Small-Town Bachelor

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.

Small-Town

Bachelor

Jill Kemerer

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

Back Cover Text

Introduction

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Verse

Dedication

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

Extract

Copyright

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 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.”