Steadfast Soldier
Cheryl Wyatt
Rescuing people is his job…But the one person pararescue jumper Chance Garrison can't seem to help is his own ailing father, who refuses his much-needed physical rehabilitation. That is, until Chance hires unconventional occupational therapist Chloe Callet. To his surprise, Chloe and her sweet black Lab, Midnight, work wonders. And not only on the elder Garrison. Chance just may have met the woman who can get through his own toughened exterior. Can he persuade the lovely Chloe to take a chance–on him?
“You’re the only one here who totally gets me and my concern for these animals. It’d mean a lot if you’d hike with me,” Chance said.
Chance’s life had been bereft of joy for the past six months. How could she consider denying him this one small pleasure?
“I, um, I’m not sure that—”
He smiled. “Please? For me?” He wove his arm through hers and slid his strong, warm hand down until their hands met palm-to-palm.
His touch branded in her a deep and irrefutable knowing.
This is meant to be.
Awestruck, she felt her heart leap inside her.
The world around the two of them faded away. All the personal protests and reasons she shouldn’t ceased to exist in her mind. The chaos calmed.
All she could see was Chance.
Chance’s face sent her pulse skittering. He gently drew her close. “Walk with me, Chloe?”
Her gaze welded to his, she felt a little dazed.
At this moment she wanted nothing more than to take that walk with Chance.
CHERYL WYATT
An R.N. turned stay-at-home mom and wife, Cheryl delights in the stolen moments God gives her to write action- and faith-driven romance. She stays active in her church and in her laundry room. She’s convinced that having been born on a naval base on Valentine’s Day destined her to write military romance. A native of San Diego, California, Cheryl currently resides in beautiful, rustic southern Illinois, but has also enjoyed living in New Mexico and Oklahoma. Cheryl loves hearing from readers. You are invited to contact her at Cheryl@CherylWyatt.com or P.O. Box 2955, Carbondale, IL 62902-2955. Visit her on the Web at www.CherylWyatt.com and sign up for her newsletter if you’d like updates on new releases, events and other fun stuff. Hang out with her in the blogosphere at www.Scrollsquirrel.blogspot.com or on the message boards at www.SteepleHill.com.
Steadfast Soldier
Cheryl Wyatt
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
My heart, O God, is steadfast, my heart is steadfast; I will sing and make music.
—Psalms 57:7
Dear Jesus, thank You for being a fisher of men. Love You, Lord. To Mom and Dad, who raised me to know I’m worth something in your eyes and God’s. I’m blessed to have you. I appreciate you teaching me and Lisa to bait our hooks and cast our own lines, even when one goes astray. Sorry, Dad! You wanted your ear pierced, right? Grin. To Rachel Z at Books & Such for your friendship, industry insight and career guidance. To Melissa Endlich and Sarah McDaniel for loving these characters and believing in my books.
Acknowledgments
Thanks to this book’s research helpers:
—Kim and Jeremy Woodhouse for your gracious insight into things boat-related. May all your bass be over ten pounds!
—Mary and Ivan Connealy also for help with fishing-boat stuff. Ivan, don’t believe a word Mary tells you about those silly Seeker-villains. Snicker.
—Kim Lunato and Janet Klein for occupational and speech therapy research help, and Cara Putman for introducing me to these contacts.
—Animal therapy expert Eric Gillaspy and Megan DiMaria for this research contact.
—Tina Radcliffe for sharing the inspirational animal-rescue video.
—Janna Ryan for coming up with Chloe’s name. Thanks!
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Letter to Reader
Questions for Discussion
Chapter One
“Talk about unconventional.” U.S. Air Force pararescue jumper Chance Garrison shoved the gauzy curtain away from the glass pane cooled by the overworked air conditioner. He blinked to make sure his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him as he stared at what was coming up the yard he’d just mown.
He pivoted to face his teammate and best bud, Brock, who approached where he stood near the window.
“What?” Brock joined him and tracked his gaze.
“Maybe that’s not her.” Chance pulled his sweat-dampened shirt away from his chest and leaned in. Yep. The woman—and the hairy thing dragging her—were definitely headed up the long driveway of the house Chance had rented for himself and his dad, who was recovering from a stroke he suffered following the death of Chance’s mom. “What kinda person brings her pet to work?”
Brock pressed his face against the window. “A cute one.” He shouldered himself closer and elbowed Chance out of the way, presumably to get a better look. “Very cute.”
Chance had noticed that too. But the fact that the pretty, young occupational therapist was lugging toward them the biggest, blackest Labrador retriever he’d ever seen was taking his attention away from how cute she was.
For the moment.
“Surely she’s not thinking of bringing that animal in here.” Brock tracked the odd pair’s approach.
“She c-can’t. If Dad sees that th-thing in the house, his blood pressure w-w-will hit the roof.” Chance scowled at the stutter and eyed the bedroom door where Dad had retreated to watch midday game shows.
The TV blared through the thick walls, which meant Dad probably didn’t have his hearing aid in.
When the woman stepped onto the landing with dogzilla rather than secure him to the lamppost, Chance’s faith that Dad would comply with his new therapist and his regimen of home therapy drained, as if someone pulled the plug on the only hope left somewhere inside him, like a bathtub quickly draining.
But his teammates’ wives trusted this woman, and he trusted his teammates’ wives. If they crooned that this unconventional therapist could make a difference with Dad, he’d give it a shot. But what was the deal with the dog?
Regardless, he’d see to it that the animal stayed outside.
Chance opened the door and was greeted with the satisfying smell of fresh-cut grass and a smile on the therapist’s face that was so radiant his concentration fled. So did his resolve to order the dog to stay outside. The sudden pounding in his chest when this woman held his gaze and flashed her brilliant smile wasn’t something he’d been remotely prepared for.
Nor was he prepared for the luxurious sheen of her brown-gold hair or the vibrance of her eyes. The green of them matched the glistening beads in her diamond-shaped earrings, dangling beside beautifully sloped cheeks. As he looked closer, he realized that the little circles in the earrings were tiny onyx paws.
Before he knew what he was doing, Chance’s hand inched toward them. Then Brock bumped his arm, and Chance realized he was staring. He dropped his hand quickly and dipped his chin to find blades of grass clinging to his rather ripe T-shirt. At least his deodorant was pulling double duty. Hopefully.
Chance raised his gaze back to her.
The woman’s grin extended, and her generous lips parted to reveal shiny, silver braces. Her easy gaze slid to Brock for the slightest moment, then returned readily to Chance. And stayed.
Shyness swooped in like a stealth bomber, even as ripples of delight over the prolonged eye contact tried to intercept it.
“Hi,” Chance managed. He concentrated on not stumbling over Brock’s jump boots as he stepped back to let her in.
Smiling, Brock nodded a greeting to the therapist, then moved toward the bedroom. “I’ll help your dad into his transfer chair.”
“Hi,” the therapist replied to Chance and stepped fully inside the door. With dogzilla. She extended her hand. “You must be Chance. I’m Chloe.”
“Miss C-C-Callett.” Chance engulfed her petite hand in his and gave it a polite shake. Quiet confidence returning, he directed a not-so-polite nod to the dog. “Uh, not sure how to s-say this, but Dad doesn’t particularly care for animals in the house.”
Chloe knelt, patting the beast. “That’s all right. He’s not really an animal. This is Midnight, my assistant.”
Assistant? An unintended laugh tumbled from Chance’s mouth. “A dog is your assistant?”
She rose, braced smile stiffening. “Yes. My specialty is that I use rescued animals to help rehabilitate humans.”
Instant remorse hit Chance with a thud. “Look, I didn’t m-mean to offend….” He stepped closer to Chloe and her mutt, who actually was kind of cute. Though not as cute as the girl.
