Changing His Plans

by Jo McNally

  He’d tried to say something to Brittany about it when he saw her out walking that afternoon, with the ragtag little stray trotting at her side. He remembered the way she’d flinched at every roll of thunder that very first day she stumbled into his store and thought she might want to know. But she must have still been steamed about him putting a stop to that kiss a week ago, because she made a point to level him with her coolest gaze. Check that...make that her iciest gaze. And that woman could do icy really well.

  “Seriously, Nate? Just because I freaked out after walking into the world’s largest spiderweb doesn’t mean I need a babysitter for a rainstorm.” Yeah, her pride had been pricked, and she was making her independence known. So be it. She was right. She was a grown woman who’d made it very clear she did not want his help. Or his kisses.

  He heard the first rumbles of thunder in the distance around one o’clock in the morning. It was still a long way off, but the low grumbling sound was nearly constant, boom after boom after boom, with the echoes rolling over each other between the mountains. It sounded angry. He sat up and opened the radar app on his phone. Yikes. A long, sharp blob of red and purple on the screen was marching toward Gallant Lake, with multiple little lightning bolts popping all over the front line. Several colored triangles overlaid the radar, indicating locations of hail, high winds, severe storm warnings and even a tornado watch that covered most of the Catskills. Not good.

  He closed the bedroom windows and headed out to take care of the rest of the house. His gray tabby cat, Pepper, zigzagged around his feet, meowing loudly. The cat probably sensed the drop in air pressure. Nate closed the windows in the kitchen and dining room. The storm was getting louder with every step he took, the night sky flickering nonstop with light. By the time he reached the living room windows facing the lake, it was raining hard and the wind was starting to gust. He thought of Brittany, then dismissed it. Her little cabin was sturdy. Probably. He smiled as he picked up his cat. For sure with that metal roof, she was going to have a noisy night.

  Right on cue, hailstones started hitting the side of his house, and the power flickered and went out. Once the house went pitch-black, Pepper had no interest in being held. Since Nate had no interest in being shredded by those claws, he let the cat jump to the back of the sofa, thunder rattling the pictures on the wall. Within a minute the big generator outside fired up and the electric box switched over with a clunking sound. Let there be light. He’d bought the generator and had it hooked up to his propane tank a few years back, after an ice storm had left much of the town without power for days. It didn’t come on often, but he was glad for it tonight. It would keep the lights, fans and appliances going.

  The storm was right overhead now, and it was a doozy. Bad enough that Nate wondered how downtown and the store were making out. The lake looked wild whenever the lightning lit it up, which meant the boardwalk was at risk, too. Nah. He’d built that sturdy enough to survive a summer storm, even a crazy one like this. But it was intense—loud and bright, the lightning looking like strobe lights outside the windows. Aware of the cat still hiding under the sofa, he sat in his grandfather’s oversize rocking chair and watched the show. At one point the wind started howling so loudly that he moved the chair back from the windows, just in case. He was pretty sure some of the crashing sounds he heard out there were limbs, and possibly even trees, coming down. He thought again of Brittany, and now the thought left him unsettled. This was no “rainstorm.”

  This was a once-in-a-decade sort of storm, and suddenly he wasn’t sure exactly how sturdy those old camps really were. He got up and grabbed his heavy flashlight and rain slicker, then started lacing up his boots. As soon as things let up out there, he’d go check on her. Just as a good neighbor. To make sure things were okay. That she was okay. But there was nothing he could do right now, while the rain still lashed at the windows and the thunder sounded like someone was throwing sticks of dynamite around out there.

  * * *

  Brittany was pretty sure this was what the end of the world sounded like. The cottage shuddered in the wind. The rain and hail were making a hellish amount of noise on the metal roof. Joey had woken her not long ago, pawing at her ribs and whining. Brittany had blinked and rolled over, muttering at the dog and hoping to get back to sleep. Then the room erupted in a flash of blinding blue-yellow light, followed almost instantly by an explosion so loud she thought the propane tank outside may have blown up. Joey bolted off the bed, with Brittany right behind him. She dashed around the house in her pajama shorts and cami, struggling to close windows against the wind that came out of nowhere, creating horizontal rain. Joey was right at her heels, barking in an even more elevated pitch than usual. He was not helping her nerves.

