Small-Town Bachelor. Jill Kemerer

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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 СКАЧАТЬ