Читать книгу Small-Town Bachelor - Jill Kemerer - Страница 11

Chapter Three

“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.”

“They repackaged it.” She held it up. “The bleach solution looks like this now.”

Tammy stared, her jaw tightening. “Let me see it.” She waved two fingers for Claire to hand it to her. After reading the label, Tammy thrust it back in Claire’s hand. “Fine. But wipe it down twice. It looks like you missed a spot over there.”

Claire strangled the paper towel in her hand until her boss exited. She couldn’t do this much longer. She never minded cleaning up after patients, but when her every move was judged and criticized, it killed her morale.

Tammy hadn’t even asked about her black eye or scratches. There had been a time Tammy would be the first to show concern. She probably would have urged Claire to take the day off. But those days had disappeared long ago when Tammy started seeing Mark Calloway, aka Dr. Jerk Face.

So Claire had worked for Mark before Tammy. Was it really that big a deal that Claire dated him briefly? Apparently. But Claire had dumped him, not the other way around, and Mark had promptly spread rumors about her around town. No doubt, Mark filled Tammy’s head with the same lies. An ex ruining another good thing in her life—a friendship she’d cherished. A job she liked. It still hurt.

Not that Tammy was worth it if she believed everything he said.

Claire sprayed and wiped the examination table. Getting Reed settled next door this morning had taken her mind off the job opening at the zoo. Last night, after she, Dad and her brothers cleaned up the yard for the otters, Claire had finished her online application. The only red flag? The omission of recent job references. Mark certainly wouldn’t give her one. And Claire didn’t want Tammy to know she was actively job hunting. Hopefully, her volunteer work at the zoo and the letter from her friend, Lisa Jones, who owned the animal sanctuary where Claire gave free checkups to injured birds and animals, would be enough.

Submitting the application had been exhilarating, but now the giddiness melted into anxiety. Were her qualifications enough? Had she answered the questions correctly?

One of the zookeepers had texted her at lunch. Did you put your app in yet? I heard Tina say she has 30 in already.

Claire continued wiping the surfaces. Thirty applications. And the job had been posted on Friday. Steep competition.

Working quickly and methodically, she finished cleaning the room. She put the supplies away and found her purse, and she and the receptionist left together. A blast of moist heat hit her as she made her way to her bike. A breeze to keep her scrubs from clinging to her skin couldn’t be too much to ask for, could it?

She pedaled down the side street to a back road—her favorite route home. Varying shades of green leaves dotted the woods on either side, and a pair of mourning doves swooped ahead of her. Her legs tightened, burned, but she forced them to keep pumping up the hill. The exertion burned off some of her earlier resentment.

After she’d changed into shorts and fed the otters, Claire stood outside Granddad’s cottage. Aunt Sally had texted her earlier to say she had plans tonight but that she’d left stir-fry ingredients in Reed’s fridge.

Preparing dinner for Reed didn’t sound like a good time. For one, she was a lousy cook. Two, making food seemed intimate, and after this morning when her treacherous body betrayed her—she’d practically gotten shivers putting her phone number in Reed’s cell—she’d promised herself to be nurselike. Detached.

One-on-one interactions with a devastatingly gorgeous guy? One on his way back to Chicago soon? Not smart.

She knocked and strolled inside. From across the room, she noted Reed’s paleness. Reclining on the sofa, eyes closed with his cast up on her yoga blocks—Aunt Sally had hit a home run again—Reed’s slack face looked haggard while he slept. Poor guy.

As quietly as possible, she padded to him and pressed the back of her hand against his forehead. No fever. But his shallow breathing indicated his discomfort even in sleep.

She retreated to the kitchen and cut up the vegetables. Started the rice. Heated oil in the pan and added chicken breast chunks. When they began to sizzle, she seasoned and stirred them. A moan from the couch spun her attention to the living room.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” Claire set the spatula on the counter and went to Reed. “What can I get you? Do you need help with anything?”

He blew out a breath and ran his hand through his hair, leaving it more rumpled than before. More tempting. “The chair. Help me into the wheelchair.”

She kneeled, setting his arm around her shoulder as he swung his legs to the side. He hissed.

“I’m sorry.” She touched his hard, muscular biceps. Big mistake. Warmth pooled in her stomach. “Did I hurt you?”

“No,” he said through clenched teeth.

It took a few minutes and more exertion than she anticipated, but they succeeded in getting him into the chair. He slowly wheeled down the hall.

“Do you need me to help you?” she called after him.

“No. Got it.”

An acrid smell came from the kitchen. She jogged to the stove. The chicken had taken on a dark brown hue, but the chunks weren’t officially burned...just well done. Very well done. Stirring the rice, she realized she’d forgotten to cover the pan or put it on low, so a crispy layer coated the bottom.

She broke up the chunks, added a bit more water and hoped it would be edible.

Several minutes later she spooned rice and the chicken-and-vegetable mixture onto a plate, then shimmied past the counter to see what was keeping Reed.

“Are you okay?” She stretched her neck to see down the hall. Empty.

“Fine.”

“Need me to help?”

“No.” His voice sounded strained.

Should she stay? Help him? Or set the food on the table and leave?

“Your dinner is on the table,” she called.

“Okay.”

“Want me to stay?”

A clamor came from the hall. Reed wheeled back to her, the paleness in his face replaced by brick red. “You don’t have to. I’ll be fine.”

She hesitated. He didn’t look fine. But she didn’t want to intrude. And as much as her nursing instincts prodded her to monitor him, her feminine instincts hollered to get back home. Stat.

“I’ll eat with you and get you settled.” She pulled another plate out of the cupboard. Reed moved to the end of the table where she’d set his food.

Joining him, she bowed her head, said grace and motioned to his fork. “Go ahead.” She bit down on a too-crunchy piece of broccoli. The flavors in her mouth created an odd mixture of char, salt and teriyaki sauce. She almost spit it out. “This is disgusting. I’m making you a sandwich.”

He’d paled again. But he hadn’t touched his food, so dinner wasn’t to blame.

“Maybe you should lie down.” She bit her lower lip.

Nodding, he pushed himself back to the couch. She helped him get settled. He winced as she set his cast back onto the yoga blocks. “I’ll let you rest.”

“No, wait.” His hand darted out and clasped her wrist, sending awareness up her spine. “Stay.”

How could she refuse an injured man? One with eyes the exact brown of Gretel’s fur? Who’d put his life at risk to protect her? She gulped. One who...needed her?

Her downfall.

There went her good intentions to be nurselike. Detached.

Because being needed was her weakest spot. Always had been. Always would be.

* * *

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.