  There are storms headed this way tonight. You might want...

  She’d cut Nate off that afternoon before he could finish offering whatever help or advice he was going to offer. He was such a fuddy-duddy, worrying about weather as if she was a child who couldn’t handle a summer storm. As if that stupid kiss—the one she couldn’t stop dreaming about—meant he had a right to offer her advice. Like they were in a relationship or something.

  As the storm increased in intensity, she started to wonder. Maybe...just maybe...she should have listened to him. But then again...she had it under control. Sure, it was loud, but loud couldn’t hurt you, right? Just as she closed the small window over the sink, congratulating herself for making the cottage watertight, she noticed water seeping under the closed windows in the living room. Brittany grabbed some towels from on top of the washing machine and dashed toward the windows to stop the leak.

  She was halfway across the room when the lights went out. If she thought the lightning was bright before, it was blinding when it cut through the pitch darkness. It was also nearly nonstop, which at least allowed her to pick her way over to the windows in the light, rolling up the towels and lining the windowsills with them.

  Okay. This was fine. It was storming, but that was outdoors, and she was inside. Even Joey seemed to sense safety, because he stopped barking for a moment. The silence was a blessing, and Brittany took in a steadying breath. She was just letting it out slowly when the front door blew open with a crash, hitting the side table and sending a glass bowl to the floor. Her own scream drowned out Joey’s hysterical barking. Brittany ran to close the door, thankful she’d slipped on those flip-flops that Nate had given her in the hardware store.

  She got the door closed, but the wind was so strong that it wouldn’t stay latched, so she turned and put her back against it, bracing her legs to hold it shut. Was this a tornado? Was she about to go to Oz? One thing was certain—this shack wouldn’t be able to sustain much more wind like this. She couldn’t even go to a safe place, if there was such a thing in this thing, because if she moved, the door would open and bring the storm inside. Something was rattling and banging overhead... The roof? Was she going to die in this rustic fish camp in a little town no one had ever heard of? The door pushed against her back, like some monster was trying to force its way in. Surely, this wouldn’t last much longer. There were frightening noises outside...an unearthly ripping sound, like something large being torn apart, then an enormous crash that shook the house. How much longer was this going to last?

  It seemed like forever that she stood there, holding the door closed by sheer willpower, listening to Joey lose his mind barking while flashes of light flickered past the windows. But the storm, as all storms did, eventually began to settle. The thunder was farther away, slower to come after the flashes of lightning. The roar of rain on the roof began to level off, and finally, mercifully, the wind settled from hurricane-force to just plain windy. She stayed against the door, partly out of fear it might still whip open, and partly because less frequent lightning meant less frequent light. The cabin was pitch-dark between strikes. There was an old jarred candle in the kitchen, but were there matches anywhere? A flashlight? Oh...her phone. Where was it
? She leaned her head back against the door. Her phone was all the way in the bedroom, still attached to a useless charger. She took another deep breath, pulling her shoulders up and giving herself a quick pep talk. Surely, she could get in there without tripping over anything.

  She did, with Joey’s help. The dog kept dashing in front of her, so she’d listen to his nails clicking on the wood floor and follow the sound. It may have been a zigzagging path, but she didn’t fall. She grabbed her phone, turned on the flashlight and set it on the bed pointing up. Her striped Brooks Brothers shirt hung on the bedpost, and she shrugged it on like a robe. The tails hung down over her pajama shorts, but who cared? She just wanted to step outside and make sure the cottage was still in one piece. Not to mention her rental car. Very practical of her. Very mature. Not the actions of a woman who’d just faced down death.

  She looked down at Joey and swallowed hard, forcing a smile on her face. For the dog’s sake, of course. “We got this, right? Totally. We got this.”