Chance cleared his throat and was trying to formulate a more articulate apology when Chloe graced him with another stunning smile, this one as genuine as the first. “It’s okay, really. I get that reaction a lot.”
She gave the dog a command and he stood. “I know this is a shock if you’re not used to it, but please, for your father’s sake, trust us?”
“Us?”
“Us.” She placed an affectionate, protective palm on Midnight’s massive head. The deep compassion he detected in her voice when she spoke of his dad helped Chance nod without hesitation. The sincerity in her expression and tone enveloped him in familiar warmth.
“Your eyes remind me of my late mother’s hugs.”
Yikes! No idea what made him blurt that. Stress maybe.
Chloe paused, blinked. “Thanks.” She passed Chance and smiled again. Her very essence enchanted him. The perfume, vivid makeup, neon-green nail polish, shiny lime patent-leather sandals and colorful geometric sundress didn’t hurt.
If he could sum up Miss Callett in one word, it would be alive. Full of life and loving it.
He hoped some of that would rub off on his dad.
“M-may I offer you something to d-d-drink, Miss Callett?”
“Nope. I’m good.” She grinned. “And it’s Chloe.”
He smiled. Mostly because he’d run out of anything to say. Chloe eyed the living room, which made Chance wish he’d cleaned up evidence of all the fast food and takeout he’d been ordering lately.
“With moving and work and taking care of Dad plus getting a house ready to sell, I don’t have time to cook.” Chance felt like he needed to explain.
He wrestled a pile of foam containers from the coffee table and dumped them in a trash bag. “Life at this point consists of convenience, which means less h-h-home-cooked and lots of takeout.”
“Understandable. Does Ivan like home-cooked meals?”
“Yeah, but I’m not that great of a cook and he’s picky.” Thankfully, his dad’s appetite was still healthy, unlike Chance’s, which had atrophied a lot, like his father’s now-unused hands.
A thoughtful look entered her captivating eyes. “I noticed from Ivan’s medical history that he doesn’t have dietary restrictions other than sodium. Do you?”
“No, ma’am.”
“What does he like to eat?”
Where was she going with this? “Old-fashioned meat and potatoes.”
“And you?”
“That suits me too.” They both liked lots of red meat, even though it supposedly clogged the pipes. Chance hadn’t been eating or sleeping well for months, and it was definitely starting to take its toll.
“That’s good. Protein to feed your muscles for all that bodybuilding I can tell you do.” She winked, causing his cheeks to flush. He brought his hand up to feel the scorch.
“Do you compete?” She pulled items from her bag.
“No, ma’am. I have to stay in this kind of shape for my job.” That elicited her attention, and the respect he saw in her gaze suddenly added an extra benefit to all the daily pain and strain he put in at his team leader Joel’s gym. Chance instantly felt ten feet taller and two tons of stress lighter.
“I see.” Chloe pivoted in a graceful circle and eyed the room. “Are either of you allergic to flowers?”
What did flowers have to do with anything? he wondered, but just said, “No.”
Lifting her pixie chin, Chloe appeared quite pleased with herself; her grin looked to harbor a well-planned secret. Her eyes veered toward his stack of Bible study books. Curiosity flitted across her features until her vision snagged on one book… then soured.
Why?
He eyed the title, Becoming an Effective Youth Pastor. He returned his gaze to her.
Professional mask back in place, she folded petite hands in front of her trim middle. “Shall we get started?”
Chance nodded concession to her as she stepped boldly toward the ruckus forming at his dad’s bedroom door.
“I don’t need anyone coming in here and telling me what to do!” Ivan could be heard loud and clear.
Chance cringed. Dad’s mood was already festering, and he was about to see a dinosaur of a dog. In the house.
“And what in tarnation is that?” Ivan now squinted at his first glimpse of the massive black dog. He yanked his glasses from his chest pocket, squinted even more, and jabbed his good finger at Midnight. “Who let that heap-a-hair in here?” he bellowed and scowled at Chance.
Before Chance could offer an explanation, Chloe stepped forward. “Hi, Mister Garrison. I’m Chloe Callett. This is Midnight. We’re here to assess your need for in-home OT, better known as occupational therapy.”
“We? What’s that doggone mutt got to do with it?” Ivan glowered at Chloe to the point that drool fell from the weak side of his sullen mouth.
Brock dabbed it with a red, bandit-style kerchief hanging loosely around Ivan’s neck. Ivan let him but grunted. Brock pretended not to notice. He tried to finish discreetly until Ivan skewered him with a glare.
“On that note, I’ll let myself out. Good luck,” he said to Chloe and Chance and chuckled his way out the door.
Chloe didn’t cringe at Brock’s rapid departure or cower under Ivan’s escalating disapproval and hollers, even though his pinched face shaded redder by the second.
Ivan’s bulging eyes wrinkled at the corners and his nose squished up as he went nose to nose with Chloe. “What have you got stuck in your teeth there?”
“Braces.”
“Aren’t you too old for that?”
She shrugged and bit back a grin. “Maybe.”
Ivan scowled. “Ask me, it’s a waste of good money. My boy there’s got crooked teeth and he’s not bothered by it.”
He wasn’t?
True. He wasn’t.
Until Chloe’s gaze fell on his mouth. His face heated again. “Au contraire, Dad. I h-have one tooth that doesn’t s-sit right. One.” Chance chuckled and held up a pointer finger.
He also placed a clandestine hand on Ivan’s shoulder and prepared to squeeze if his manners bounced any further out of bounds. The stroke had definitely adversely affected his father’s cognitive and social judgment. Chance didn’t mind his dad taking pokes at him, but Ivan was picking on Chloe. Chance would intervene. “Dad, we have a lady present.”
As Chance increased pressure of his hand, Ivan stared Chance down, then swerved his head back toward Chloe. “Say, how old are you anyway? You married? ’Cause my son here is not, and it’s about time he took the plunge.”
Chance clamped his mouth shut and his hand tighter and tried not to laugh at the shocked look on Chloe’s face. He cast an apologetic glance her way while his dad prattled on.
Undaunted other than a slight flush to her cheeks, Chloe calmly pulled a clipboard out and knelt in front of Ivan’s chair. She made a couple of adjustments on the footrest then reached for Ivan’s hand. “Squeeze for me?”
Ivan scowled but squished her hand with his good one. Hard. Harder than Chance thought necessary.
Chloe grimaced but her eyes grinned. “Nice grip. You’ve got the hands of a hardworking man.”
A sliver of a smile creased the unaffected side of Ivan’s mouth. The scowl eased from his face and a twinkle dared to dance in his eyes.
Until Chloe reached for his affected hand. “Now let’s try the other one.”
Back came the scowl. “Don’t you read anything in that chart? My stroke made it so I can’t do the other one.”
She smiled sweetly. “Try.” She held his listless hand.
A grunt. More intent scowling. But no response from his hand.
“I know you don’t like dogs in your house. So go ahead. Squeeze and pretend you’re knocking me upside the noggin for bringing Midnight in here.” She winked.
Ivan blinked as though surprised by her candor, then bit back what might have been either the beginnings of a smile or a taunt, Chance couldn’t be certain which one.
Ivan’s wrist strained in effort, but his fingers didn’t move and his hand didn’t clench. His countenance fell. “Told ya! It’s no use. I’m a useless man.” He looked away.
Pain streaked through Chance. He wanted to drop to his knees and beg: Dad, don’t give up. Please don’t give up.
Compassion filled Chloe’s expression. “Try again, Ivan. Please.”
“Why? Got nothing other’n Chance left to live for. And he’d do fine without me.”
“I’m sure he doesn’t want to have to do without you. So come on. Try.” She held her hand out closer to Ivan. They stared at each other in a state of silent stalemate.
