She nodded. “Well, I’m sure he’ll find some sort of shelter tonight. Dogs have a good sense of weather and hopefully he’ll find a safe haven at the first scent of thunder.”
That made him feel better in general, but he still didn’t want to leave her. “Well, stay safe,” he heard himself saying.
She bit her lip and grabbed him into a hug. “You too.”
He froze for a moment, then pulled her tighter against him, breathing in the scent of her skin, her hair, so in need of her against him that he’d lost all ability to think.
A streak of lightning lit the sky, followed by another boom of thunder, and Claire pulled away.
“You’d better get home,” she said.
I don’t want to leave you, was all he could think. If he had had Hank with him, he might have found a way to invite himself in for the night, just to make sure she would be safe.
He forced himself to his car. I don’t want to leave you echoed in his head to the point that it was louder than the rain beating against the windshield.
* * *
By seven o’clock, the rain was coming down so hard, talk of the tornado watch on the TV news freaked him out to the point that he couldn’t just stay home. He had to check on the sisters, on the shelter and on the barn animals, who were all alone on Whitaker Acres. He packed up a sleeping bag, Hank’s favorite bed, food and water for both of them, his phone and charger, put on his trusty L.L.Bean raincoat and muck boots and headed out.
He drove over to Furever Paws first, the concrete building strong and sturdy in the beating rain. He’d called ahead to let the two volunteers know he was coming to check on them and to see if they needed anything. They said they’d thought of everything but extra batteries for their flashlights, and asked if he happened to have any, so he brought two ten packs that he’d had in his kitchen drawer. He found them safe and sound and playing cards in the basement. Some of the dogs were howling. The tremblers who were scared of thunder were in the farmhouse with the sisters. The cats all seemed okay.
Next he drove over to the farmhouse and found Birdie and Bunny hunkered down in their basement with the special-needs dogs and cats and any ones who’d been particularly frightened in their kennels, all in thunder shirts with extra blankets to cozy up in. The geese were in a large pen.
Three booms in a row were so loud that Matt felt them in his chest. “I’m going to stay the night in the barn,” he shouted above the noise. “I’ll watch over the animals and be close by if you need me.”
“Oh, Matt, bless you,” Bunny said.
Birdie grabbed him in a hug.
He raced out to his car, his raincoat soaking wet in just seconds. He drove the one minute down the gravel road to the big barn, the windshield wipers on their fastest setting unable to keep up with the pounding rain and winds. He covered himself with a tarp and grabbed the sleeping bag and Hank’s bed under it, then darted into the barn, setting up their sleeping quarters on the far side where there were no windows. The rain beat down on the roof so loud he was surprised the llamas and goats weren’t trembling in their pens. The crazy thing was that the worst of the storm hadn’t even started.
He went back out to the car, backing it up as close to the entrance as he could, then opened the door for Hank to jump out. He ran inside, his fur wet, and gave himself a good shake.
Matt grabbed a towel from his backpack and dried him off, giving him a pat. “You can go lie down and try to relax, buddy,” he said. “It’s gonna be a long night.”
Another crack of thunder exploded, and Hank lifted his head from the bed. The white noise machine he’d brought to try to counteract the thunder was useless since the booms were so loud. The llamas and pigs were a noise machine in themselves; no one would be getting any sleep tonight, that was for sure.
His phone pinged with a text—from the National Weather Service. This is a weather alert. The tornado watch is now a tornado warning. The alert repeated three times.
Matt gasped. “Oh hell.”
Panic gripped him as the winds began to howl. Another boom of thunder hit so loud that Matt put his arms around Hank. The senior dog didn’t seem afraid of the noise, but he’d let out a low growl indicating he sure didn’t like it. Neither do I, buddy. Grabbing his phone, he sent up a silent prayer for cell service, relief washing over him when he was able to call the Whitaker sisters. They assured him they were fine, safe in the basement with their motley crew of dogs, cats and geese, and she and Bunny were playing cards and having those robin cookies that Doc J had brought. He didn’t know Birdie Whitaker all that well, but something told him she kept her fears to herself. If she needed him, he had a good feeling she’d call right away.
Another crack of thunder hit, lightning streaking across the sky. He thought of Claire, alone in the house with the timid Blaze, and tried to call her, but the screen on his phone flashed No Service. No, no, no. His chest got tight and his heart started beating too fast. He needed to be able to hear that she was okay. He needed to be reachable for the Whitaker sisters. Dammit!
He checked his phone again a few minutes later. Same thing. No Service.
He thought he heard a car door slam right outside the doors to the barn. Hank stood up, staring at the doors. “It’s okay, buddy. I’ll go check it out.”
He unlatched the doors and threw the left side open. Claire’s SUV was there, the lights shining. What the hell?
He ran over to the car just as she got out.
“I have to get Blaze!” she shouted over the crashing sounds of the storm. “He’s in his kennel!”
“I’ll get the kennel,” he shouted back. “You grab your stuff.”
She nodded, and he hurried to the trunk and popped it open, grabbing the kennel, which was covered with a small lined tarp.
