Page 15 of Alaskan Blackout
Her eyes scanned the message while Quinton spoke them aloud.
“Hurricane-force winds and fifty-foot waves predicted within the hour.” He shoved his phone in his back pocket while he came toward her. “Are you sure this is the safest place to be during this kind of storm?”
Her stomach dropped as she read more details of the message. Cyclone. Record low pressure system. Yes, she’d been through both before, but these storms could be scary as hell, the weather far different from anywhere else in the world, including mainland Alaska. The Bering Sea had a dramatic effect on the Aleutian Islands weather.
Outside the rain seemed to pummel the roof of the metal structure even harder, the wind whipping louder.
“Definitely not. And I have pets at home who need me.” She’d been careful to crate her Havanese, Loki, before coming into the bar today, but she knew he would worry if the weather worsened. Then there was her cat, Freya, who liked to act tough but always came to McKenna’s bed in a storm. “I have to get back to my house before this gets any worse.”
Berating herself for leaving the house in the first place, she reached for the heavy yellow coat she’d left flung over a chair near the workstation. She couldn’t bear the idea of anything happening to Clayton’s house. Or his bar. Or his boat. All things he’d generously given into her care, and she worked her butt off to maintain while he was away.
“I’ll drive you,” Quinton was already charging through the door to the front of the bar.
McKenna followed, picking up her purse on the way. “There’s no need—”
“Yes, there is—” he began, shoving his arms into the sleeves of his oilcloth coat.
It was the last thing she saw before the lights in the bar went out and everything went black.
Five
All the storm advice he’d ever heard cycled through Quinton’s brain as his eyes adjusted to the dark. But a cyclone? The weather up here was stormy and unpredictable at best. At worst... He didn’t want to know.
The sounds of the storm raged on, but in those moments after the power clicked off, his ears were most keenly attuned to McKenna’s breathing. Rapid. Shallow.
Raspy?
“Are you all right?” He reached for her, concern blotting out every other thought.
His hands found her arms, and he smoothed his way up the soft knit fabric of her dress. He could feel the echo of the fast, vaguely wheezy breaths in her shoulders as they moved up and down.
“I’ll be fine,” she spoke with slow deliberation, at odds with her quick exhales. “I have stress-induced asthma and the storm must be triggering it.” She paused to gulp air. “My inhaler is in the glove box of my truck.”
Worry for her spiked the anxiety already at a peak because of the winds picking up speed outside. That weather alert had said they could see hurricane-force gusts of well over one hundred miles per hour.
The outline of her became more visible as his eyes adjusted to the limited amount of gray daylight that found its way through a couple of small windows on the far side of the bar. Even though it was only midday, the sky was dark enough to pass for twilight.
“I’ll get it for you. Do you have your keys?” He’d noticed her truck out front when he’d pulled into the parking lot.
Since they were the only ones in the place, both vehicles were just steps from the front entrance.
“They’re right here.” She withdrew the ring from her dress pocket and passed it to him. “I just really need to get home.”
Quinton recognized her easy agreement as a testament to how she must feel. The woman had crossed swords with him at every turn, so for her to give up those keys that quickly told him all he needed to know about the importance of that inhaler.
“I’ll get you to your house as quickly as I can. But for now, wait here and I’ll be right back with your medicine,” he promised.
He could feel her body vibrate with the force of her shaky nod, grateful she hadn’t wasted words when breathing proved difficult.
Clutching her key ring in his fist, he yanked up the deep hood of his jacket as he moved toward the exit. A moment later, he was in the rain making the dash toward her vehicle. Water pelted his head and shoulders while he unlocked the passenger door and stood rifling through the contents of the glove box. Digging past fishing lures, a flashlight and spare wool hat, he found the inhaler. He didn’t spare the time to put everything back where he’d found it, instead just locking up the truck before jogging back to the entrance.
No sooner had he stepped through the door than he delivered her medicine. His eyes hadn’t yet adjusted to the dimmer light inside the bar when he heard the distinctive sound of the aerosol puff and McKenna dragging in a deep gasp.
Holding it.
He waited in silence, anxiety spiking as he remembered the last time he’d been by a woman’s side, listening to labored breaths. The memory of his mother’s death blindsided him, rocking him when he needed to think clearly.
McKenna had gotten under his skin too deep and too fast for him to make that connection. He did his damnedest to shove aside the dark thoughts and anchor himself in the moment instead. To just focus on McKenna. He didn’t want her to try speaking until her breaths came easily again.