Then fury flashed over Ivan’s face. He glared at Chloe’s outstretched hand and growled. Then he called her names that would have sent a weaker woman sobbing from the house. Jaw clenched, Chance pinched Ivan’s shoulder to get the message across to be respectful to the lady. “Dad, that’s quite enough.” Chance felt mortified.
But Chloe, serene, didn’t budge. After a moment, she knelt closer and whispered, “I think your late wife would want you to try. I know Chance does.” Chloe winked. “Think of all the beautiful grandbabies you have to look forward to in the future. They’d want you to try.”
At first, Ivan scowled again. But as her words finally seeped in, he blinked several times. Met Chance’s gaze, which had been reduced to pleading. Ivan’s face softened. With a quaky motion, Ivan brought his hand to hers. A clumsy tremor proved his attempt to squeeze with all his might.
“Not bad.” Chloe made notes on her paper, then stood.
“So, what do you think?” Fear streaked through Chance that Chloe would turn them away as clients.
Then reassurance sparkled like the gold in Chloe’s eyes as she met his gaze briefly before grinning at Ivan. “I think by the time Midnight and I get through with Ivan, he’ll be strong enough to pick us both up and toss us in the yard. With his affected arm.”
Relief rushed Chance at the confidence in her words.
Ivan sat straighter. “You saying the sooner I do my exercises, the sooner you and that oversize mutt’ll go away and not bother me anymore?”
“That’s what I’m saying.” Chloe repositioned Ivan’s hand on a small towel from her bag. She rolled it, then secured it with tape and rested it on the table beside Ivan. “Curl your fingers around this. Squeeze whenever you think about it.”
“Only if I can think of pinching the nose off that mongrel pup so everybody’ll quit controlling my life.”
“Fair enough.” Chloe said a command to the dog, who’d been sitting obediently, stoic and watching.
At her command, Midnight lay down. He also switched from watching Chloe to watching Ivan while Chloe performed more physical, neurological and strength tests.
Ivan peered over his age-thickened nose at the dog and muttered something Chance couldn’t hear. Chloe looked like she might balk. Chance moved to intervene.
Subtly, Chloe shook her head at him. He paused.
His respect for her rose as he observed Chloe’s skill and bedside manner, especially in the glaring light of his father’s storm of stubbornness. She wasn’t asking him to do the assessment maneuvers. Nor demanding. Just not really giving Ivan the option to opt out. Smart girl. She’d pegged his difficult dad and his needs in a heartbeat.
Chance grinned. Maybe he liked this OT and her unconventional ways more than he cared to admit.
But if Ivan forbade the dog, they were done. There’d be nothing left to do except give up. Chance couldn’t do that. He eyed the Lab, now sleeping near Ivan’s feet. It’d take a miracle to get Dad to accept help from a supersize fur-ball that looked more like a small bull than a dog.
Chloe gathered her things and suggested a few exercises to Ivan that Chance doubted he’d do. The therapist smiled and started to say something to Chance until her vision again brushed past the books on the table. Her smile faded. “So which one of you is studying to be a pastor, you or Brock?”
Chance laughed. “Definitely not Brock.”
“That means you.” Not a question but a flat statement.
He nodded, observing her face as it seemed to harden a bit. She eyed her watch, bade them goodbye and headed for the door.
Thunder rumbled in the distance. He watched her rush toward her car in a near-sprint that communicated her sudden need to flee—and not just from the impending bad weather.
Her speed birthed a concern in Chance that she might not intend to return, even though she had seemed to allude to the fact that she would.
He raised his gaze from Chloe to the darkening sky above the streets of Refuge, the town that claimed to live up to its name. Hopefully, in Ivan’s case, that’d be true because he hadn’t been happy about leaving St. Louis.
Chance braced his hand against the window, fingertips brushing remnants of blue in a changing sky whose only light seemed to be fading. Chance’s fingers stretched, reaching for the only bright spot left in what appeared to be an angry, brewing storm he felt was symbolic. Bright spots were few and far between these days, and storms were nothing new to Chance lately. His heart latched on to the one thing that had been his steadfast anchor in the worst waves.
Prayer.
His lifeline to the One who draped that sky above the earth like a protective dome that brought comfort in dark days. He’d been an avid skydiver before, but after the twin tragedies of losing Mom, followed quickly by Dad’s stroke, Chance spent even more time in the air. It made him feel closer to God and further from losing his mind in the midst of grief—grief that was trying to ground his soaring career and nix his newfound faith.
Chloe’s vivid style and expressive face traipsed across his mind. When the woman with the contagious smile and neon zest for life had entered his rental home, it’d been like the world had breathed a fresh breath of life back into the room.
“Lord, bring her back. And let her be running for shelter from the storm rather than fleeing from Dad’s stubbornness. He needs her help more than he’s capable of realizing right now. So do I, and I’m not too proud to admit it. Please don’t let her be changing her mind.”
Chapter Two
If she was in her right mind, she’d change it, Chloe thought.
Two things wouldn’t let her: Compassion that had clutched her for this grief-stricken family. And the rays of hope lifting melancholy clouds from the younger man’s staggeringly handsome face when she’d made slight progress with his grumpy, stubborn dad.
His very noncompliant, curmudgeonly dad.
Yep, this case would definitely be a stretch. “But we’ve broken tougher barriers and overcome worse, huh, boy?”
She hadn’t intended to start seeing patients until she got her animal-assisted therapy program off the ground. But Mandy had asked for a favor, so she’d made an exception to do a free consult on Mr. Garrison. Mandy was the reason Chloe had received clearance to start a satellite clinic in Refuge, and she owed Mandy, a friend of the Garrisons.
After being at the Garrison home, Chloe couldn’t turn her back on them. Not even for her program. After all, helping people was the reason she wanted the program in the first place. And clearly they needed help.
“Poor Ivan,” Chloe said to Midnight, whose ears rose.
No doubt the loss of his wife of over forty years had sucked the wind out of the sails of Ivan’s will to live. She recognized it because she’d seen it in her mother.
Chloe remembered when Mom fell into a grief-driven depression after Chloe’s workaholic father died. Her workaholic pastor father.
The books on the Garrisons’ coffee table came to mind, as did the revelation that they belonged to Chance.
Chloe didn’t want to ponder why that thought plunked dots of disappointment into her tummy.
Chloe’s father was an emotionally absent minister who’d left Chloe feeling like marriage would mean the end of her personal dreams, the way it had for her mother. Still, Chloe knew Mom had loved Dad and was devastated by his death. She had temporarily lost her will to live, but thankfully, Mom pulled out of it, thanks to God and animal therapy.
Once Ivan’s will to live returned, it would be too late to rehabilitate. If Ivan was to regain any use of the limbs that stroke had affected, the time for therapy was now. Urgency in the son’s striking eyes as he’d watched her work with his father proved he knew it too.
She wondered what Chance did for a living. He was so muscular that Chloe couldn’t imagine what kind of job required that fierce of a commitment to stay physically fit. It was the kind of boulder-rugged build that a businesswoman like herself never saw in the suits she’d dated in Chicago. Plus, he was familiar with medical terms and had used some when they had talked on the phone to arrange her visit.
Not that she was thinking of dating Mr. Muscles or anything. She just liked to know who she was dealing with. Sure, that was it. Chloe fanned her face with Ivan’s paperwork.
Though the overcast sky had dropped the temperature outside, the temperature inside the car rose a bit with each image of Chance that scrolled across the screen in her mind. It left her feeling befuddled and bereft and inexplicably unsettled.
Standing in the overpowering presence of an unbelievably good-looking guy should not make her feel like she’d stepped in the path of an oncoming tsunami. Not even if he was quite possibly the most amazingly gorgeous man she’d ever laid eyes on.
