Small-Town Bachelor
Page 1
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, or contact her at PO Box 2802, Whitehouse, OH 43571.
Books by Jill Kemerer
Love Inspired
Small-Town Bachelor
Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com for more titles
SMALL-TOWN
BACHELOR
Jill Kemerer
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
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Epilogue
Dear Reader
Excerpt
Chapter One
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 Lib
by. 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.”