sunday morning and drive across the upper states until he reached Bellingham, Washington. From there, he’d hop on a ferry for whale watching and spend the rest of the month exploring Alaska. Give him time to breathe before tackling his duties as the new vice president of Rockbend Construction. Eight years of intense work and he’d finally been offered the VP title he coveted. Everything had fallen into place.

Until this.

He swallowed the copper taste of disappointment. Why had God allowed this to happen? Jake’s wedding ruined. A broken leg the day before Reed’s Alaskan adventure.

What now? He couldn’t return to Chicago. An image of the busy sidewalks he navigated seared into his mind—it was hard enough getting around the city on two legs, let alone on one. And he didn’t have anyone in Chicago who could help.

He’d just have to change his daily routine and walk less, drive more.

The doctor pulled out a stool and wheeled next to the bed. “The tibia supports the body’s weight. Avoid putting any pressure on the leg for several weeks. We’ll start you in a wheelchair, check the X-rays and if it’s healing, we’ll okay crutches. You’ll still have to stay off this leg, though. Don’t plan on driving until the cast is off.”

Wheelchair?

No driving?

As if that was going to happen. He wouldn’t bother telling the doc he had no intention of following his instructions. A wheelchair would never work in his high-rise apartment.

A sound startled him. Barbara hovered in the doorway, raised her eyebrows and fingered her pearls. “Doctor, would it be okay for Reed to have some lunch? He hasn’t eaten since yesterday.”

“Of course.” The doctor rose. “If you have any questions, I’ll be in later to check on you. And tell the nurse if you’re experiencing any pain.”

He was experiencing pain all right—the giant pain in the rear this injury had forced on him.

“I’ll tell the nurse you’re ready for some food.” Barbara hesitated. “Or would you like us to bring something? Roger and I will gladly go to the cafeteria.”

Yeah, Dad would gladly go to the cafeteria to avoid spending time with him. And Barbara would flutter around and make the atmosphere even more charged. If he could go back to sleep and not wake up until his leg was functioning...

“That’s okay.” Reed gave her a tight smile. “I’ll eat whatever the nurse brings.”

“Are you sure? I can find something specific, maybe lasagna? You still like Italian food, right? Or a sub sandwich? Ham, turkey, roast beef. Chips. A pop—”

Lord, help me out. A little patience? “I’m not very hungry. Anything is fine.”

“You look like you’re not feeling well. Is your leg hurting? I’ll send your dad back in while I find a nurse.” She scurried out, leaving him alone, to his relief.

A minute later, Dad appeared, as uneasy as earlier. “Did the...uh...doctor fill you in on—” he waved his hand at Reed’s leg “—everything?”

Reed nodded.

“He told us you would need some help. Uh...I would offer you a room, but...”

Disappointment flooded him, but Reed didn’t show it, wouldn’t let Dad see how much his dismissal still hurt. Would they ever get past the strain in their relationship? “I got it covered.”

He brightened. “We weren’t sure what to do. The split-level would be hard to navigate in your...um...condition. The wheelchair, you know.”

The split-level would be hard to navigate, but Reed didn’t doubt the real reason his dad didn’t want him around. They hadn’t been relaxed in each other’s presence in over twenty years. The death of Reed’s mother still tore them apart.

“Like I said.” Reed attempted to sit up. “Don’t worry about it.”

Dad stood there, swaying slightly, as if he wanted to say something. Finally, he turned to go. “I’d better go see what’s keeping Barbara.”

Yes. He’d better go to Barbara. He’d been pulling that move for as long as Reed could remember.

Alone once more, Reed closed his eyes. Maybe he could book a flight back home tomorrow. But what about his truck? He’d driven into Lake Endwell with all his gear for the trip.

“Knock, knock.” Claire smiled from the doorway, interrupting his thoughts.

Reed grinned, waving her inside. She eased into the chair next to his bed. His smile faded at her swollen face, her bandaged hand and the scratches on her bare arms. “Does your eye hurt?”

“Not really.” She lifted her hand wrapped in gauze. “A few scrapes. Nothing a little time won’t mend. The bigger question is how are you doing?”

He longed to touch her cheek, to thank her for taking care of him all those hours while they waited for rescue, but caution prevented the words from spilling. This intrigue couldn’t be explored. Not with her, the one with the enormous family. The one who lived here. No matter how careful he was or how hard he tried to understand family dynamics, he failed. Every time.

Best to keep things light. Reed pointed to his cast. “Like my new look? Admit it—you’re jealous.”

Her laugh tinkled, did something weird to his pulse. “Insanely jealous. Want me to sign it for you?” Claire scooted forward a few inches.

“Of course. I saved you a big spot. There. By my knee.” He pointed to his leg. “Need a Sharpie?”

“Only if it’s purple. I’m surprised you didn’t go with a colored cast. Fluorescent pink would have made you the envy of all the girls.”

His lips twitched. “If I had known I could choose a color, I would have.”

“Maybe next time.”

“There won’t be a next time.”

“Don’t be so sure,” she said. “You’ll probably get a new cast in two or three weeks.”

“What do you mean?” He shifted, flinching as his foot bumped the bed rail.

“Your leg will shrink, and this cast won’t fit. Plus, the doctors check your progress often. Don’t get too attached to your current one.”

“And here I was going to name it. Way to ruin it for me. How do you know so much about this anyway?”

“I have three brothers. In and out of the hospital all the time growing up. I’m also a vet tech.”

Her brothers had been at the rehearsal dinner. They seemed like fun guys. “What’s a vet tech? Something with cats, dogs and computers?”

“Something like that, minus the computers. I’m a veterinary technician at a local clinic now.”

“Is it temporary or something?”

Pink tinted her cheeks. “No, it’s permanent, but ever since I can remember, I’ve wanted to work for the zoo. I’ve volunteered there for years. A position is opening up later this summer.”

“Why don’t you work there already?”

She averted her eyes. “I had a chance once. But I turned it down. I won’t again.” She picked at the edge of the gauze on her hand. “Jobs are hard to come by at our zoo. They don’t have a large budget, and when they hire someone, the person tends to stay.”

He shrugged. “Work for a different zoo, then.”

Her blank stare bored into him for a solid three seconds. Why was she looking at him as if he’d turned green?

“What?” he asked. “What did I say?”

“There aren’t any other zoos around here.”

“So? Move.”

“Nope.” She brushed her hands together in a dismissive motion. “Did that once. Lost my dream job and my heart in one fell swoop. I’m staying here, in Lake Endwell, where I belong. But hey, I didn’t come in here to bore you with my life story.”

Boring? Claire? Not possible. There had to be more behind her tale. One he wanted to hear someday.

“What’s next?” she asked. “I mean, what happens now with your leg and all?”

What was next? Dinner, a movie, a good-night kiss? What was it about her that mellowed him? Brought out his playful side?

Her mention of losing her heart must have jarred his brain. Talk about bad timing for getting the urge to flirt. Maybe the painkillers were messing with his head.

“I was supposed to be off to Alaska. Looks like I’m heading back to Chicago instead.”

“Alaska?” Her voice rose on the last syllable. “Why?”

He sighed. It rankled—having to cancel the trip. “I always wanted to explore the wilderness. Get back to nature for a month. Ride the ferries. See whales. Fish.”