Speaking of storms, Chloe eyed the skies as she sat in her car with her medical charts and stared at the black clouds that had gathered above the Garrison home. Boxes had been strewn everywhere, proving the men had just moved in but hadn’t gotten everything settled yet.
The despair vying for hope on the son’s handsome face had yanked Chloe’s heartstrings. She finished her medical charting and pulled away from the curb.
By the time Chloe navigated her SUV to the stop sign at the end of the long street, hail pelted her car and rain slapped the windshield. She twisted the knob. Wipers slashed across the relentless film of falling water.
She punched buttons on her GPS. “Okay, Miss G. Left or right?” Having only been in Refuge a few days, she was unfamiliar with the residential streets. Before arriving at the Garrison home, she’d come from a meeting with Mandy at Refuge’s hospital, a different direction than her mom’s home.
The arrow in the GPS screen pointed left, but despite her wipers running full speed ahead, visibility was poor.
The wind picked up, blowing sheets of rain sideways. Her SUV trembled in their power. She tried to peer out her side windows. Water rushed in rivulets, distorting her view. Midnight whined and moved closer to her.
“I know, boy. You’re scared of storms.” Chloe nibbled her lip and eyed the dark sky. Didn’t they have bad storms here? Wasn’t Refuge part of Tornado Alley? Her native Chicago was six hours north and the weather drastically different than in southern Illinois.
She peered in her rearview mirror long enough to consider returning to Chance’s house for cover.
Normally she’d feel weird seeking shelter from a stranger. But something about Chance reminded her of home, and in a good way. He seemed the sort who would be like a protective big brother. Or the ideal best friend everyone wished they had. Strong and honest and stalwart. Yet loving and kind and hospitable. The slight drawl and sweet southern manners, endearingly shy demeanor, crooked smile and deep dimples didn’t hurt either.
Chloe let out a long groan. She applied the brakes to her mind and pressed her foot to the gas of her SUV.
She’d rather contend with a potential twister than this attraction trying to twist up her insides.
Three blocks later, Chloe regretted her decision to weather the storm. No choice now but to drive through it. The wind howled outside and Midnight howled inside.
Slowing, she pressed a hand on his thick neck. “It’s okay, boy. Shhh. You’re fine, buddy.”
Rain increased to the point that she couldn’t see her hood, much less the road, wherever it was. White-knuckling the wheel, she pulled her car over to what she hoped was a curb and put on her hazard lights.
“I hope no one crashes into us, Midnight. Of course, I’m probably the only dummy out here trying to drive through what appears to be an inland hurricane.”
Pounding at her window drew her attention and elicited a shriek she didn’t realize slipped out of her until Midnight surged up and growled at the figure outside.
A very tall, broad figure that caused her heart to beat faster than the rain sloshing back and forth with her useless wipers.
Even through the darkened sky and thrashing rain, she’d recognize that crooked smile anywhere. Chance.
He stood with a sopping newspaper failing to shield his wet face. He moved his hand in a rapid circle. Trying to get her to roll her window down? She reached for her window button.
He shook his head and pointed to her passenger window. She unlocked the door. He rushed around, pulled the door open and slid like quicksilver into her seat, shoving the dog over in one smooth process. As roomy as her car’s interior was, his massive frame filled it to capacity.
“Hey.” Water trickled from his spiky military buzz. He dripped all over her just-cleaned seat. She didn’t care.
She loosened her grip from the steering wheel. “Hey.” Handsome. “I’m stuck.”
He grinned. “I see that. Where are you trying to go?”
“My house.”
He laughed. “And you don’t know where it is?”
She giggled. “Actually, no, because it’s my mom’s house. I’m staying there while I’m here in Refuge.”
His smile faded a shade. “Do you plan to leave soon?”
“I’d love to stay, but I have to get an animal-assisted therapy program off the ground in order to transfer my business from Chicago. I long to live in southern Illinois. Specifically here in Refuge, since my mom is here.” Not only that, but also she was on a waiting list for her own place.
Chance stroked Midnight. “What brought her to Refuge?”
Chloe pondered how to answer. Chance was undoubtedly only asking to be polite. But just in case his interest was any deeper than that, she’d best tell him the truth.
“She wanted to move as far away as possible from my dad’s mistress.”
His jaw slackened and his face tilted. “Oh, wow. Sorry, Chloe. It was rude of me to pry.”
“Doesn’t matter.” She sighed and scraped her fingernails along the rubber holding the glass in and realized two things: One, it felt purging to talk in the rain. Two, she liked his company and didn’t want to leave it.
Chance shifted, but not because he seemed uncomfortable. He looked relaxed as he watched her. “I get the feeling you don’t mind talking about it. Need to, maybe.”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. You just seem the type to be a good listener. Someone who’d understand.”
Chance unlatched his seat belt and nodded. “I try. So, is your dad still with the mistress?”
Chloe couldn’t help it; a laugh scraped out. “No. My dad’s dead. He died when I was younger.”
Chance shifted again. “Sorry, Chloe. That’s rough.”
“Yeah, well, just so you know, the mistress…was his church. He was a pastor who knew and cared for his congregation better than his wife or daughter.” She reached for the door handle. Not sure why. She’d said too much.
But Chance didn’t flinch. He just leaned across and put his hand over hers to stop her departure. Then he grinned.
“What?” Of course, just where did she think she’d go in the rain? Ugh! His Handsomeness had the common sense section of her brain twisted like a bread twist tie.
“I was thinking about your caustic expression when you saw the books on my table. Now I know why.” He smiled gently.
She laughed. “I guess I overreacted. But now you know I have an aversion to preachers of any sort.”
His face cringed. “Wow, that doesn’t bode well for me then.” He leaned against his seat and pulled his arm back to his body, pausing midway to pinch her shoulder in a friendly, innocent nip. “We’d love to have you in Refuge. It would be good for you and your mom. So where does she live?” Rain pellets drove themselves into the windshield, surrounding them with pounding white noise. Chloe suddenly felt uncomfortable at the thought of how much she’d shared so soon with a virtual stranger.
Yet Chance didn’t feel like one. He felt familiar. Like they were meant to meet and be friends.
“The street doesn’t show up on there,” she said when Chance eyed her GPS.
“Most in Refuge don’t. That’s partly because there’s an unmapped military base nearby. Plus, Refuge is a small town. What’s the address?”
“Two-twelve Haven Street.”
His face lit. “That’s down the street from my buddy’s house. Manny and his wife, Celia. They live on Haven. Well, follow me.” He jumped from her SUV and ran back to his vehicle.
Chance had hardly said ten words to her when she had visited his dad. But she’d just caught a glimpse of Chance unguarded.
“And, buddy, unfortunately I like what I see a tad too much. Keep me in line, okay?” Chloe told Midnight as the dog nudged her hand with his nose, then yelped when thunder rumbled. The dog was terrified of lightning too. She needed to get him inside or he’d end up in her lap and impede her windshield view.
Chloe pulled away from the curb as Chance passed her. Thankfully, he drove slowly. His brake lights became Chloe’s compass. They beamed through the storm like two tiny red lighthouses. She followed his taillights in full trust.
Eventually Mom’s house came into view. Chloe pulled into the driveway and waved Chance on, signaling he could go. Surely a man like that had somewhere important to be. She hated to detain him; he’d been so kind to get her home.
But he parked his Jeep and rushed from it toward her…with a parachute-shaped umbrella!
She opened her door. “Oh, Chance, you’re getting drenched! Why didn’t you pull that umbrella out before?”
“Because you were in the car before.”
How sweet! “This isn’t necess—”
But his adorably crooked grin melted the end of her sentence. She grabbed Midnight’s leash and tried to lead him from the car.
He wouldn’t budge. “Come on, boy!”
Chance held the umbrella over her and became totally soaked.
