Small-Town Bachelor

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.