“I’m sorry, Reed.” She did look sorry. “Sounds like something you’ve been planning for a long time.”

“Yeah. Well, what do you do?”

Neither spoke as muffled conversations of doctors and nurses in the hallway and beeping sounds filtered through the room. Then she perked up.

“You can stay here. We have wilderness—well, a lake anyway. And Granddad’s cottage is handicap accessible. You can fish off the end of the dock.”

He didn’t mean to grimace, but staying in Lake Endwell? In close proximity to Dad and Barbara? “I’ll take my chances in Chicago.”

She scolded him with her stare. How did women do that? “You’re going to be in a lot of pain. Do you have anyone who can take care of you?”

“I don’t need anyone taking care of me.”

“Men,” she muttered. “Listen, there’s no way the doctor is going to let you get on a plane for at least a week. You can ride it out in this noisy hospital room or relax in a beautiful cabin on the lake. Seems like an easy choice to me.”

She had a point. He waved to his leg. “I can’t sit around here forever.”

“No one said anything about forever. Just until you get back on your feet. Literally.”

He chuckled. Beautiful and funny? Killer combination.

Maybe staying in a cottage on the lake wasn’t such a bad consolation prize. And why worry about being around Dad and Barbara? They would avoid him as usual.

Wouldn’t they?

There was a chance—a slight chance—for him and Dad to work through their problems. If not, it didn’t matter. Reed could spend more time with Jake. He missed him.

“Guess it wouldn’t hurt.” He shrugged. “It’s not like they’re expecting me at work.”

“See?” She beamed. “There you go. What do you do anyway?”

“Commercial construction. Until yesterday, I was the senior project manager, but they’re promoting me to vice president. I’ll take over mid-July when the current VP retires.”

“Wow!” Her whole face lit up. “Vice president. Congratulations. And you work in construction? Lake Endwell could sure use some help with that. I guess the town was hit pretty hard.”

Main Street of Lake Endwell stuck in his head. The historic brick storefronts, bright red and navy awnings, flowers planted everywhere. Had the twister demolished the village? Would be a shame. He’d always had a soft spot for picturesque American towns. But helping them rebuild might give him something to do other than sitting around staring at his cast. “Did your house get damaged?”

“I don’t think so. Trees are still blocking my road, but the reports sound good so far.” Her chipper tone didn’t mask the anxiety in her eyes. Tendrils from her ponytail wrapped around her neck. “If you stay for a while, we’ll be neighbors, so I’ll make sure you’re fed. Wait—let me rephrase that—I’ll bring over Aunt Sally’s delicious food. You don’t want me to cook.”

He laughed but frowned inside. Was she this generous with everyone? This trusting? They’d only met a few hours ago, and she was already treating him like...one of the family.

“You don’t even know me,” Reed said.

“What are you talking about?” Her nose scrunched as she waved her hand. “You’re Jake’s brother. You’re family.”

His hunch was right. The fact that she’d tossed him into that category sobered him more than a bucket of ice water to the face.

“You’re probably tired. I’ll let you get some sleep.” She covered his hand with hers. “Thanks again, for being there during the tornado, for protecting me.”

He slid his hand out from under hers. “I didn’t do much.”

“Didn’t do much?” she said. “I could have—”

“It was nothing.” Too abrupt, his tone, but he couldn’t help it.

“Whatever you say, Reed.” And she padded out of the room.

Yes, if he was staying in Lake Endwell, he needed a powerful distraction from his pretty neighbor.

His experience with disaster relief provided the perfect excuse. There would be too much work for the local builders to complete by themselves. He’d make calls to find the best construction crews in the surrounding counties and help get the rebuilding efforts started. But as soon as the doctor cleared him, Reed was hightailing it back to Chicago.


Chapter Two (#ulink_b9d38dd7-5e38-5594-ba90-b2924bef5b07)

Exhaustion turned her legs to sandbags. As soon as she left Reed’s room, Claire returned to the hospital’s main waiting area and craned her neck to spot her dad. Assured Reed would be okay, she wanted nothing more than to go home and make sure the otters were safe. She’d go on foot if necessary.

“Oh, honey, you’re fortunate you survived.” Aunt Sally’s bleach-blond hair bounced and her disco-ball earrings bobbed like fishing lures on the lake. “I don’t know how either of you made it out without more severe injuries. Joe called. He said the restaurant is a wreck. The dining hall’s intact, but the back rooms are destroyed. I’m so glad you’re okay.” She embraced Claire again. “You’re going to fall over if you don’t park it.”

“Where’s Dad?” Claire hugged her arms into her abdomen. “I’ve got to get home.”

“I’ll find him. You sit.”

Claire collapsed in the chair. Her other family members clutched foam coffee cups and chatted in clusters, filling the space. To see Tommy, Bryan, Sam, Libby and everyone else alive and healthy after the awful night—it humbled her. Thank You, Lord, for protecting everyone I love.

“Your face looks terrible.” Libby took the chair next to Claire. Her long blond hair hadn’t been brushed, and her eyes were red rimmed from crying. “Aren’t you supposed to have this ice pack on it?”

“It’s nothing. I’m more worried about you. How are you holding up?” Claire accepted the ice pack from Libby and pressed it to her cheek, flinching when the cold stung her bruise. “I’m sorry about the wedding. We’ll get it all planned and perfect again.”

“I’m just glad you’re alive.”

“Me too.”

“When I think about the restaurant and everything ruined... We should be at the church right now.” A stream of tears gushed down Libby’s cheeks, and Claire pulled her close, rubbing her back. Jake came over and took Libby in his arms. Claire shot him a grateful smile, struck at the similarities between him and Reed. Both hovered around six feet tall and shared a muscular build. Libby took a tissue from Aunt Sally while Jake checked his watch.

“Man, I feel so bad for Reed.” Jake sighed. “He gets into town and this happens. And he was supposed to leave for Alaska right after the wedding. Claire, thanks again for taking care of him.”

“Don’t feel bad. It wasn’t your fault. And it was the least I could do after Reed saved my life. If he hadn’t protected me, I would have been the one crushed under the tree. Or worse.” She shuddered. “I think I have him talked into staying in Granddad’s cottage until he’s recovered a bit.”

“Good idea! And thank the good Lord he showed up when he did.” Aunt Sally clapped her hands to get the room’s attention. “It’s been a long night and an even longer morning. Why don’t you all take a break at my house for a few hours? A lot of cake will go to waste if we don’t start eating it.”

“The wedding cake?” Libby paled. “I can’t eat that! It’s supposed to be—”

“It’s food.” Aunt Sally wrapped her arm around Libby. “We’ll make another when you get a new wedding date.”

Libby swallowed and nodded, walking with Sally to the door as the groups dispersed.

Tommy, Bryan and Sam approached Claire. “Come on, you can ride with us.”

“Still no word on the otters?” She nibbled the corner of her lower lip. “Have you called Dad lately? Is the road clear?”

Tommy swiped his hand over his eyebrow. “The otters are fine—”

“How do you know?” Her voice rose. Maybe Tommy checked on them. “Did you get through?”