“What’s wrong with him?” He nodded to the dog. Concern crossed Chance’s face as Midnight’s whines and trembling escalated.
“He has a serious phobia of storms. He normally leaps in my lap at the first clap of thunder or flash of lightning.” Chloe tugged on the leash but Midnight eyed the formidable sky, then flopped to his belly in the seat.
The dog wasn’t going anywhere unless someone made him.
“Here.” Chance handed Chloe the umbrella and ran to the other side of the car. Opening the door, he reached in and—just lifted the dog. Not only that, he lifted the terrified monstrosity of a mutt as if he were a stuffed toy. Chance expertly carried him toward the house.
Midnight must have felt secure because he didn’t struggle except to search for Chloe over Chance’s well-developed shoulders and back.
Rain soaked his shirt and caused it to cling to his skin so every cut, corded muscle became visible as he sprinted with her dog to Mom’s door.
She regretfully ripped away her gaze and rushed behind them with the unique umbrella.
Chloe’s mom flung the door open. “What in the world?” Mary stepped aside as the dripping threesome filed in.
Chance stopped on the rug and set the dog down. “Midnight, stay,” he said to the dog, which not only complied but eyed Chance like he was his new best friend.
“Good boy.” Chance scrubbed Midnight behind his ears, then tipped his head at her mom. “Ma’am.”
Mary ogled him. Chloe knew the feeling. Not often did one meet a guy who proved that chivalry was not dead, especially one so tall, broad and beautifully sculpted.
Chloe fiddled with her oversize wristwatch. “This is my mom, Mary. She is working for Mandy part-time as a receptionist in her doctor’s office until she can get her greenhouse business up and running here.”
“What do you grow?” Chance patted Midnight.
“Flowers, mostly.” Mary snapped out of her gawking. “Oh, forgive my manners. Let’s get you a towel and something to drink, young man.”
“Thank you, but I’m fine. I need to get going.” Chance shifted from foot to foot. “It was nice to meet you. Have a nice day, Mary.”
He turned to Chloe. “Later.” He slid her a lopsided grin, then slipped out the door and into the rain, leaving her speechless for the second time in her life.
Later. Sounded like a promise, as did the lazy way the word had drawled across his tongue. Despite rain-soaked clothes, Chloe broke out in a sweat.
“My goodness, but he’s a looker!” Mary scuttled around the room.
Chloe’s sentiments exactly. “He’s a Good Samaritan on top of all those piles of muscles and mile-long legs.”
“A strapping Samaritan. With no identifier that he’s spoken for.”
“I noticed that too,” Chloe said in a small voice. Ringless finger. She didn’t like that her eyes and heart had headed so quickly in that direction.
“Later. That sounded a little like an invitation. At the very least, an inquiry.” Mary hawk-eyed Chloe.
Later. The softly spoken word and the part question, part promise in his silky-suave voice wilted her. For when the word had slid like sugar from Chance’s handsome lips, she’d felt a surge of hope.
And hoping to see Chance again on a personal level was the absolute last thing she should be doing.
Especially if the man planned to be a pastor.
Mom returned with dry towels. “So who was that?”
Chloe draped one over herself then Midnight. “The son of the client I met with today. I couldn’t find my way in the storm. He passed by and saw me. Helped me get here.”
“And carried your wet, stinky dog in and gave you his umbrella and went without?” Mary drifted to the door as if to glimpse another look at the man who’d so thoroughly rescued her daughter.
“Yes, he is quite mannerly.” Chloe curled her fingers around the umbrella and tried to ignore the compelling fragrance of Chance’s cologne lingering on it.
Mary handed Chloe a piece of paper. “Evie of Refuge B&B phoned today. She has vacancies now.”
Chloe took the message. “Oh, good. Thanks.”
“You could stay with me a while longer.”
“I know. But by setting down roots, the folks on my Chicago team will know I’m serious about presiding over the Refuge clinic if I get it going.”
“When, not if.”
Chloe reached over and kissed her mom’s cheek. “That’s what I love about you. Always believing in me.” Chloe called Evie back then turned to her mom when she hung up the phone. “She has three newly remodeled, furnished rooms available at reasonable rent. She said to come on over.”
“Want me to drive with you?” Mary asked.
“Nah. Stay out of the rain. Give your arthritis a rest. Evie said she has three keys, a box of dog biscuits and a pan of Mountain Dew Apple Dumplings ready and for me and Midnight to choose our favorite room.”
Mary chuckled and walked Chloe to the door. “Sounds like Evie. Welcome to Refuge, Chloe.”
If she could stay.
Chloe hadn’t inherited all of Mom’s optimism.
Chapter Three
“This one’s my favorite.” Chloe pulled out her neon-green therapy band at Ivan’s next OT session.
Ivan’s scowl intensified. “Who cares?”
“I do.” Chance knelt. “Come on, Dad. Please try it.”
“I said no. I’m tired of everyone bossing me around.”
“We’re trying to help you get better.” Chance looked to Chloe. Desperation gnawed at him. Dad had refused therapy several days in a row. How long would she keep coming if Ivan refused to try?
“I’m sure Miss Callett has other places to be, Dad. She’s been here three hours today already. Please, don’t waste the lady’s time.”
Chloe put her hand on Chance’s arm. “It’s okay. We’ll give it a rest for now.” She rose and rolled up her band.
A sinking sensation hit Chance when she stuffed it, along with her clipboard, inside her bag.
Clearly she was done.
Ivan lifted his head. Eyed her and Chance, then turned away when they caught him looking.
“Thanks for trying.” Chance walked Chloe to the door.
“No problem.” But the sudden panic piercing her face when she eyed her watch belied her confident words. Chloe faced Chance. “I’m sorry I can’t stay longer today. I’ve a meeting I’m late for. Bye, Chance.”
She ran to her car. Midnight wasn’t with her today. Chance appreciated that she’d tried without him.
Hadn’t made a difference. He closed the door and fought his frustration with Dad.
“Next time you mow that yard, boy, mow this carpet too.” Ivan tried to wheel himself across the floor, but the carpet was too thick and the chair wouldn’t budge.
“Where do you need to go, Dad?”
“Anywhere you aren’t. Put me to bed.”
Chance clenched his jaw and pushed the chair across the floor to Ivan’s room. “Dad—”
“Just let it go, son! Let me go. Just…let me go.”
Chance’s throat clogged. His eyes stung. “I can’t.” He helped his dad into bed and was surprised to see tears drip on his hands. His or Dad’s? It didn’t matter. They mingled. Chance tucked Ivan in. His father turned away. Glared at the wall.
“I know this is hard for you. I love you, Dad. Too much to let you go.” His voice cracked.
A grunt met his words. But that was okay. Losing Mom had ripped any reticence out of Chance about telling those he loved how he felt. His father just switched on the television and turned it up. The two men sat in silence, staring at the screen.
Two hours later, Chance heard a distinct rumble outside as a motorcycle pulled up. “Dad, Vince is here to visit with you while I make a grocery run.” Chance stared at the figure in the bed. “Want anything special?”
“Yeah,” his dad grunted a reply. “Celery, peanut butter and a roll of duct tape the width of your lips.”
Chance grinned with relief. “For my mouth, right?”
“Yes, and a lock to keep that hippie therapist and her creature out of this prison you’re forcing me to live in.”
Chance chuckled grimly. “I’ll think about it.” He went to step out and close the door.
Ivan twisted. “Wait, what’s wrong with the mutt?”
“Nothing that I’m aware of.”
“Just wondered, since he was a no-show today.”
Chance paused. Was it possible? Did his father actually care a little bit about Midnight?
Maybe there was hope after all. At this point, he’d grasp that tiny grain. His father’s voice interrupted his thoughts.
“Get going. I need my nap. Don’t forget celery. The one with hearts.”
