The customers bundled up with their prize. As they left, the wind ripped the door from the man’s hand and flung it wide, blowing in a spray of rain, dead leaves, and Marquetta. She shook raindrops from her slicker and reached for the security shutters’ switch. “Better close up shop, love. There’s a nasty storm rolling in. Library’s already closed. Lots of trees down on the north side. Power outages all over.”
All three of them jumped when a beer can hit the window with a loud thwack.
“Oh Lordy.” Zora pulled her raincoat over her patchwork tunic and wound a scarf around her poufy hair. “Hope it’s not as bad as that big blow in ’16. Come on, Gemma, help me with the awnings.”
“I’ll handle it.” The wind nearly lifted Gemma off her feet as she battled to fold up the awnings, but with the help of the real estate crew next door, she got the job done, then helped them lock down their storefront as well.
Back inside, she shook rain from her shoes. Should’ve worn boots today. Should’ve checked the weather report. Should’ve told Jesse how she felt before it was too late.
Marquetta threw her arm around Gemma’s shoulders. “You’ve never been here for a winter storm, have you? This is the kind that peels roofs off buildings. Fortunately, looks like Main Street will be spared. Storm’s heading southeast.”
Right toward Jesse.
Her heart thundered against her ribs. Her vision narrowed. An eerie sense of prescience plucked her nerves like an ill-tuned guitar.
Maybe he’d never love her. Maybe he never really had. But he loved that farmstead, and she couldn’t sit idly by waiting for the storm to wreck it. She had to help.
“I’ve gotta check on a friend. I’ll see you both back at home.” Grabbing her bag, she sprinted for her Jeep. After double-checking the doors and top were fastened down tight, she sped toward Jesse’s place. Her Wrangler shuddered as blasts of wind shoved it from side to side on the winding, two-lane road. Lightning struck too damn close, throwing everything into sharp relief—gyrating trees, driving rain, lonely houses. To her left, a pine swayed and toppled into the westbound lane. With a shriek of panic, Gemma yanked the steering wheel to dodge flying branches. The Jeep spun out and teetered on two wheels before landing upright with a bone-jarring thunk. Wind howled and thunder boomed while she fought to keep her heart from bursting through her chest.
“This is crazy. I should turn back.” But in her rearview mirror, she saw another pine crash to the asphalt. And another. The wind was ripping them out like weeds. No choice but to continue east.
She thanked the gods for four-wheel drive as she sloshed up Jesse’s gravel road. No lights in the house or outbuildings, but headlights from three pickups illuminated the herb greenhouse. Flashlight beams danced inside, and shouting voices carried over the wind. She gaped in horror as a mighty gust lifted the greenhouse’s roof. Most of it fell back into place, but one panel detached and sailed into the greenhouse to the right, smashing a hole in its side. Shards of plastic wall and torn plants flew in all directions.
Jesse’s farm was disintegrating before her eyes. She wrapped her jacket tight and sprinted for the herb house, fighting the gale with every step. As she yanked the door open, a tree branch crashed onto the roof, shattering another panel.
“Jesse!” She bolted into the wreckage. At the far end, Jesse and two other men were attempting to cover an herb bed with a tarp, but vicious gusts kept ripping it from their grip. She ran to join them and grabbed the tarp’s edge, hooking her fingers through the grommets. The taller blond guy nodded his thanks while the shorter, darker one weighted the tarp with bricks.
Eyes wide, Jesse spun toward her, his beautiful face contorted with fear and fury. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“I’ve got rope and bungee cords in the Jeep. Will that help?”
He shoved her toward the door. “Get your ass back home. It’s too dangerous out here.”
The guy with the bricks shook his head. “Trees are down between here and Trappers Cove. No one’s getting through tonight.”
She nodded. “One nearly hit me.”
Jesse crossed to her in two long strides and crushed her to his chest. His voice shook. “Jesus Christ, Gemma. If you got hurt, I’d never forgive you. Or myself.”
She shook too, from adrenaline and fear and the discovery that Jesse still cared for her. For one self-indulgent moment, she sank into his embrace and held on tight. Perhaps it wasn’t too late to change his mind. But this was not the time to delve into regrets and apologies, not with a greenhouse to save.
“The storm’s nobody’s fault, Jesse.” She wriggled from his grip. “Put me to work.”
He cupped her jaw with dirt-smeared hands. “Why did you come?”
“Because you were in frickin’ danger! And I still have feelings for you, okay? Now tell me what to do.”
Working side by side with Ryan, owner of the Salty Dog Saloon, and Ben, a nearby farmer, they covered the most vulnerable plants, patched the roof as best they could with plywood and tarps, then cranked up generators to keep the herbs from freezing. Hours later, it seemed, Jesse thanked his friends and sent them home. Ryan, who lived in town, went with Ben, who had a wood stove and generator.
“We’ll be back in the morning.” Ryan gave Jesse a brotherly arm punch. “So you better have a huge stack of pancakes waiting.”
“I’ll bring the bacon,” Ben added.
“Wow.” Gemma wiped dirt from her sweaty forehead as she watched them drive away. “Those guys must really love you.”
“Guess so.” Jesse rotated his shoulder and winced. “Ryan was out here trying to talk sense into my mopey ass. Ben called to warn us about the storm. We drove out to his place and made sure all the animals were secure in the barns. The sheep were panicked, running everywhere. If it weren’t for his dogs, he’d have lost the whole flock.” He leaned against a raised bed and heaved a sigh. “By the time we got back here, the wind was ripping the greenhouses like paper. The flower house is probably a total loss, but at least this one will stand.”
She peered through a ragged gap in the wall. “Wind’s dying down a little.”