“No, but—”

“Don’t patronize me, Tommy. I’m responsible for them until they move to the zoo. And I’m having a hard enough time thinking about them leaving next month. If they were hurt or worse—”

“Stop. I got it.” Tommy extended his palms out in defense and widened his eyes at Bryan, who held a cell phone against his ear. “Well?”

Bryan slid the phone back into his pocket. “Didn’t answer.” He glanced at the elevator. “Oh, that’s why.”

Dad strode to them and patted Claire’s shoulder. “The crews have most of your road clear, Claire-bear. Come on, I’ll take you home.”

Claire-bear. Dad musthave been worried sick last night. He hadn’t used his pet name for her in years.

“Thanks, Dad.”

Ten minutes later, Dad drove the back roads to the lake. It was turning out to be a beautiful, sunny day, but branches and trees littered the ground. Half a mile from town, a partially destroyed building with a caved-in roof spilled insulation out the missing side wall.

Damaged roofs, pole barns stripped to their frames, rubble-covered sidewalks, furniture strewn through the streets, cars flipped over in yards—everywhere Claire looked there was devastation.

“Whoa,” she said. “Is it like this all over?”

Dad slowed to avoid a set of patio cushions. “One side of Main Street is unrecognizable. The twister took out several roofs in the new subdivision and ripped up trees on a warpath to the restaurant, but it curved away from there. That’s what I’m being told, at least.”

She hoped he was right. Lake Endwell was a small community. Claire biked everywhere, including the quaint downtown, the veterinary clinic, the church and her father’s house. Most of Lake Endwell was within two miles of her home. She drove to volunteer at the zoo, though. The thirty-minute commute gave her time to think.

They neared her road, a narrow paved lane winding down to the lake. Large sections of newly cut tree trunks had been rolled to the shoulder. Dad’s truck drove over smaller branches and leaves. Claire held her breath. Other than a flipped boat and some minor oddities, there didn’t seem to be any severe damage. She leaned forward.

Granddad’s huge old cabin rose proudly against the sparkling turquoise lake. Over sixty years old, the cabin with its hunter-green siding, white trim and white wraparound decks still impressed. A spacious, welcoming vacation spot—she never tired of gazing at it from her porch next door. A driveway and lawn separated their properties. What she wouldn’t give to wave to Granddad each morning, the way she had done when he was alive. Even when he became wheelchair bound, he lived in this beautiful home. The family made it completely handicap accessible so he could wake up to his view of the lake every morning. After he died, it became the go-to place for any out-of-town guests.

Claire’s smaller, butter-yellow cottage came into view. Still standing. She let out the breath she’d been holding. The window boxes Dad had built last year spilled pink and purple petunias, giving it the homey air she adored. He cut the engine, and, muscles protesting, she shot out of her seat. The sun warmed her face as she raced to the back fence, fumbled with the handle and charged into the backyard, stopping short.

What a mess.

The winds had wreaked havoc back here. The entire forest seemed to have fallen on her lawn, and her two lounge chairs had disappeared. The patio umbrella dangled upside down against the corner of the fence.

No signs of the otters. Her heart dropped to her stomach.

She would not panic.

They were here. They had to be here.

She ran to the cellar, hoping, praying. Down the slippery, damp concrete steps, into the cool darkness. She waited for her eyes to adjust. Her gut clenched. Please...

There. In the corner, Hansel and Gretel slept, all curled around each other. Quietly, she went to them, softly petting each to confirm they were alive. Hansel lifted his head, his nose high in the air, and yawned before tucking back under Gretel’s body. Their distinctive musk brought tears to Claire’s eyes.

“Well, hello to you too.” She grinned, straightening. “I can see the storm didn’t bother either of you.”

A loud noise brought her back up the cellar steps. The small pond would need to be cleared of leaves and sticks, but she could safely leave the otters alone. Shading her eyes, she looked up—Dad had already found the ladder, climbed to her roof and was pounding loose shingles back in place.

“This will only take a minute, Claire. You don’t want these flapping off in the next storm. Why don’t you go in and grab something to eat? Or better yet, go to bed.”

Her stomach growled. How long had it been since she last ate?

At the welcome sight of her living room, her sanctuary, her knees almost buckled. She’d sit a minute. Just a minute.

Unable to fight her sheer lack of energy, she sank into the couch. A million worries raced. Although the wedding made Claire wary, she sympathized with Libby. It would be terrible to come so close only to have a tornado destroy the plans. Claire would bring her some flowers and brownies and let her cry on her shoulder for half the night if need be. She would be there for Libby, the way she always was and always would be.

And what about Reed? Stuck in the hospital, far away from home. At least he had his parents and Jake.

She burrowed deeper into the pillow. Reed was going to need a lot of care. The cast, wheelchair...pain.

A guy like him always got snatched up, but yesterday, Aunt Sally told her he was single. Claire yawned. Single, schmingle. Who cared? She’d thumped the final nail in her romantic-notions coffin long ago. If Justin hadn’t convinced her to give up on men, Dr. Jerk Face had. A Tuesday girl...

Nope. Wasn’t going there.

Images from last night danced in her mind—hanging the balloons, the comfortable feeling she always got in Uncle Joe’s Restaurant, Reed coming in dripping wet, the sirens...

The rest swirled like the storm that held them hostage until she fell asleep.

* * *

If Reed had to guess, he’d say his ankle resembled one of the bloated balloons in Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. Snoopy, probably. The swelling pressed against the inside of his cast, a painful reminder of his captivity. His foot felt as though it weighed at least seven hundred pounds. When would it stop throbbing?

“Claire, do you still have those yoga blocks?” Sally, the barely five-foot-tall woman who could command an army general, stepped away from the couch with a throw pillow in hand. She fluffed it twice. Dale, Claire’s dad, was doing who knew what in the bedroom. This was the weirdest Monday morning Reed had spent in...well...ever.

“Yoga blocks? What are those?” Dale’s voice carried. “We need more hangers. I’ve got three shirts to hang up and no hangers.”

Claire poked her head in through the open sliding door, where she swept twigs and leaves off the deck. “The blocks are in my closet. Should I get them?”

“Yes, and grab a bunch of hangers while you’re at it.” Sally wore jeans rolled up at the ankles and a Race for the Cure T-shirt. Flamingo earrings grazed her shoulders.

“Okay, I’ll be right back.” Claire disappeared.

“Yoga blocks, Dale,” Sally’s voice echoed as she tucked the pillow behind Reed’s neck. “You remember—those blue foam dealies from last year when Libby convinced her to take Marissa’s class.”

Reed studied the cottage’s living area. Streams of sunlight flooded the hardwood floors, and the warm lake breeze tickled the edges of the white sheer curtains. If he wasn’t in so much pain, he’d like it here. Well, he’d like it better if the Sheffields weren’t making such a fuss.

Sally hovered over him. The woman seemed to be everywhere at once. She and Dale were clearly siblings—Reed had never seen two people with so much energy.

“How are you feeling?” Sally brushed his hair from his forehead. “Do you want a drink? A painkiller?”

Reed inhaled with a hiss. He wanted to tell her he was fine. He didn’t need yoga blocks—whatever they were. Or tender motherly touches. Or pillows behind his head. But the skyrocketing throbs prevented him from speaking. He shook his head, not even attempting to smile.