“The packages with the hearts are my favorite too,” a voice that sounded like honey to his ears said behind him a few minutes later as he was eyeing the produce at the grocery store.
Chance turned. The smile was as sweet as the sound. “Hi, Chloe.” He eyed her cart. “Shopping, I see?”
“Yes. Looks like you’re stocking up too.” She watched him set two packages of celery hearts in his cart as she rolled hers beside his.
“How’s Ivan?” she asked.
“Calm for now.” He grinned. “But only because he’s sleeping.”
She laughed. It swirled through him like fresh air.
“Thanks for being patient with him. I know you’re going above and beyond what anyone else would do.”
She put fresh broccoli in her cart. “It’s what I’d want if he were my dad. I try to treat every patient as though they are people I love.”
Chance paused. “I got the feeling you didn’t care much for your dad.”
Chloe stilled and twisted a knot in the broccoli bag. “He didn’t care much for me. But I loved him. He was the only dad I had, and while he wasn’t perfect, he was mine.” She blinked several times.
Chance rested a hand on her arm. “Wanna go somewhere and hang out? We can just talk and have fun. I can show you around Refuge.”
“I’d like that.” She eyed her cart’s contents. “I’ll drop my stuff off at home and meet you back at your house?”
Chance nodded and a sense of excitement filled him as he checked out and drove home. It lingered as he put groceries away.
Vince stepped out of Ivan’s room. “I helped him bathe. He’ll be in bed for the rest of the day and all night, I think. If you want to get out of the house for a bit, bro, I can sit with him. Val’s preparing a court case. Trial’s in two days, so she’s working at home.”
“Actually, I was going to ask if you could. I’m showing Dad’s OT around Refuge.”
Vince got a goofy smirk. “Sounds like a date.”
“No, just a…a…friendship outing. I’m trying to stay in her good graces so she’ll keep coming back to help Dad. Not sure why she hasn’t given up on him yet.” Chance swallowed and eyed his dad’s door. A car pulled up outside. “That’s her.”
Vince grinned. “Have fun, man. You need it.”
Outside, Chance walked Chloe to his Jeep. He opened the door and helped her up, pleased to discover she’d freshened up her makeup, clipped her hair into a barrette and spritzed on perfume.
“Where to first?” she asked as he drove toward Haven Street.
“Mandy mentioned you’re looking for land to build your animal-assisted therapy program.”
“Yeah, if it ever gets off the ground.” She sighed.
“Having trouble?”
“That’s an understatement. My troubles have trouble where the program’s concerned. My meetings with Refuge City Council and the bank loan officer didn’t go well today.”
Remorse smacked him upside the heart. “Oh, wow. That’s where you were headed when you left late today.”
“Yeah, but it wouldn’t have mattered. Two council members are afraid of funding something so progressive.”
“I think I know the two in question. Sheriff Steele and Mayor Bunyan?”
“Exactly. How’d you know?”
“Because they staunchly opposed programs my buddies and I tried to institute.”
“I hope everything turned out well for you.”
“We compromised. Steele and Bunyan agreed to what they did only because the entire town put pressure on them.”
“That’s discouraging. The town doesn’t know me.”
“But God does. If you have Him in your corner, there’s no need to fear. Besides, the mayor and the sheriff are both entering their last terms.”
Chloe laughed. “Not soon enough to save my program.”
“Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”
“You believe in me?”
“Of course. You haven’t given up on Dad yet.”
Chloe nodded, seeing the fear in his eyes that she might. But as willing as she was to keep trying, she couldn’t force Ivan to exercise. “You haven’t either. So between the two of us and Midnight, he still has a chance.”
“Thanks, Chloe. You encourage me.”
“We’re even then, because you encourage me too.”
Chance took her to his friend Joel’s house and borrowed his four-wheeler. He rode Chloe through the woods until dense forest gave way to a clearing.
Chance cut the engine. Chloe liked being close to him and didn’t want to put distance between them, but the view before them called to something deep in her. Almost like a dream.
“Wow.” Chloe climbed off the ATV. “This land is incredible. I can instantly envision where each of our animal rescue buildings should go. Mallory, my cousin and partner in crime with the animal-assisted therapy project, would freak if she saw this.”
Chance rested his hands on Chloe’s shoulders and turned her to the left as he pointed at a real estate sign.
“It’s for sale,” Chloe breathed. She eyed every inch of the property and practically drooled. “This would be perfect.” She turned to Chance. “Do you know who owns it?”
“The local garage owner. He has money coming out his ears. He owns a lot of land around Refuge. He’d probably sell it at a reasonable price as long as he knows the program is worthwhile.”
“My program will bring job openings to Refuge.”
“That’ll help.”
“But it may not be enough. There are too many obstacles to count.”
“Think of them as hurdles. Just focus on the one directly in front of you. Leap one at a time.”
“Thanks, Chance. Did you ever coach sports? You should.”
“I ran track in high school and college, then coached troubled teens in my spare time. I started a cross-country running club to try and give them something to do besides get arrested on weekends.”
“So you have it in your heart to work with youth?”
“Yeah. It’s very important to me.”
She rubbed the chill off her arms and hoped he’d change the subject. He stilled and studied her motions a moment before leading her to the edge of the property. A stream gurgled beside grassy knolls. Breath left her body in a delicate gasp. He smiled gently at her.
“This is so peaceful, so picturesque.” She turned in a half circle, then stopped. “That sign on the adjacent property says Sold. Do you know what’s going in there?”
“One of my skydiving buddies bought it. He wants to put in a horse farm and bring at-risk teens out to teach them work ethic. He wants to use rescued horses, which is why I brought you here. If you snagged the property next door, you two could combine your programs.”
“That would save money, which is another hurdle I need to jump in order to get this thing off the ground.”
“I have no doubt. I believe you will.”
She faced him. “I’m glad someone does. Let’s hope you’re not the only one in town.”
The wind rustled tendrils of hair loose from her barrette. He visually tracked the motion as it billowed. Something melted in her.
Something that made the moment much too romantic.
His eyes met hers, then fell to the lush, green earth. He dug the tip of his boot into the ground. His countenance succumbed to shyness.
“Hey, that looks like a combat boot. Is it?” She nodded toward his foot.
He nodded. “Jump boot. Similar, I guess.”
“For skydiving?”
He met her gaze again. “You could say that.”
What he said intrigued her, but what he didn’t say intrigued her more. She loved a man immersed in mystery. The fact that she’d get to ride back through forest and fields with her arms wrapped around him again pasted a smile on her face.
He looked so masculine against bright backdrops of raised knolls carpeted in vivid green grass landscaped with outlying woods. Assorted trees and wildflowers dotted the canvas of earth, which met the sky in brilliant purple-pink hues. Colorful and vibrant, pure and peaceful.
How she felt inside just walking and talking with him.
His jaw lifted as he eyed the painted horizon. “Sun’s setting. We better head back.”
Walking side by side, he peered down at her with steadfast sureness. The compelling look on his face caused her heart to flutter like a butterfly being courted by a winsome breeze.
“It’s going to be okay, Chloe,” he said after a moment of walking, with no words other than what was communicated by his sturdy gaze whispering unwavering confidence into hers.
“I hope so.”
He cleared his throat. “Uh, d-do you think you’ll be coming back t-t-to try again, y-you know, w-w-with Dad?” He looked both annoyed at his stutter and scared of her answer. His dysfluent speech proved it so.
She stopped, put her hand on his arm until he paused his long-legged stride and looked down at her. “Of course.”
He nodded and relief fell across his face in terrific waves. He resumed his steps. The four-wheeler came into view. “Busy week ahead.”
“Me too.” One that she looked forward to more than she ought, thanks to thoughts of glimpsing Chance again, although she truly did look forward to the challenge of assisting Ivan with his exercises.