“I’ve got you, Blaze. It’s gonna be okay,” he said in what he hoped was a soothing tone. He felt anything but soothed. He rushed the kennel inside the barn and set it down, and when Claire dashed in with her bags, he closed the barn door and latched it again.
“Claire, how could you risk it?” he asked, staring at her.
She shoved off the hood of her raincoat, her blond hair dry in a low ponytail. “I couldn’t sit at home knowing the barn animals were here alone. I just couldn’t.”
She knelt down in front of Blaze’s kennel and opened it. The dog put his snout and one paw hesitantly out onto the barn floor, then slowly came out all the way and looked around. He saw Hank over on his bed and walked over, giving a sniff, then cautiously put a paw on the bed to see how Hank would respond. Because Hank was awesome, he lay his head on the far side of the bed to make room for the smaller dog, who stepped in and curled up alongside Hank’s big body.
For a moment, they both watched the dogs settle, and Matt felt more at ease, knowing the timid Blaze would be watched over by Hank tonight.
“Me too,” he said. “I should have let you know I was planning to come out here. I tried to call you a minute ago, but there’s no cell service.”
“I’m glad you didn’t reach me,” she said.
“Why?” He held her gaze.
“Because I might not have come. And then I wouldn’t be with you right now. And I need to be with you right now, Matt.”
He unzipped her soaked raincoat and helped her out of it, then hung it up on a peg next to his. He got his jacket off, and then, before he could stop himself, he pulled Claire into his arms. “It’s going to be okay. I checked on the shelter and the sisters. Everyone’s fine. Did you hear the watch has turned into a warning? And that it’s supposed to strike over Spring Forest?”
She nodded, her face draining of color. “I heard on the way over. Thank God I left when I did, or I wouldn’t have been able to come at all. I would have been worried sick about the barn animals here all alone.” She smiled and looked at him. “I should have known you’d come.”
“I should have known you’d come. Want me to grab anything from your car?” he asked.
“I just brought my backpack with supplies for Blaze and some water and granola bars.” She clunked herself on the forehead with her palm. “Oh no, I forgot my sleeping bag at home.”
“Guess we’ll have to share mine,” he said, pointing at the rolled-up green nylon pack near Hank’s bed. “If you want,” he added. “Or you could have it, and I’ll make do with the extra blanket I brought. I saw a stack of blankets on a shelf too.”
She glanced to where he pointed. “They’re for the animals. Those blankets smell like goat and llama.”
“So you’ll save me from that?” he asked with a smile.
She nodded. “Thanks for offering to share your sleeping bag.”
She was thanking him? When he’d get to spend a scary, crazy night with Claire spooned against him, safe and sound? “Blaze looks like he’s doing okay,” he said, his gaze on the black-and-white dog calmly lying between Hank and the wall.
Claire smiled. “I think Blaze found his safe space for tonight. Thanks, Hank.”
His heart was practically bursting with how much he cared about this woman, how much he wanted her, needed her.
Over the next couple of hours, the power went out, so Matt set up a couple of flashlights to provide illumination. There was little to do but listen to the rain pound against the barn. Both of them were too wired to talk much. At around midnight, Claire slid into the sleeping bag with a yawn.
“I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep,” she said.
Matt slid in beside her. They were so close. To the point he could feel her body heat. “Me either.”
When a crack of thunder boomed and Claire almost jumped, Matt laid a comforting, heavy hand on her shoulder and then smoothed her hair back from her face. “It’s okay, everything is going to be okay.” Her eyes looked heavy, as though he was lulling her to sleep, and he hoped that would be the case. Her lids fluttered closed, her breathing soft and steady, and he realized she had fallen asleep. In his arms.
He closed his eyes, his chin resting against her head. He could stay like this forever. Without the tornado, of course.
A noise unlike any Matt had ever heard raged outside, and he started, bolting upright. He’d fallen asleep too. Claire popped up, disoriented, fear in her eyes as a strange howling wind raged outside. The dogs were standing pressed against the barn wall, Blaze trying to get between his protector, Hank, and the wood.
The tornado. Oh God.
The howling was downright scary—from the winds and the dogs now, both of whom were reacting.
“I wish we could do something,” she said. “I hate that it has to run its course. Who knows what’s going on out there? The damage it’s causing.” Her eyes were wet from unshed tears.
He reached for her and she melted against him. “We just have to ride it out. I’m gonna go check on the animals.”
“Keep your distance, just in case they spook,” she said.
“Birdie and Bunny warned me about that,” he said with something of a smile. He got out of the sleeping bag, immediately cold and missing being so close to Claire. His flashlight guiding the way, he walked to the far end of the barn and turned into the corral area, immediately spotting the big pink pig with his head half-hidden under some hay. “Good idea, buddy,” he said.
In the next pen were the four goats, and they were all huddled against one another in the tiny house a volunteer had made for them and given to the Whitaker sisters for Christmas last year.
The llamas, Drama and Llama Bean, were standing and looking like nothing got them down. They both eyed him and stepped to the edge of the pen.
“It’s almost over,” he assured them. “Just got to get through tonight, and tomorrow everything will be better.”