Sally made a clucking noise. “You don’t need to suffer. I’m getting one of those pills.”

Dale trekked back into the living room. “Marissa... Marissa... Oh, you mean the Schneider girl? She teaches yoga? Huh. They still taking the class?”

“Nope. Claire hated it.” With a glass in one hand and a prescription bottle in the other, Sally pivoted around the kitchen counter. “Marissa got on some odd hot yoga bandwagon. Claire said it made her too sweaty. And Libby didn’t want to do it without Claire.” She handed Reed a pill and the water, then stood there until he had no choice but to swallow it. She stacked pillows under Reed’s cast for the eighth time, propping his aching foot up. “Reed, you need to wiggle your toes.”

He gripped the edge of the cushion. No way he was putting his foot in more agony.

“Come on, now. Wiggle those toes. Don’t make me call the doctor.”

“Fine.” Reed concentrated until the big toe moved. A flash of heat spread through his torso, and a bead of sweat dripped down his temple past his ear.

“Good job!” Sally said. “Keep moving them whenever you think of it. You’ll heal faster.”

Dale hustled to the kitchen—the living room, kitchen and dining room were one large open space—and rummaged through a drawer. “His suitcase is unpacked. Should I stop at the store? Get some groceries?” Paper in hand, he returned to stand next to Sally and clicked a pen. “Tell me what he needs.”

“Crackers, soda, things that are easy on the stomach. Doubt he’ll want much to eat today. I’m sure he’ll have more of an appetite tomorrow.”

Reed ground his teeth together. Why were they talking about him as if he weren’t there?

“Reed?” Sally leaned over him. “We’re going to the store. What can we get you?”

His head swam. “My phone and laptop.”

She laughed. “You don’t need those. You need to rest. I meant, what kind of food do you like—snacks, soda, fruit? We’ll get it for you.”

“You don’t have to—”

“Oh, hush. There’s no stopping us. Help us make up this list, and we’ll get out of your hair for a while so you can sleep.”

Dale cleared his throat. “I’ll get your phone and your laptop.”

“He shouldn’t be working.” Sally narrowed her eyes at Dale.

“The man needs his electronics.” Dale disappeared again.

Reed’s neck relaxed. Dale had just gone up a notch in his book.

“Let’s start with produce. Bananas? Apples? Watermelon?” Sally hashed out a grocery list at least fifty items too long, but she kept naming off foods and wouldn’t listen to Reed’s objections.

Dale dragged the coffee table closer to the couch, plugged in Reed’s laptop and set his phone on the table. “Need any help before we take off?”

Reed shook his head.

“Take a nap,” Sally said. “And keep wiggling those toes.”

She walked to the front door with Dale at her heels. They kept up a steady stream of conversation all the way out. Reed moved his toes once more. Broke out in another sweat at the effort. Then he stared at the vaulted wooden ceiling.

Trapped.

In more ways than one.

The car ride from the hospital to the cottage had been agonizing. Every bump, every turn, every tap on the breaks ignited his leg. The jolting wheelchair ride up the ramp to the cabin had sent him to level nine on the pain scale. And moving him to the couch? He might be stuck in this exact position for two weeks, because he was not going through that torture again.

“Yoo-hoo.” Claire sailed in through the front door. “I’ve got the blocks.”

“You just missed them.” Reed twisted his neck to watch her. She wore a white T-shirt with I Love My Zoo in black letters. He pointed at her face. “The bruise under your eye is turning purple.”

“Yeah, I try to coordinate my injuries with my clothes. Less need for makeup.” She swiped her hand down the air in front of her lavender running shorts. “You like?”

He did like. And he’d smile but his leg tortured him. The painkillers could not kick in soon enough.

“I’m not sure what Aunt Sally wants with these.” Claire held a large paper bag with blue foam peeking out and a bundle of hangers. “But I’ve learned not to ask questions. The woman is a master. Hey, does your dad know you were released this morning? I didn’t even think to call him. Should I call him now?”

“No!” The word came out sharper than he intended. “I mean, no, it’s Monday, right? He’s at work. I’ll call him later.”

“Yes, it’s Monday.” A quizzical look flashed across her face, but she brightened. “Okay. So I’m sure Jake’s told you the latest wedding drama.”

Jake hadn’t, but Reed wasn’t ready to admit it. He’d play along. “What’s Libby take on it?”

Claire plopped into the tan chair kitty-corner from the couch. “Let’s say the idea of a cake-only reception didn’t go well.”

“Why only cake?” He had no experience with weddings or much of anything besides his job and the parks in the Chicago vicinity. His mountain bike had seen them all. How long would it be until he could ride again?

“Uncle Joe’s Restaurant is closed indefinitely. Every other hall is booked. The church is too. So their options have dwindled.” She rubbed her arm, concern in her eyes.

“What are they going to do?”

“I’m not sure. Libby and I spent so much time getting all the details perfect—it will be hard for her to let go.”

Reed’s cell phone rang. His boss. “Claire, do you mind if I take this?”

“Of course not! I’ll finish sweeping the deck and give you some privacy. I’ve got to take off for work in a little bit anyway.”

Before he answered, Reed admired her as she disappeared outside. The phone rang again.

Boss. Phone. Right.

“Reed here.”

“Hey, how far have you made it?” John’s hearty voice was the healthy dose of normal Reed needed. Fifteen years older than Reed, John Dalton was more a mentor and friend than boss. “You must be in Minnesota by now, or wait, North Dakota.”

“Change in plans.” Reed winced as he shifted to sit up. “Get this. A tornado roared through town Friday night. No wedding. And no Alaska.”

“What? Why?”

“Broken leg. I’m hanging out in Lake Endwell a week or so. Just until I’m out of the wheelchair.”

“Wheelchair?” John sucked in a throaty breath. “I can’t believe it. Everyone else okay?”

“Yeah, I heard the town got hit pretty hard, though, so I’m going to do what I can to help organize crews until I get back. You have any leads for this area?”

“I’ll look into it.” Papers shuffled in the background. “How are things with your dad?”

“As awkward as usual.”

“Sorry. For what it’s worth, I give you credit. Maybe you’ll work it out while you’re there.”

“I doubt it.” Reed flexed his fingers. “You might as well have Cranston send me the monthly reports. Oh, and the forms he told me about. It’ll give me a chance to get familiar with the new position. If I’m stuck on the couch, I want to be doing something.”

John chuckled. “Always working, aren’t you? I’ll send them, but focus on getting that leg healed. And I’ll call you when I get more info about contractors down there.”

They said goodbye and hung up. Reed tapped the phone against his chin. Two raps on the glass door had him hitching his chin for Claire to enter.

“Well, my work is done here.” She grinned and dusted off the front of her shorts. “Anything I can get you before I head to work?”

“Should you be working today? You’re still pretty beat up.”

Her cheeks sagged. “My boss expects me there. But I’ll come back over tonight.” She drifted to him, and he found himself holding his breath. What was she doing? She grabbed his cell phone, swiped it and a minute later, set it on the coffee table. “There. I programmed my number. You need anything, text me, okay?”

“Wait.” He didn’t want her to go. Not yet. “Have you seen the restaurant?”

“No.” She frowned and sat in the chair. “The dining room survived, but not much else. At least that’s what I’m hearing. I’m not sure I want to see for myself.”