If she could continue to trick or otherwise convince him to do them. If not, Chance had no need of her. She was there to help his father and she’d best not forget it.
That’s the only reason Chance looked at her as if he’d been stranded for months in the middle of a lonely, swirling ocean and she was the first lifeline to hit his destitute horizon. Right?
God had sent her. No doubt about it. The girl was a human life preserver. Dad’s mood had improved three hundredfold since Midnight and Chloe had come this week. And his mood had improved along with his dad’s, especially after spending time with her yesterday afternoon and evening. They’d had a great time.
Chance’s teammate Nolan and his wife, Mandy, arrived, and Chance grabbed his keys. “Mandy’s here, Dad. She’s gonna sit with you while Nolan and I work out and run by the Drop Zone. See you later, Dad.”
Ivan waved him off. Apparently, Dad’s mood still had a ways to go.
After pausing in the driveway to catch Mandy up on his dad’s needs, Chance and Nolan left. They pulled up at the B&B to pick up Brock for their daily pararescue workout regimen at Joel’s.
Hopefully the next few hours of strenuous lifting and exhausting himself on free weights, kettlebell and fitness machines that looked more like torture devices would sweat the image of Chloe, the memory of her essence and the linger of her perfume out of Chance’s mind.
Joel had built an exercise pole barn on his property. The guys used it often to stay in the superior shape their jobs required. If Chance’s appetite would return and his insomnia go, he’d be up to par. But these days, eating felt like little more than cramming gritty rocks in his mouth.
After cardio and working muscles to the max, they hit the gym showers and locked up. Brock dropped Nolan off at the Drop Zone to help Joel, then accompanied Chance to the car.
“Good ol’ Thursday. One more work day. We going out this weekend?” Brock pulled out of the DZ driveway.
Chance knew that by weekend, Brock meant Friday night, since Saturday evenings the guys convened at Joel’s or Commander Petrowski’s for PJ cookouts.
Chance attended church on Sundays now and didn’t want to break away from Dad or find sitters on Saturdays to attend the PJ barbecues, though he missed them. Dad was anxious about being left alone, plus his doctor recommended he remain under constant watch for a few more weeks.
“What’s popping at the movies?” Chance settled deeper into the seat of Brock’s sports car and enjoyed the rumble of power beneath him. Brock was as much of an adrenaline junkie as Chance. They hadn’t gotten to do much in the way of fun the past six months though.
Merging onto the interstate, Brock rocked the RPMs. “I’ll check the movie schedule at home. There’s a new action flick on.”
Since Chance had openly committed his life to Christ following his teammate Vince’s dramatic conversion, Brock didn’t pressure Chance to party. Chance hadn’t managed to talk Brock into attending Bible studies…yet. In due time.
Brock changed lanes and passed a semi. “You could invite that girl.”
Chance plucked a bag of Nutter Butters off the dash. He had a penchant for sweets and missed his mom’s baking. These would get him through. “What girl?”
“You know what girl.” Brock grinned. “She’s new to town. You should make her feel welcome.”
A jagged piece of cookie must have gone down wrong, as Chance coughed. “The dog-toting OT?”
“Seriously, man. She could probably use friends.”
Brock was right. Mandy told him in the driveway earlier she was the only person Chloe knew in Refuge besides her mom. And now Chance and his father.
Chance worked kinks out of his shoulder. “Not to change the subject, but I need to get back into a better routine. I don’t want to be out of shape for a rescue.”
“Long as you keep working out like a fiend and hit most of the training ops, you’ll be fine.”
“But being youngest on the team, I’m the weak link.”
“You’re more experienced than most guys on Petrowski’s other PJ teams. Dude, seriously, don’t sweat it. You’ve been through a lot. Take this time to regroup.”
Chance flipped the visor up when Brock merged onto Pena’s Landing toward the B&B. “I just wanna keep my head in the game when lives are at stake. Ya know?”
“For sure.” Brock pulled into the driveway, cut the ignition and leaned forward abruptly. “No way.”
Chance looked up. Blinked. Leaned in. “Is that Chloe?” She sat on the B&B steps, looking uncharacteristically frustrated. Chance exited the car. Brock trailed.
Chloe’s body tensed and her expression looked uncertain under the wraparound porch’s dim light until she recognized the guys. She rose and wiped grime off of jeans that outlined shapely legs. “Hey.”
They stopped in front of her at the foot of the stairs. When she looked at Chance as if she could cry on his shoulder, his heart melted. “Hey, Chloe. What’s up?”
She waved a hand up to the tree where soft mewling originated. “There’s a stray kitten loose. I didn’t know it and Midnight got after him. He’s stuck up there. I’m not fond of falling from heights.”
“I assume the dog’s inside?”
She nodded. Chance searched the tree until he spotted the kitten’s eyes glowing between still-wet leaves that clung to a tangle of branches.
“Can you help me rescue him?”
Her voice drew his attention back. “Rescue?”
He was falling for her right here on the spot.
This was a girl after his heart.
Brock clamped Chance’s shoulder. “It just so happens that rescue is his specialty. Particularly animals and people.” Brock headed inside.
Chloe’s face fell, which meant she didn’t realize Chance wouldn’t need help getting the kitten safely down. “Brock has allergies. Cats and guinea pigs.”
“Oh. I suppose you’ll need my help?” She nibbled her lip, which unfortunately drew his gaze there and interrupted his focus. He struggled to decipher what she’d just said.
Thankfully, the recall that had earned him the PJ team job of memorizing intel didn’t elude him long. “I think I can manage. But you can watch if you want.” He grinned.
She stepped aside. “Okay. Do I need to do anything?”
“No, ma’am.” Except answer the question burning tracks through his brain. “Other than clue me in on what you’re doing here.” It wasn’t often he came home to a beautiful woman waiting at his door. Well, not his door. But still.
“I might ask you the same thing,” she said, her typical spunk returning.
“I live here. Well, used to, with Brock.”
She eyed the Victorian structure. “Oh. You did?”
“Yep. Miss Evie rented rooms to most of my team before they married their sweethearts.”
“Your special rescue team?”
“Yeah, how’d you know I’m on a rescue team?”
Even the cover of moonlight couldn’t camouflage the tinge invading her cheeks. “Um, er, Mandy might have mentioned it. I hope that was okay.”
He nodded. Not many people knew the elite status their team held in the U.S. military. Chloe might not know he was an Air Force special operative, but by the obvious respect in her eyes, she knew plenty well he was highly trained, distinguished military.
“I was staying with Mom, but Evie had a vacancy.”
“Need help moving your stuff in?”
“No, I didn’t bring much from Chicago because I’m not sure how long I’ll be staying. But thanks.”
Silent, Chance went to his Jeep. “Let me get some rope and we’ll get Miss Maple out of the tree.”
Chloe followed in a skip. “Miss Maple?”
“Yeah. She got herself stuck like syrup up there in a maple tree, and she looks like a clump of wet leaves clinging to the branch. So Miss Maple fits.”
She peered at the frightened kitten. “What if she’s a he?”
“Then we’ll call it Mr. Maple.”
“We?” She rose on tiptoes.
“Correction. You. It’s obviously a stray and Dad would cream my corn if I brought a cat in the house.”
Her finger went up. “Hey, that could work.”
“What?”
“Use the cat as a ploy to get your dad moving.”
Chance laughed, knowing she was joking but having fun with the mental images her statement provoked nonetheless. “Yeah, that’d do it. Can you imagine? He’d bullet out of that chair after me faster than I could say kitty litter.”
They both knew they were working against time in terms of Ivan regaining the use of his hands. But it felt good to see the rare humor in the situation.
She giggled, causing a carefree breeze to blow through him. He found himself slowing to allow her to fall into step beside him.
