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"Thanks, Pops."
"Listen, son, this storm is a bugger. It's already causing serious problems everywhere. You take care of yourself, okay?"
"Yes, sir. Will do." Noah spotted the group of officials walking toward the crowd. "Looks like they've got an update. I better go."
"Yep. I'll reach out to Devon now."
His dad hung up without further conversation. The man didn't like phone calls or goodbyes, and never bothered with extraneous words. The call ended when it ended. The normality of his dad's actions grounded Noah.
"Folks, if I can have your attention, please?" The crowd turned as one to the pilot standing next to an official looking local man. "We're dealing with a couple of issues here. First, we can't take off until we get a replacement part. Second, the storm has strengthened and is causing havoc around the country, meaning we're not getting that part anytime soon." A collective groan rose through the crowd and the airplane captain made a calming motion with his hands to quiet everyone. "This is Mayor Balfour of Leesburgh, the nearest town. Mr. Balfour?"
Noah walked back over to stand by Claire as the men spoke. She threw a worried glance in his direction before looking back at the speakers, where the smaller man stepped up to address the crowd.
"Hello. I'm sorry you've arrived at our fair village under such circumstances. We're working to find accommodations for everyone here in town and will provide transportation to one of our lovely hotels while we get everything sorted."
The crowd started asking questions as Noah's phone vibrated in his hand with a text from his father.
Got you two booked at a local B&B. Devon is on his way to the airport now to fetch you and your workmate.
Noah half-listened to the update. Neither the pilot nor the town official offered any solid answers to the crowd. They couldn't say how long it would take to get the needed part, nor how long the repair would take once they received the part. Additionally, the storm was getting bigger, which complicated everything. One passenger suggested getting a ride to Inverness and trying to catch another flight from the bigger airport, but that seemed dubious.
While the crowd was still shouting their questions to the poor chaps in charge of this mess, Noah gathered their things. Claire noticed and followed his lead. He guided them toward the main doors and found an open spot by the window where they could watch for his dad's friend.
"I see my bag." Claire's statement brought his attention to the side door across the hall.
"I'll watch our things if you want to grab it," he volunteered.
She peered at him, taking his measure. "What have you cooked up?"
"It's always food with you, isn't it?" He grinned. "I got us a ride separate from this group. Who knows how long we'll be here—wet and miserable—if we wait on them to finish arguing. Fetch your bag and wheel it back here so we can jet when he gets here."
She gave him a mock salute and headed off to do what he asked. He'd expected an argument, so her immediate compliance surprised him. He wondered if she was as shaken up over their emergency landing as he was. Despite his projected calm, his hands were shaking and it wasn't from the cold.
The crowd behind him was still bemoaning their plight when Noah spotted the van turning into the car park. A small, wiry man decked in rain gear hopped out and made his way to the building. Noah held the door open for him as he approached, the wind blowing water into the lobby.
"Devon?" he asked.
"Aye. You must be Oliver's boy. Ye look just like 'im." The man held out his hand and Noah shook it. A rough, callused hand briefly grasped his before letting go. "Except bigger." Devon, similar in age to his father, laughed at some inside joke.
"I'm Noah and this is my workmate, Claire. Pops said you'd gotten us set up somewhere?" Noah pulled on his coat and grabbed his bags.
"Aye. But ye're not the only ones who called. I got you two into the last room. Let me check in with the mayor and fetch the others, then we'll be on our way. Sit tight."
"Thanks," Noah said as the man strode to the counter occupied by the officials in charge. He replayed the conversation in his head. Something Devon had said wasn't sitting right. His gut churned with an uneasy feeling he'd missed something crucial.
"You got us rooms s-somewhere?" Claire asked.
The stutter caught his attention. She was shivering and her lips were turning blue. He searched the lobby and spotted a staff member passing out the blankets they'd brought in earlier for the passengers.
"Yes. Hang on." He crossed the room, grabbed two, and returned in a few strides.
He draped one around Claire's shoulders. When she fumbled freeing her hair, he gently lifted her silky red curls and let them fall over the blanket. Jenny was right. Claire's hair was seductively soft. He let the strands slide through his fingers, reluctant to let go.
Only then did he realize how cold he was too. The adrenaline must be wearing off. He set down his things and wrapped the second blanket around himself, the chill finally sinking in.
Soon, Devon returned with several more passengers and ushered them into the van with practiced efficiency. The drive was tense—rain lashed the windows and lightning lit up the sky—but Devon's steady stream of local trivia kept everyone calm.
They dropped off the other passengers at the larger hotel before pulling up to a stone house with beautiful woodwork and a welcoming glow in the windows.
