Small-Town Bachelor

“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.”