“I’m glad part of it is still standing.”

“I am too.” Uncertainty shone in her eyes. “What if it needs to be torn down? I don’t like to think of it in shambles, but I’ll take shambles over nonexistent.”

“A good builder wouldn’t tear it down unless it was absolutely necessary.”

“That’s what I’m worried about.” She twisted her hands together and bit her lower lip. “If I asked for a favor...”

A favor? What kind of favor? His stomach tightened, but her pleading eyes broke through his defenses. He wanted to help.

“I know you’re hurt and won’t be here long, but could you help Aunt Sally and Uncle Joe find a good contractor?”

He exhaled in relief. “If they need help, of course. I’ve worked with disaster relief crews in the past, and red tape can hold up projects for months.”

“What do you mean by red tape?”

“Getting the insurance adjusters, builders and business owners to agree on costs and schedules is no easy task.” Pain spread from his ankle again. “Let’s hope there won’t be any problems, and the work will get started right away.”

Claire stood, rubbing her arm. “But what if there are problems?”

“I know how to get things moving.”

Smiling, she grazed his hand with her fingertips. “Thank you. And I insist on helping in any way I can.” She checked her watch. “Oh! I’ve got to go. Get some rest, okay?”

She glided through the kitchen and let herself out.

He lay back against the pillows. The thought of working with Claire set off warning alarms, but he dismissed them. He’d be back home in a week. All he had to do was focus on rebuilding the town, and no one would get hurt.


Chapter Three (#ulink_0890b5be-8474-5f92-a176-075f5648d55b)

“Really, Claire? I shouldn’t have to tell you this.”

Claire took a deep breath before turning to Tammy Lathrop—Dr. Tammy—the boss she never seemed to please. The small examination room at the clinic smelled of wet dog, cleaner and dog biscuits, which usually didn’t bother Claire, but today the medley of scents closed in on her. The fact that she should have been home thirty minutes ago didn’t help. Eight hours on her feet every Monday was bad enough—today’s tally would be closer to nine.

Tammy gestured to the bottle of cleaner in Claire’s hand. “You know we use the sanitizer solution with bleach to clean the examination tables.”

“This is the sanitizer solution with bleach.” Claire tried to remain pleasant.

“No, it isn’t. That’s the blue bottle. You need to get the purple bottle.”

“They repackaged it.” She held it up. “The bleach solution looks like this now.”

Tammy stared, her jaw tightening. “Let me see it.” She waved two fingers for Claire to hand it to her. After reading the label, Tammy thrust it back in Claire’s hand. “Fine. But wipe it down twice. It looks like you missed a spot over there.”

Claire strangled the paper towel in her hand until her boss exited. She couldn’t do this much longer. She never minded cleaning up after patients, but when her every move was judged and criticized, it killed her morale.

Tammy hadn’t even asked about her black eye or scratches. There had been a time Tammy would be the first to show concern. She probably would have urged Claire to take the day off. But those days had disappeared long ago when Tammy started seeing Mark Calloway, aka Dr. Jerk Face.

So Claire had worked for Mark before Tammy. Was it really that big a deal that Claire dated him briefly? Apparently. But Claire had dumped him, not the other way around, and Mark had promptly spread rumors about her around town. No doubt, Mark filled Tammy’s head with the same lies. An ex ruining another good thing in her life—a friendship she’d cherished. A job she liked. It still hurt.

Not that Tammy was worth it if she believed everything he said.

Claire sprayed and wiped the examination table. Getting Reed settled next door this morning had taken her mind off the job opening at the zoo. Last night, after she, Dad and her brothers cleaned up the yard for the otters, Claire had finished her online application. The only red flag? The omission of recent job references. Mark certainly wouldn’t give her one. And Claire didn’t want Tammy to know she was actively job hunting. Hopefully, her volunteer work at the zoo and the letter from her friend, Lisa Jones, who owned the animal sanctuary where Claire gave free checkups to injured birds and animals, would be enough.

Submitting the application had been exhilarating, but now the giddiness melted into anxiety. Were her qualifications enough? Had she answered the questions correctly?

One of the zookeepers had texted her at lunch. Did you put your app in yet? I heard Tina say she has 30 in already.

Claire continued wiping the surfaces. Thirty applications. And the job had been posted on Friday. Steep competition.

Working quickly and methodically, she finished cleaning the room. She put the supplies away and found her purse, and she and the receptionist left together. A blast of moist heat hit her as she made her way to her bike. A breeze to keep her scrubs from clinging to her skin couldn’t be too much to ask for, could it?

She pedaled down the side street to a back road—her favorite route home. Varying shades of green leaves dotted the woods on either side, and a pair of mourning doves swooped ahead of her. Her legs tightened, burned, but she forced them to keep pumping up the hill. The exertion burned off some of her earlier resentment.

After she’d changed into shorts and fed the otters, Claire stood outside Granddad’s cottage. Aunt Sally had texted her earlier to say she had plans tonight but that she’d left stir-fry ingredients in Reed’s fridge.

Preparing dinner for Reed didn’t sound like a good time. For one, she was a lousy cook. Two, making food seemed intimate, and after this morning when her treacherous body betrayed her—she’d practically gotten shivers putting her phone number in Reed’s cell—she’d promised herself to be nurselike. Detached.

One-on-one interactions with a devastatingly gorgeous guy? One on his way back to Chicago soon? Not smart.

She knocked and strolled inside. From across the room, she noted Reed’s paleness. Reclining on the sofa, eyes closed with his cast up on her yoga blocks—Aunt Sally had hit a home run again—Reed’s slack face looked haggard while he slept. Poor guy.

As quietly as possible, she padded to him and pressed the back of her hand against his forehead. No fever. But his shallow breathing indicated his discomfort even in sleep.

She retreated to the kitchen and cut up the vegetables. Started the rice. Heated oil in the pan and added chicken breast chunks. When they began to sizzle, she seasoned and stirred them. A moan from the couch spun her attention to the living room.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” Claire set the spatula on the counter and went to Reed. “What can I get you? Do you need help with anything?”

He blew out a breath and ran his hand through his hair, leaving it more rumpled than before. More tempting. “The chair. Help me into the wheelchair.”

She kneeled, setting his arm around her shoulder as he swung his legs to the side. He hissed.

“I’m sorry.” She touched his hard, muscular biceps. Big mistake. Warmth pooled in her stomach. “Did I hurt you?”

“No,” he said through clenched teeth.

It took a few minutes and more exertion than she anticipated, but they succeeded in getting him into the chair. He slowly wheeled down the hall.

“Do you need me to help you?” she called after him.

“No. Got it.”

An acrid smell came from the kitchen. She jogged to the stove. The chicken had taken on a dark brown hue, but the chunks weren’t officially burned...just well done. Very well done. Stirring the rice, she realized she’d forgotten to cover the pan or put it on low, so a crispy layer coated the bottom.

She broke up the chunks, added a bit more water and hoped it would be edible.

Several minutes later she spooned rice and the chicken-and-vegetable mixture onto a plate, then shimmied past the counter to see what was keeping Reed.

“Are you okay?” She stretched her neck to see down the hall. Empty.

“Fine.”

“Need me to help?”

