Small-Town Bachelor. Jill Kemerer

      “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.

Chapter Four

      Claire tossed her keys on the kitchen counter, tried to work the kinks out of her neck and strode to the patio door. Another boring Wednesday at work, and now she had to come up with something edible to bring to Reed’s. Why had Aunt Sally chosen tonight to get her hair trimmed and colored?

      “Hey, babies, where are you?” Claire called. The otters raced to her, their long bodies undulating across the lawn. She gave them each a carrot and stroked their thick, soft fur. Their mild scent teased her nose. Gretel got up on her hind legs and sniffed, then made a funny snorting sound. “No, you get one carrot tonight, little lady. You know the drill.”

      They loved fresh vegetables and fruits, but their main diet consisted of fish supplied by the zoo, with an occasional crawfish, frog or boiled egg. Gretel nudged Claire’s hand with her nose. She laughed, shaking her head. “I’ll bring you apples tomorrow. You’re incorrigible.”

      Claire lay back in the lounge chair and mindlessly observed the clouds drifting across the sky. Spending time with Hansel and Gretel made up a little for what she’d had to deal with at the clinic today. Once again, passed over to assist Tammy in an operation. Put on cat-cage cleaning duty. This made three weeks in a row.

      She blew out a breath. She deserved better. If she didn’t get the position at the zoo, she would have to make some changes. Life was too short to work for someone who treated her like garbage.

      The otters stretched out in the sun for a nap. She’d wasted enough time thinking about her thankless job. A more important topic loomed.

      Reed. She’d checked on him the past two evenings, but Aunt Sally had been keeping vigil, and Reed had been asleep both times. Her dad helped Reed with basic care off and on during the day.

      Claire couldn’t get Reed out of her mind. And she needed to. He’d made it clear his home was in Chicago.

      What he’d revealed about his mom’s death—how his family treated him—still filled her with indignation. How could anyone disown a child? How painful it must have been for him to lose his mom and her family.

      Her chest burned the more she thought about it. No wonder he wasn’t into families. She probably wouldn’t be either if she’d gone through what he had. And it made her wonder about Reed’s dad. Roger hadn’t come over to check on Reed. Aunt Sally said Jake stopped by last night. But not his own father? Strange.

      Claire plodded inside to change. Her cooking skills clearly qualified her for the title of Worst Cook in America. At this point, a grilled cheese might be too much to hope for.

      The phone rang as she shimmied into her khaki shorts.

      “How’s my favorite niece?” Uncle Joe asked, not waiting for her to answer. “Sally got home early and made you and Reed dinner if you want to swing by and pick it up.”

      Claire almost purred. “You two are lifesavers. How did you know I dreaded having to deal with dinner?”

      “You never want to deal with dinner.” His raspy chuckle made her smile. “And you know your aunt. She lives to feed people. With the restaurant shut down, she’s going crazy. If she’s not cooking, she’s pestering.”

      “Well, tell her not to stop,” she said. “I’ll be right there. Don’t let any of my cousins steal my food either. I know how they are.”

      Claire slipped into her favorite sparkly black flip-flops, grabbed her purse and drove the mile to Uncle Joe and Aunt Sally’s house. Nestled on a wooded property, the ranch-style home hid behind a grove of evergreens. Claire parked next to her cousin’s beat-up truck and then loped to the front door. With a quick knock, she let herself in, calling, “It’s me.”

      “Come on in.” Aunt Sally beamed from behind the kitchen counter. The smell of fried chicken made Claire’s stomach rumble. Aunt Sally pushed a plate of cheese and crackers toward her. “Don’t worry, I didn’t let Braedon touch your takeout containers.”

      They had a running joke that Braedon, her twenty-five-year-old cousin who regularly stopped by for dinner, could eat a sumo wrestler under the table. Claire nibbled on a cracker. “Your hair looks fabulous. Have you heard anything about the restaurant? When do you think it will reopen?”

      “Thanks, hon.” She fluffed her bangs. “The insurance adjuster hasn’t been out, but he told us to use their contractor. We’ve called the guy and keep getting a machine. I don’t like that we can’t pick our own builder. We need the restaurant up and running. Where will everyone go for Friday fish fry? And now that the weather’s gotten nice, people are looking to eat on the patio by the lake. I don’t know what we’ll do if we can’t get opened again soon.”

      Claire hated to think of the restaurant shut down indefinitely, but she hadn’t gotten the nerve up to go back and see the damage for herself. The other night a sound from the television reminded her of the roof tearing off, and it had taken her ten minutes to calm down. “I’m praying.”

      “Thanks.” Sally sniffed. “We don’t have it as bad as most of the folks around here. Lois and Herb moved to a hotel twenty minutes away until their house gets fixed, and I don’t know how those Riley sisters are doing it, living with half a roof. Don’t get me started on Miss Gert.”

      “Miss Gert? Is Whiskers still missing?” Claire selected another cheese cube. “I thought Dad formed a search party.” Miss Gert was eighty-four, lived in a house so old it could have been built by Christopher Columbus himself and doted on her long-haired, extremely pudgy cat.

      “Oh, they found him all right. Eating a dead bird in that ramshackle barn behind her place. But she can’t keep Whiskers inside with her back room damaged. She’ll have a heart attack worrying. I told Dale to get some of the boys together and patch it up for her, but she thinks the noise will hurt poor Whiskers’s ears.”

      “Want me to go over and talk to her? Maybe I can take her to the grocery store or something while they do a quick repair job.”

      “Would