  They were almost back to the front door when there was a banging sound and the door flew open. As if that wasn’t frightening enough, a quick flash of lightning showed the outline of a man in the doorway. Once again she and Joey made their noise in unison. Joey charging forward, snarling and barking, and Brittany... She opened her mouth to scream, but never heard it before everything went dark and silent.

  “Brittany? Brittany? Wake up, girl.”

  A familiar voice came from over her head. How did someone get over her head? And why couldn’t she see them? Oh...she had to open her eyes first. Eh, maybe later. Right now she felt very comfortable in this person’s arms. She wasn’t alone anymore, the storm was over and she was safe. She felt safer than she had in years. That was weird. Oh, there was that voice again.

  “Brittany?” A hand gently moved over her hair, as if checking for damage. “Are you hurt? Come on—open those eyes and yell at me so I know you’re okay.”

  Nate? Was that Nate? Her eyes flew open, but she was still disoriented. A lantern of some sort was sitting on the floor, throwing odd shadows around the cottage. She and Nate were on the floor, too. And he was holding her against his chest. She was so confused. Had the storm been a bad dream? But what was Nate doing here? Maybe this was the dream. She took a few deep, quick breaths and her voice returned.

  “What happened?”

  “There was a storm...”

  Irritation rushed up inside her. She didn’t like being at a disadvantage like this. She pushed away from him and sat up.

  “I know there was a storm. What are you doing here? Why are we...?” She gestured between them. And there it was—the tiniest of quirks at the corner of his mouth. Nate Thomas’s perpetual amusement with her.

  “I came to check on you and apparently scared the daylights out of you. You fainted.”

  “I did not.” There was no way that she just fainted in front of Nate Thomas.

  His mouth slid into a real smile now. “I’m afraid you did. It was my fault, though. I probably looked like Freddy Krueger standing in the doorway. Sorry.” He reached out and smoothed her hair. He smoothed her hair! She swatted his hand away, but his smile didn’t budge. “I take it you didn’t hurt yourself, then?”

  “No.” Her voice cracked. Her anger refused to stay in place. She just didn’t have the energy to sustain it. “I’m not hurt. I...I can’t believe I did that. I’ve never fainted in my life.” She blinked, rubbing her face with her shaking hands. The adrenaline rush was wearing off, chased by exhaustion. “The door wouldn’t stay shut...the wind... I had to lean on it to hold it shut the whole time...” She looked up at him. “What the hell was that? A tornado?”

  “I don’t think so, but it’s too soon and too dark to tell. It seemed more like straight-line winds, but it was wilder than anything I’ve seen in years.” He looked toward the door. “If you were standing at that door the whole time, you got lucky. That big maple just missed hitting you—it came down right outside that side of the cabin.”

  That must have been the horrible sound she’d heard in the storm. The death throes of that huge tree. She looked around the room, moving to get up, her heart racing.

  “Where’s Joey? You didn’t let him out, did you?”

  Nate put his hand on her arm to stop her from standing, then gave a short, sharp whistle through his teeth. Joey came out from behind the sofa, looking sheepish, but his tail was wagging. He burrowed into Brittany’s arms, and she buried her face in his scraggly fur.

  “What are you, the animal whisperer?”

  He shrugged, but there was an odd look in his eye as he watched her snuggle the dog.

  “I’d like to claim credit, but your dog would never leave here without you.”

  “He’s not my dog.” The response was fast. Automatic. Emphatic. Just like her denial of fainting. Then Joey licked her face. Nate shook his head.

  “Yeah, okay.”

  Her brain was still short-circuiting a little. She couldn’t focus when she looked into Nate’s warm eyes. It must be because of the whole fainting thing. It had nothing to do with the crazy idea in her head that she wouldn’t mind if he kissed her right now. Even though she’d told him to never even think about doing that again. She blinked. Stop thinking about kissing.

  “Uh...something was loose and banging on the roof during the storm.”