“No.” His voice sounded strained.

Should she stay? Help him? Or set the food on the table and leave?

“Your dinner is on the table,” she called.

“Okay.”

“Want me to stay?”

A clamor came from the hall. Reed wheeled back to her, the paleness in his face replaced by brick red. “You don’t have to. I’ll be fine.”

She hesitated. He didn’t look fine. But she didn’t want to intrude. And as much as her nursing instincts prodded her to monitor him, her feminine instincts hollered to get back home. Stat.

“I’ll eat with you and get you settled.” She pulled another plate out of the cupboard. Reed moved to the end of the table where she’d set his food.

Joining him, she bowed her head, said grace and motioned to his fork. “Go ahead.” She bit down on a too-crunchy piece of broccoli. The flavors in her mouth created an odd mixture of char, salt and teriyaki sauce. She almost spit it out. “This is disgusting. I’m making you a sandwich.”

He’d paled again. But he hadn’t touched his food, so dinner wasn’t to blame.

“Maybe you should lie down.” She bit her lower lip.

Nodding, he pushed himself back to the couch. She helped him get settled. He winced as she set his cast back onto the yoga blocks. “I’ll let you rest.”

“No, wait.” His hand darted out and clasped her wrist, sending awareness up her spine. “Stay.”

How could she refuse an injured man? One with eyes the exact brown of Gretel’s fur? Who’d put his life at risk to protect her? She gulped. One who...needed her?

Her downfall.

There went her good intentions to be nurselike. Detached.

Because being needed was her weakest spot. Always had been. Always would be.

* * *

Reed groaned. Why had he asked Claire to stay? When he was supposed to be focused on anything but her?

He was a needy mess, that was why.

“Of course I’ll stay.” Claire adjusted the pillow behind his neck, then sat in the leather chair. “Tomorrow, I’ll take you out on the deck. The fresh air will do you good.”

Fresh air or a slap in the face. Anything to get him rational again.

He searched for a safe topic to discuss. “What’s it like living here?” There. He’d be reminded of why Lake Endwell was the last place on earth he belonged. No skyscrapers, Wrigley Field, world-class museums—not that he ever went to any—gourmet restaurants or the Chicago Bears.

Claire smiled at him. “Good question. I’m not sure how to answer. It’s home. Dinners with my family right here in this cottage. Aunt Sally and Uncle Joe always cook. It’s barbecues, boat rides, bicycling around town. Ice cream at Tastee Freeze. Fourth of July picnic. A big Christmas tree–lighting ceremony in City Park by the gazebo.”

“Sounds idyllic.”

Her eyes twinkled. “When we were little, Dad took us kids to Cookie’s Diner on Saturday mornings. I always got hot chocolate and toast. I’d spread grape jelly on one slice and strawberry on the other. Cookie’s went out of business, so we all go to Pat’s Diner now. It’s one of the few buildings unaffected by the tornado. Thankfully, the church didn’t get touched either.”

“Do you still get hot chocolate and toast?”

She laughed. Reminded him of little bells. Happiness. “No. Omelets or pancakes for me. With a side of bacon. And coffee. Lots of coffee.”

“My kind of breakfast.” His leg hardly bothered him now. If she would just keep talking... “Tell me about the town. How bad does Main Street look?”

She shook her head, lifting her eyes to the ceiling. “Terrible. I don’t know how to process it. My favorite places are surrounded by piles of bricks and smashed windows. I mean, I got my ears pierced at JoJo’s Jewelry. Mom and Aunt Sally took me, and boy, was I excited! Mom held my hand the whole time. She died giving birth to Libby. It’s hard to have another link to her disappear, you know?”

Yeah. He did know. “My mom died when I was seven.” His links to her were long gone, and his memories weren’t that great to begin with. “How old were you?”

“I was six. You lost your mom too? Mine died of a postpartum hemorrhage. I still miss her. What happened to yours?”

“Car accident.” He’d learned to keep the story simple. It had been bad enough getting badgered by his classmates at school. Everyone whispered about it. The paper had spared no gory detail. Except no one knew the real reason why. Just him and Dad. Kind of.

She leaned over and squeezed his hand. He felt her touch all the way to his heart.

“I was blessed to have a little brother and baby sister to take care of. After the funeral, I promised to be the mom Libby and Sam needed. I tried to help my older brothers too, but the little ones needed me more. Aunt Sally really stepped in for us. She made sure we had the advice Mom would have given. I don’t know what I would have done without her.”

“You were a little kid. No one expected you to be their mother.”

She shrugged. “I know. But I had six wonderful years with Mom. Those two didn’t know her. I wanted to be there for them—for her sake. Did you have family step in and help out after your mom passed?”

He shifted his jaw. Usually, this was the point in the conversation he cracked a joke and changed the subject, but maybe it would be better for Claire to know the truth. Part of it anyway.

“No, they didn’t.” He folded his hands, let them rest on his abdomen. “In fact, after the funeral, Mom’s family acted like I didn’t exist. No more birthday parties or family get-togethers. My grandmother, who I spent a lot of time with as a kid, pretended she didn’t know me one day when we ran into her at the grocery store. We moved to another town a few months later.”

Claire’s mouth dropped open. “What? How could she? You were a little boy. I want to go there and give her a piece of my mind.”

He hadn’t expected her righteous indignation. “You can’t. I heard she died a few years ago. I got over it.”

“Well, I’m not getting over it. Families are supposed to stick together and support each other.”

“That’s why I don’t do families. I like being my own person. And I’ve worked hard to move up in Rockbend Construction. Chicago is big and fun, and I belong there. It’s home for me the way Lake Endwell is for you.”

Claire crossed one leg over the other. “So you’re not into family? What about your dad and Jake?”

“Jake’s great. Best kid in the world.”

“And your dad?”

He hesitated. How much should he reveal to her? “We’re fine. Not close, but we’re fine.”

“Well, someday you’ll want a family of your own.” She stared out the windows at the lake.

“Nah, I’m good.” He’d lost people who had meant the world to him. Mom would never come back. Her family refused to acknowledge he existed. Dad barely talked to him after her death. And then there was Collin.

She gave him a sharp look. “Really?”

“Really.”

Her shoulder lifted. “I feel the same. I’ve got all I need.”

“You? Not having a family of your own?” He guffawed. “I find that hard to believe.”

Sadness draped her eyes, but she hid it quickly. “Believe it.”

“Why?”

“One, I’m not moving again, and the pickings around here are slim. And two, I have high expectations. I haven’t met a man willing to put me first. Anyway, I’m happy with my life the way it is.”

Her first reason put the brakes on his speeding attraction. The second? Made him squirm. She deserved to be first in a man’s life.

Too bad he wasn’t capable of being that man.


Chapter Four (#ulink_9403bc21-bc5a-5793-b09c-8d209e6b942e)

Claire tossed her keys on the kitchen counter, tried to work the kinks out of her neck and strode to the patio door. Another boring Wednesday at work, and now she had to come up with something edible to bring to Reed’s. Why had Aunt Sally chosen tonight to get her hair trimmed and colored?

