Small-Town Bachelor. Jill Kemerer
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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.”
“Don’t be so sure,” she said. “You’ll probably get a new cast in two or three weeks.”
“What do you mean?” He shifted, flinching as his foot bumped the bed rail.
“Your leg will shrink, and this cast won’t fit. Plus, the doctors check your progress often. Don’t get too attached to your current one.”
“And here I was going to name it. Way to ruin it for me. How do you know so much about this anyway?”
“I have three brothers. In and out of the hospital all the time growing up. I’m also a vet tech.”
Her brothers had been at the rehearsal dinner. They seemed like fun guys. “What’s a vet tech? Something with cats, dogs and computers?”
“Something like that, minus the computers. I’m a veterinary technician at a local clinic now.”
“Is it temporary or something?”
Pink tinted her cheeks. “No, it’s permanent, but ever since I can remember, I’ve wanted to work for the zoo. I’ve volunteered there for years. A position is opening up later this summer.”
“Why don’t you work there already?”
She averted her eyes. “I had a chance once. But I turned it down. I won’t again.” She picked at the edge of the gauze on her hand. “Jobs are hard to come by at our zoo. They don’t have a large budget, and when they hire someone, the person tends to stay.”
He shrugged. “Work for a different zoo, then.”
Her blank stare bored into him for a solid three seconds. Why was she looking at him as if he’d turned green?
“What?” he asked. “What did I say?”
“There aren’t any other zoos around here.”
“So? Move.”
“Nope.” She brushed her hands together in a dismissive motion. “Did that once. Lost my dream job and my heart in one fell swoop. I’m staying here, in Lake Endwell, where I belong. But hey, I didn’t come in here to bore you with my life story.”
Boring? Claire? Not possible. There had to be more behind her tale. One he wanted to hear someday.
“What’s next?” she asked. “I mean, what happens now with your leg and all?”
What was next? Dinner, a movie, a good-night kiss? What was it about her that mellowed him? Brought out his playful side?
Her mention of losing her heart must have jarred his brain. Talk about bad timing for getting the urge to flirt. Maybe the painkillers were messing with his head.
“I was supposed to be off to Alaska. Looks like I’m heading back to Chicago instead.”
“Alaska?” Her voice rose on the last syllable. “Why?”
He sighed. It rankled—having to cancel the trip. “I always wanted to explore the wilderness. Get back to nature for a month. Ride the ferries. See whales. Fish.”
“I’m sorry, Reed.” She did look sorry. “Sounds like something you’ve been planning for a long time.”
“Yeah. Well, what do you do?”
Neither spoke as muffled conversations of doctors and nurses in the hallway and beeping sounds filtered through the room. Then she perked up.
“You can stay here. We have wilderness—well, a lake anyway. And Granddad’s cottage is handicap accessible. You can fish off the end of the dock.”