  He glanced up. “Might be a loose piece of metal. I’m sure Vince will be out to check on things, but I’ll text him. One of the vacant cabins took a hard hit from a pine tree in one corner.”

  She stared at his profile as he continued looking at the ceiling. Even from this angle, in the muted light of the lantern, all of his lines were soft. Strong. Inviting.

  “Why?” Oh, God, she’d blurted that out loud.

  Nate looked back to her. “Why what?”

  “Oh, uh...why are you here?”

  He grinned, leaning back against the sofa and stretching one leg out in front of him, resting his arm on his other knee. “Do you mean existentially or just here in this cabin?”

  “Ha ha. Why did you come here—” she gestured toward his wet hair and soaked clothing “—in the pouring rain? The storm wasn’t even over yet.”

  “I’m not a fool—I waited until it was pretty much over. As far as why, I came to check on you and your mutt.” He ruffled Joey’s fur. “And now I think you two had better come back to my place.”

  “What? No, I’m...”

  “Brittany, I have a generator. Lights. Power. Hot water. A sound roof.” He stood, extending his hand to help her up. “And a guest room. No ulterior motives here. But first I want to check on how the rest of the town made out.” He pulled out his phone and started tapping, glancing at her exposed legs. “Take the lantern and go grab some clothes. And actual shoes. It won’t be safe walking out there like that.”

  She realized all she was wearing was her long-tailed striped shirt, pajamas and...bare skin. Her cheeks warmed, and she turned away as she heard him speak into his phone.

  “Dan? Yeah, I know you’re swamped. Have you been down Main Street yet?” He listened, his shoulders relaxing. “Good news. How’s your place? Mack and Chloe?” He glanced at his watch, then arched a brow at Brittany when he saw she was still standing there, watching and listening over her shoulder. He gestured with his hand for her to get going. She nodded and followed the unspoken order. This was no time for her to be stubborn about being bossed around. As she got to her door, she heard him asking Dan a question. “Where do you need me?”

  Chapter Nine

  Nate set his chain saw on the ground and sat on a log from an enormous old oak tree that had fallen during the storm. It was now in large heavy sections, and no longer blocking the driveway. He and a crew of volunteers were at the Halcyon property, where they’d gone after clearing trees at the Gallant Lake Resort next door. Halcyon was an actual castle, on the historic reg
ister. It was also a family home to the owners of the resort, Blake and Amanda Randall. Blake sat next to him with a loud groan.

  “Are we done yet? I seriously don’t think my back can take much more.”

  Nate huffed out a short, tired laugh of understanding. Despite their differences in the past, Blake was a good guy, and an avid hiker and fisherman when he had the time. But he’d be the first to admit he was more at home behind a desk than cutting logs in the half-light of predawn. He owned a half dozen resorts in addition to his home base here in Gallant Lake and was probably worth millions. But you’d never know it right now, as Blake looked up to the stone mansion he’d brought back to life a few years ago.

  He’d originally wanted to tear the place down, when Nate had led a local group who fought him in court to preserve Halcyon. Now that century-old house, and his family within it, was the most important thing in the world to Blake. And he and Nate had worked out a truce and tentative friendship after the court battles. The power was still out across the valley, so the windows of Halcyon were dark, and the pink-hued granite looked gray and blurry in the soft light. Blake clapped Nate on the back.

  “Thank you for your help, especially at the resort. We couldn’t afford to have access blocked for guests or emergency vehicles.”

  Nate nodded. “No problem. Any damage to any buildings that you know of?”

  “A few leaking windows at the resort during the worst of it, when it was raining sideways. The clubhouse at the golf course had some water damage when one of the doors flew open.” He glanced up at the castle with a grin. “This old place took it without flinching. My daughter was crying during the storm, but Amanda told Maddy that Halcyon would never fall.” His smile deepened. “And there’s the real man of the house.” He waved to the tall, dark-haired teenager walking toward them. Zachary Randall was Blake’s nephew, but Blake and Amanda had adopted him after his mother died. That was six years ago, when the boy had been only ten. The year Blake and Amanda had met and married.