Riding the Storm Read Free Page B

a large room, which appeared to be a general meeting area. Cabinets, shelves and a small kitchenette lined one wall, and tables and chairs were scattered about the room. Following Mitch’s direction, Nate set the cratesdown on one of the countertops and followed the chief back outside, passing Dana, Cheryl and Amy in the hall along the way. Each carried equipment and supplies.
    “I can read the doubt in your eyes.” Mitch might be a blustery worrywart, but Nate had already realized he possessed a lot more depth than his good-ol’ boy facade let on. “You’re thinking we’re some backwash little town with more heart than common sense.”
    “I didn’t say—”
    “I’ll have you know we’ve got an ample supply of both.”
    Mitch shoved a couple of paramedic kits into Nate’s hands. “We aren’t as slick an operation as Dan runs back in California. We don’t have the resources or the personnel that you’re used to. And, yeah, I’m worried. This is my town and these are my people who are at risk.”
    He picked up the last kit himself and closed the vehicle doors. When Mitch stopped to look him in the eye, Nate realized the barrel-chested man stood as tall as his own six feet. “But make no mistake. We’re tough here in Turning Point. Resourceful. My staff might not have your formal training or wear a uniform or keep a regular schedule. But when the chips are down, you can rely on ’em.”
    The pride and certainty in Mitch’s tone and posture brooked no argument. Whatever doubts this man had about the storm—about the next several hours of this dull, drizzly day—he had none regarding the people of his community.
    Nate wasn’t sure if the chief’s remarks had been a dressing-down or a pep talk, but he got the idea.
    Maybe he should have a little faith, too.
    “All right.” He nodded his head in lieu of a salute. “I promise I’ll keep an open mind about the way you run things here in Texas.”
    “Just do your job, Kellison.” Mitch’s gruff expression eased into a grin as he headed for the station door. “Just do your job.”
    “Not a problem.”
    The splash of tires over wet pavement ended the discussion. Nate turned at the sound of two quick honks of a horn and saw a dark green, extended cab pickup truck zip into the parking lot. The driver of the pickup spun into a space opposite Mitch’s Suburban and jolted to a stop.
    Nate admired the brawny truck while bemoaning the merciless treatment of its shocks. “Looks like your first volunteer.”
    “Oh, no.” Mitch didn’t sound nearly as relieved as a man in dire need of help should be when the cavalry started to arrive. “No, no. Not today, baby.”
    Baby?
    Mitch shoved the paramedic kit into Nate’s already full arms and hurried over to the truck, where a sunny-haired woman in a pair of baggy overalls and scuffed-up Lacer boots climbed out. Instead of politely excusing himself and joining the rest of his team inside, Nate stayed on the front sidewalk and adjusted his load, half-hidden by the translucent mist as he watched the scene unfold.
    He was scoping out the volunteers he’d be working with, he rationalized. Staying close to offer Mitch whatever backup he might need, since this woman’s arrival had obviously upset him. Nate narrowed his gaze totake note of every detail that weather and distance allowed him to assess.
    The woman wore her butterscotch cream hair pulled back in a straight, practical ponytail. The long strands hung past the collar of her man-size, bright green polo shirt. She might be a tad on the skinny side, though her bulky clothes and above-average height could be playing tricks on his perception. She had a definite spring to her step.
    And quite possibly the bluest eyes he’d ever seen.
    As she circled to the rear of the truck to greet Mitch, her face came into sharper focus. Nate’s fine-tuned senses responded with something more than curiosity. Her eyes were as cool and blue as a pristine mountain lake. She was