“Hey, babies, where are you?” Claire called. The otters raced to her, their long bodies undulating across the lawn. She gave them each a carrot and stroked their thick, soft fur. Their mild scent teased her nose. Gretel got up on her hind legs and sniffed, then made a funny snorting sound. “No, you get one carrot tonight, little lady. You know the drill.”

They loved fresh vegetables and fruits, but their main diet consisted of fish supplied by the zoo, with an occasional crawfish, frog or boiled egg. Gretel nudged Claire’s hand with her nose. She laughed, shaking her head. “I’ll bring you apples tomorrow. You’re incorrigible.”

Claire lay back in the lounge chair and mindlessly observed the clouds drifting across the sky. Spending time with Hansel and Gretel made up a little for what she’d had to deal with at the clinic today. Once again, passed over to assist Tammy in an operation. Put on cat-cage cleaning duty. This made three weeks in a row.

She blew out a breath. She deserved better. If she didn’t get the position at the zoo, she would have to make some changes. Life was too short to work for someone who treated her like garbage.

The otters stretched out in the sun for a nap. She’d wasted enough time thinking about her thankless job. A more important topic loomed.

Reed. She’d checked on him the past two evenings, but Aunt Sally had been keeping vigil, and Reed had been asleep both times. Her dad helped Reed with basic care off and on during the day.

Claire couldn’t get Reed out of her mind. And she needed to. He’d made it clear his home was in Chicago.

What he’d revealed about his mom’s death—how his family treated him—still filled her with indignation. How could anyone disown a child? How painful it must have been for him to lose his mom and her family.

Her chest burned the more she thought about it. No wonder he wasn’t into families. She probably wouldn’t be either if she’d gone through what he had. And it made her wonder about Reed’s dad. Roger hadn’t come over to check on Reed. Aunt Sally said Jake stopped by last night. But not his own father? Strange.

Claire plodded inside to change. Her cooking skills clearly qualified her for the title of Worst Cook in America. At this point, a grilled cheese might be too much to hope for.

The phone rang as she shimmied into her khaki shorts.

“How’s my favorite niece?” Uncle Joe asked, not waiting for her to answer. “Sally got home early and made you and Reed dinner if you want to swing by and pick it up.”

Claire almost purred. “You two are lifesavers. How did you know I dreaded having to deal with dinner?”

“You never want to deal with dinner.” His raspy chuckle made her smile. “And you know your aunt. She lives to feed people. With the restaurant shut down, she’s going crazy. If she’s not cooking, she’s pestering.”

“Well, tell her not to stop,” she said. “I’ll be right there. Don’t let any of my cousins steal my food either. I know how they are.”

Claire slipped into her favorite sparkly black flip-flops, grabbed her purse and drove the mile to Uncle Joe and Aunt Sally’s house. Nestled on a wooded property, the ranch-style home hid behind a grove of evergreens. Claire parked next to her cousin’s beat-up truck and then loped to the front door. With a quick knock, she let herself in, calling, “It’s me.”

“Come on in.” Aunt Sally beamed from behind the kitchen counter. The smell of fried chicken made Claire’s stomach rumble. Aunt Sally pushed a plate of cheese and crackers toward her. “Don’t worry, I didn’t let Braedon touch your takeout containers.”

They had a running joke that Braedon, her twenty-five-year-old cousin who regularly stopped by for dinner, could eat a sumo wrestler under the table. Claire nibbled on a cracker. “Your hair looks fabulous. Have you heard anything about the restaurant? When do you think it will reopen?”

“Thanks, hon.” She fluffed her bangs. “The insurance adjuster hasn’t been out, but he told us to use their contractor. We’ve called the guy and keep getting a machine. I don’t like that we can’t pick our own builder. We need the restaurant up and running. Where will everyone go for Friday fish fry? And now that the weather’s gotten nice, people are looking to eat on the patio by the lake. I don’t know what we’ll do if we can’t get opened again soon.”

Claire hated to think of the restaurant shut down indefinitely, but she hadn’t gotten the nerve up to go back and see the damage for herself. The other night a sound from the television reminded her of the roof tearing off, and it had taken her ten minutes to calm down. “I’m praying.”

“Thanks.” Sally sniffed. “We don’t have it as bad as most of the folks around here. Lois and Herb moved to a hotel twenty minutes away until their house gets fixed, and I don’t know how those Riley sisters are doing it, living with half a roof. Don’t get me started on Miss Gert.”

“Miss Gert? Is Whiskers still missing?” Claire selected another cheese cube. “I thought Dad formed a search party.” Miss Gert was eighty-four, lived in a house so old it could have been built by Christopher Columbus himself and doted on her long-haired, extremely pudgy cat.

“Oh, they found him all right. Eating a dead bird in that ramshackle barn behind her place. But she can’t keep Whiskers inside with her back room damaged. She’ll have a heart attack worrying. I told Dale to get some of the boys together and patch it up for her, but she thinks the noise will hurt poor Whiskers’s ears.”

“Want me to go over and talk to her? Maybe I can take her to the grocery store or something while they do a quick repair job.”

“Would you?” Aunt Sally beamed. “I’d do it myself, but you know she can’t stand me. She aimed that BB gun of hers at my head last time I tried to bring her lunch.”

Claire laughed. “I’ll do my best. And let’s hope the insurance people and builders get things done quickly.”

“Reed’s boss called him while I was there yesterday. No calls have come through from any girls. I’d say he’s definitely girlfriend free.” Sally gave her a knowing look, then handed her the takeout bag. “You’d better get moving if you want to enjoy your meal while it’s hot. Tell Reed hi for us, and let him know I’ll be bringing lunch tomorrow around noon. I like that boy. He’s respectful and cute.”

Claire couldn’t deny it. He was cute.

“Nothing to say, huh?” Sally popped a hand on her hip. “Hey, I may be getting older, but I’m not blind. I’ll gladly bring a handsome guy lunch every day. Yes, I will. And I think you should make the most of this opportunity. A fine man like him hasn’t come through town in years.”

Claire wasn’t touching this conversation with a fly-fishing rod.

“How’s he been with you? Not much of a talker, is he?”

“He talks,” Claire said. “He’s probably in pain and doesn’t want to show it.”

“I’m sure you’re right. With you bringing him dinner, maybe we can convince him to stay.”

Not likely. “I think he’s pretty happy in Chicago.” Claire reached for the handles of the paper bag. She kissed her aunt on the cheek, thanked her and headed back to Granddad’s cottage.

Five minutes later, as she made her way up the ramp, she paused to savor the low sunlight spreading gold over the lake. Her favorite place in the world. God had touched this land, blessed it with beauty. Giving the side door a perfunctory two knocks, she cracked it open.

“Yoo-hoo, Reed? It’s Claire.” She set the bag on the large island and continued to the living room, stopping when she glimpsed him.

Shirtless.

Her mouth dried to ashes. Wow. Reed’s arms flailed over his head, and the T-shirt he wrestled with tangled in his hands and forearms. He muttered something, and she chortled, choking on a laugh as she sped to his side.

“Let me.” She tugged the cotton off him, and then, trying not to gawk at his bare chest—she’d be attempting to erase the image of that six-pack for some time, maybe forever—she straightened the material and stretched it over his neck. She spun on her heel to return to the kitchen. Why was she out of breath?

“When you’re ready, come to the table.” Her words came out higher-pitched than a three-year-old’s.