A good metaphor for life and tough times, he thought. He sent up a silent prayer that Birdie and Bunny and the volunteers and all the Furever Paws animals were holding up okay, then he came back into the main area of the barn.
With the tornado roiling toward them, they’d just have to huddle together like the goats and hope like hell the damage was minimal.
Matt lay back down in the sleeping bag, and Claire did the same, this time facing the dogs. He spooned against her, his arm around her, and she grabbed on to his hand. Their flashlights were within reaching distance, next to their backpacks and water bottles, in case they needed to make a quick escape. He’d read that a tornado could last anywhere from a few seconds to an hour. He’d also heard on one news station that a recent tornado had lasted for three hours.
“It sounds like a freight train,” she said, her voice choked.
He pulled himself tighter against her, holding on for dear life. He’d made a promise to himself and Claire—without her knowing it—that he wouldn’t touch her, that he’d keep his hands and lips to himself. He wanted to break that promise right now, but he knew come morning, when everything was a wreck, he’d need to be strong for her, the sisters and for the animals.
Besides, he’d have to walk away soon enough. So keep his hands to himself, he would.
* * *
Claire’s eyes popped open in the dark. Matt was silent and unmoving beside her; he’d stayed up well past 2:00 a.m., a fact she knew because that was the last time she’d jerked awake from the noise and he’d wrapped his arm around her, burrowing his chin into her hair. Every time he’d done that, she’d felt safe and secure enough to actually fall asleep, but she had a feeling Matt hadn’t slept a wink.
Before she’d driven out to the barn, she’d put on her old battery-operated watch just in case the power went out, and she was glad she did. It was almost four o’clock now. The winds were howling. She’d heard crashes earlier, possibly trees falling, and she prayed the big oaks on the property wouldn’t land on any of the buildings. The tornado had stopped, and she was glad Matt had finally fallen asleep. It was pitch-dark outside, the rain still beating down and the thunder still crackling.
His eyes opened, and he seemed to be straining to listen. “The howling stopped. Still pouring, though.”
“We made it through.”
He grabbed the smaller flashlight and shone it on the dog bed. Hank and Blaze were curled up tightly next to each other. “They seem okay.”
She nodded. “I’m so glad they had each other for the worst of it.”
“Like us,” he said.
“Like us,” she agreed.
She could barely see him in the dark, but she could feel him, breathing beside her, the very presence of him. They were just inches apart.
“I want to go out there with the flashlight and assess the damage,” he said.
“In the morning,” she whispered. “The flashlight can’t illuminate everything, and who knows what debris is out there or broken branches that could fall any minute.”
He nodded. “I had a nightmare earlier. Not the same one I used to have about the explosion. This time it was about you.”
“Me? I’m the subject of your nightmares? Great.” She tried to inject some levity into her voice, afraid he’d turn away from her and go curl up with the dogs.
“You were running in the dark, thunder booming around you and lightning streaking above your head. Tree limbs were falling everywhere. I was standing up ahead and you were running toward me, but you never got closer. It was so strange. I couldn’t move a step toward you. I was scared to death you were going to be hurt right in front of me.”
“Was I?”
“I woke up,” he said.
“What do you think the dream meant?” she asked. Because if he was about to read too much into it, she wanted to be able to refute his interpretation.
“It means what it is.”
“What it is?” she repeated. “What is it?”
“That I’m supposed to let you go, even if I don’t wa
nt to.”
Now she was glad she asked. “You’re not supposed to. You’re choosing to, Matt. You’re the one standing in our way. Your way.”
“For good reason,” he said.
“No, for no reason.”
“I really love you, Claire,” he said, his voice breaking. “I always have. But you’ve always deserved better.”
“I don’t get a say?”
He shook his head. “You’re romanticizing the past. You always were a romantic.”
“Me? Hardly. You’re the romantic, Matt. Except in this case, you’re turning our would-be love story into an almost-tragedy.”
“I’ll stay in town long enough to help Birdie and Bunny with any cleanup efforts, but then I’m leaving.”
“Great. Hurt us both. Good going, Fielding.”
“When you’re married to a great guy who can give you the world, you’ll be glad I was willing to walk away.”
“I don’t want the world, Matt. I just want you. I’ve only ever just wanted you.”
He shook his head again, but she reached both hands to his face and kissed him so that he couldn’t say anything else. No more talking. No more. He was leaving. Their second chance was a lost cause. She would have to accept it.
“Do something for me, then, Matt,” she whispered.
“Anything.”
“Give me a last night with you. Let’s just have tonight and then you can go.”
“I made myself promise I wouldn’t touch you.”
“You get to change your own rules,” she pointed out. Please let that sink into his stubborn head. You get to change your own rules.
“You have no idea how much I want you,” he said.
“Show me, then,” she said.
He kissed her, peeling off her thermal shirt. His warm hands on her skin were electrifying. She reached down and undid the tie on the waistband of his sweatpants. And then he moved over her, his hands and mouth everywhere.
A New Leash On Love (Furever Yours Book 1) Page 16