Reed followed her. His face had reddened—embarrassment or exertion?—but he stopped the wheelchair at the low farmhouse table next to a bank of floor-to-ceiling windows.

“Isn’t the view incredible? Another gorgeous day on the lake.” She snatched two plates out of the cupboard, piled silverware and napkins on top and quickly set the table. Then she divvied up the fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, corn and biscuits before taking a seat next to him. “Want me to say grace?”

“I’ll do it.” Reed folded his hands and said a prayer. When he finished, Claire smiled at him, but the hollowness in his eyes stopped her from digging into the food. “What’s wrong?”

He sent a sharp glance her way. “Nothing.”

“I didn’t cook this.” She backed her palms to her shoulders. “Aunt Sally did.”

That brought the hint of a smile to his unshaven face.

“Is it your leg? The first week is the worst for pain. Have you been taking your meds?” She strolled to the counter and found the orange bottles of various medications he was supposed to be taking.

“I’m fine,” he growled.

“You are not fine.” She held up one of the bottles. “I can see it in your eyes. I’m a trained professional, you know.”

“I’m not an animal.”

She chuckled. “I know. My otters are more playful. You’re grumpier.”

“Your...what?” His crinkled nose and eyebrows reminded her she’d never told him about the rescued babies.

“Otters. I’m caring for twins until the zoo takes them later this summer.”

“Why?”

“Their mom was attacked. Lost the use of her back legs. My friend Lisa runs an animal sanctuary nearby and was able to deliver the twins. They stayed with their mother until they were weaned, but Lisa only keeps injured animals. They’re too tame to be released into the wild, so I made an arrangement with the zoo. I’m housing them until the new exhibit is ready next month.” Finding the prescription ibuprofen, she returned to the table and slid the tablet his way. “Here. You should be a quarter way through the bottle by now. Haven’t you taken any?”

“I don’t need them.” He pushed it away. “Before you start lecturing, though, I have been taking the antibiotics.”

“I’m not lecturing.” Technically, she was lecturing, but she preferred to think of it as reminding. “Now is not the time to play tough guy, Reed. The painkillers will make this easier on you.”

The vein in his temple jumped. He ignored the pill and bit into his drumstick.

What now? She couldn’t force him to take it. And she couldn’t hide it in a piece of cheese the way she did when a pet stubbornly refused a tablet.

Well, she probably could hide it in a piece of cheese, but Reed was an adult. He could make his own decisions and live with the aftermath.

She suppressed a sigh and dug into her potatoes, telling him about Wompers, the enormous dog no one in their clinic had been able to budge from the waiting room this morning. The owner tried to drag the poor beast, but the dog could not be moved.

The dark circles under Reed’s eyes and the tightness around his mouth churned her stomach.

“Just take the stinking pill.” She pointed to it with her fork.

He glared for five seconds but finally popped it in his mouth and took a swig of lemonade. She smiled. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

They finished the meal in silence. When Claire stood to clear their plates, Reed backed the chair up, but it got caught on something. He jammed the wheels forward, then backward, then forward again. His body crackled with tension. “I hate this.”

Claire wanted to go to him, put her arm around his shoulder and comfort him. But it wasn’t her place.

“This stupid chair,” he said. “I can barely get around.”

“I would hate it too. I wish I could make your leg heal with the snap of my fingers.” Claire strode to the living room and opened a cabinet. “Maybe you need something to take your mind off things.”

She selected an early CD by Michael Bublé and slid it into the stereo. Jaunty music filled the air. Returning to the kitchen, she stacked dishes in the sink. Then she paused in the living room—Reed had wheeled to the sliding door and looked out at the lake. He rested his chin on his fist, his gaze faraway.

“As hard as it is for me right now, the view almost makes me forget. Your grandfather knew what he was doing when he made his home here.”

“I’m glad you think so.” The whitewashed walls, tan leather furniture, bookcases filled with paperbacks, old ashtrays and golden retriever knickknacks relaxed her. Reminded her how Granddad always had a hug and a pot of coffee for her. “It’s been a big part of my life.”

Reed’s eyes appeared almost copper in the weakening light, and the expression in them... Apologetic? Or appreciative?

“Claire?” His long lashes lowered. “Will you help me out of this torture chamber so I can sit on the couch?”

“Of course.” A slow ballad came on. She bent for him to put his arm around her shoulder and lifted as he heaved his body upward. The smell of his skin hinted at an ocean breeze. “There. Move to the left. Careful.”

He reclined on the couch, his cheeks ruddy from exertion.

“Better?” She adjusted the yoga blocks under his cast.

“Yeah.” He sounded hoarse. “Come here a minute.”

She moved to his side, her pulse racing. Why did her skin feel prickly all of a sudden?

He took her hand, his thumb rubbing over her hers. “Can you stay awhile?”

“Yes.” Her voice sounded like a tiny mouse’s, if tiny mice could speak.

“Good.”

For a split second, she thought he might want to kiss her.

She wanted him to kiss her.

“Tell me what’s going on with the town cleanup.” He let her hand drop.

She blinked. See? He didn’t want to kiss her. Just helping the town. Nothing more.

Claire crossed to the chair, a safe distance from him but close enough they could chat with ease. “Not much. The insurance adjuster hasn’t been out to Uncle Joe’s yet. On Sunday, a bunch of people cleared the street downtown to be drivable, but other than tarps covering a few houses, nothing is happening.”

“We need to change that.” His tone went from smooth to brisk. She liked smooth better. “Do you have a paper and pen? If we’re going to get this town restored, I have questions to be answered.”

“Really?” She scurried to the kitchen for pen and paper. When she returned, she clicked the pen, preparing to write. “What do you want to know?”

“What stores would you say need the most work?”

She thought a moment and listed the ones she could think of. “Let me call Dad. He knows more than I do.” Pulling her cell phone from her pocket, she dialed his number. “Dad? Reed and I are making a list of all the stores destroyed—”

“Good idea. I’ll be right there.” He hung up before she could respond.

She shrugged, smiling at Reed. “Dad’s on his way.”

The corner of his mouth twisted. “You mean I don’t get you all to myself?”

All to himself? Claire widened her eyes and shrugged.

Then he grinned. “Your dad’s great. I want to make as many calls as possible before I leave next week.”

And just like that, her spirits dropped to the floor. Next week would be here before she knew it, and playing with temptation had burned her twice before. Not this time.

* * *

Five more minutes. Five minutes and he was sawing the cast off. He’d use a butter knife if he had to.

Reed gripped the arms of the wheelchair. The itch in his leg permeated his thoughts. A thin branch taunted from the limb overhanging the deck. If Reed went outside and snapped the twig, he’d jam it in his cast and scrape his leg until no skin remained.

Fridays were supposed to be good days. Fun days. But after two hours of studying the weekly report he would be in charge of as vice president, he’d almost fallen asleep of boredom. So he’d switched gears, making phone calls to local business owners, construction crews and even two insurance adjusters. Right up his alley. But, with nothing more to do, Reed had thumbed through every magazine in the cottage. Knew all the summer fashions. Skimmed the bookcases and learned about the war of 1812. Memorized the capitals of the fifty states. The television bored him. Inactivity? A cruel, cruel fate.





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