He also found himself laughing, genuinely laughing, for the first time in six long, hard months.
Chapter Four
Chloe felt fantastic when she heard Chance let loose and laugh like that. He caught her gaze and grinned.
“You look like a coon in a food-infested campground.”
“It’s the company.” He winked at her. Slow and sweet and scrumptious.
She drank it in like sipping her favorite tea as they meandered together, steps in sync, to the maple tree.
He donned gloves, scaled the treacherous tree as though it were a simple stepladder and rescued the kitten, all in under seventeen seconds.
Joy fluttered through her as he let go of the lowest branch and landed squarely on the ground. Tenderness coated her insides like invisible honey, sweet and soothing, as he cradled the kitten protectively like a baby. He rubbed fingers lightly over it in calming motions.
His lopsided victory grin as he approached was a bonus treat. She stepped close, careful not to make a commotion. The baby kitty panted in wide-eyed wariness and wiggled deeper into Chance’s embrace.
Seeing something that small and fragile nestled next to his sturdy bicep did something funny to her insides. Like super-sonic melting.
She reached to pet the kitten.
It hissed until Chance rested a calming hand on its fuzzy head and murmured soothing words. The whisper went through the recesses of her soul. Places no one had access to. She started to step back, but he gathered the kitten into his protective palms and passed the tiny critter to her.
It leapt to make a getaway but calmed the instant Chance’s hand blanketed its back. The kitten settled in her arms under his touch. Eyed him in adoring trust and mewed.
Chloe’s heart bent toward him in much the same manner.
Careful, this one could trip your heart up and hinder every dream you have.
He tugged out a cell phone. “I have a friend looking for a pet.” After conversing a few minutes, he ended the call and scratched the kitten under the chin until it purred. “Good news, little one. We found you a good home on the first try.”
“They want the kitten?” Elation and thankfulness skittered through Chloe. God had quickly answered her prayers for the abandoned animal.
“Yep. They’re on the way now. It’s my buddy Ben Dillinger. His stepdaughter even likes the name we picked out.” Chance walked with Chloe to the steps. They sat hip to hip and petted the contented kitten until Chance’s friends arrived.
“We’ll take Miss Maple to Refuge’s vet in the morning,” Amelia, Ben’s wife, assured Chloe, who offered them one of her pet carriers for the now-playful kitty.
Reece hugged Chloe and Chance. “Thank you! I love Miss Maple already. I promise to take good care of her.”
“Reece wants to be a vet when she grows up,” Ben, the tallest, cutest Asian-American man Chloe had ever seen, said as he brushed a fatherly hand along Reece’s hair, which haloed her face in ringlets.
Chloe knelt. “You do? My cousin Mallory is training to be a vet. She’s almost finished.”
“Maybe she can come work in Refuge,” Reece said as she hugged the kitten as it purred to the point that it vibrated.
Chance walked alongside Chloe as they accompanied the Dillinger family to their car with their new pet. “Refuge currently only has one vet. He’s an older gentleman looking to retire. He’s scaling severely back on business.”
Which meant another wrench in Chloe’s plans.
Amelia eyed Chloe carefully, as did Chance, observing as her steps stuttered and face fell.
“Thank you, Chloe, for caring about animals. I do hope you get to stay in Refuge.” Amelia hugged her. “You really brighten Chance’s days,” she whispered before pulling away.
For some reason Amelia’s caring statement lodged in Chloe’s throat, blocking words momentarily. “Thanks. Good to meet you. Miss Maple’s in loving hands.”
Chloe felt Chance’s eyes on her as the Dillingers piled in the car with an excited Reece and the contented kitten. Ben’s family waved as they pulled away.
Chance drew near. “You okay, Chloe?”
She sighed. “If I have no vet willing to come aboard, I have no foundation for an animal-assisted therapy program.” Chilled, she rubbed her arms. He followed her motions, then removed his denim jacket and draped it around her shoulders. She didn’t mind that he let his hands linger there a moment. “Thanks, Chance.”
He wrapped a friendly arm around her shoulder and pulled her in for a quick hug. Had it lasted longer, she may have been tempted to rest her head, and her problems, on his strong shoulders.
Just once, to let herself lean on someone else.
“Come. Tell me about it.” He seemed to read her mind as he nodded toward the porch swing. They climbed the steps and sat side by side.
“If my cousin wasn’t already with our Chicago-based team, I’d try to snag her to come live in Refuge.” But Mallory was engaged to a guy who wanted her in Chicago and uninvolved in Chloe’s program.
Time to think of something more pleasant than how her cousin, her best friend, was about to ruin her life by marrying a man who’d make her forego her dreams. Projects and programs that Chloe and Mallory had planned since childhood.
Speaking of programs, Chloe studied Chance. Had he not been in the midst of difficulty, Chloe might’ve hit him up to be part of her southern Illinois team. Though he’d likely be willing, it would be too much to ask right now.
Then his plans to pursue youth pastoring passed through Chloe’s mind again like a flesh-piercing arrow.
She scooted another inch away from him.
His long legs paused, the pressure pushing them in a relaxing back-and-forth swinging rhythm. He noticed.
She eyed her watch. “I should get to bed. I have back-to-back meetings tomorrow and a twelve-inch stack of papers to fill out for permissions and taxes, funding and zoning. Not to mention research on the citizens of Refuge to see if I can cull people to be on my team.”
“I might be able to help with that if you tell me what you need.”
Right now what she needed was for his cologne to stop overpowering her resistance to him.
She breathed deeply and wished breathing wasn’t so necessary for survival. “I like what you wear.”
He dipped his head to eye his T-shirt, emblazoned with a military emblem.
“I meant the woodsy cologne.”
Her face heated about the time his shy grin appeared. “Thanks. You always smell good too.” He bumped her shoulder with his, then left his arm resting against hers.
His nearness joined the cologne’s assault on her senses. She could so easily fall for this man.
But falling in love right now was far too dangerous to her dreams. Chloe stood. “If you’re serious about helping, come on inside.”
She led him in and they sat around her lighted kitchen table. Chloe lost track of time, lost herself in him and in the number of cups of coffee and time they spent bent over her table going through the phone book and her required steps for the Refuge clinic. She chattered and Chance listened and occasionally offered suggestions. Good ones.
Had Chance not been beside her, calming and encouraging at the helm of every obstacle and challenge that surfaced in her search for solutions, she might have thrown up her hands. Her cell phone chimed. When she saw it was after eleven o’clock, alarm shot through her.
“Chloe, this is Fiona’s mom. We’re at the hospital.”
“But the baby’s not due for another five months!”
“She’s in preterm labor. They’ve stopped it but said since the baby dropped, she’ll be on bed rest for the duration of the pregnancy.”
“Do you need me to come there? Can I do anything to help?”
“No, I think we have everything under control. Except that Fiona needs to rest, and she wouldn’t until we called you. I know it’s late, and I’m so sorry, but she wanted me to let you know she needs a medical leave of absence from the team.”
Chloe’s heart dipped, both from fear for her friend and her baby and because this would set Chloe back even more. If she had to keep putting out fires on her Chicago team, she couldn’t focus on building Refuge’s.
But truly, some things took precedence. People were more important than programs, period. Saving Fiona’s baby’s life was far more important. “Tell her not to worry at all. I’ll take care of it and cover her duties. Tell her also that I’m praying.”
“Thanks, Chloe. We knew you’d understand.”
Chloe hung up and just sat there, staring. Then she pressed her fingertips to her pulsing temples and released them with an overdue sigh.
Chance sat beside her. “I take it something happened.”
“Yeah. My best animal trainer on the Chicago rescue team is down for the count. Hospitalized with a problematic pregnancy. Please pray for the baby to go full-term?”
“Sure. Anything else?”
“Yes. Pray I can replace her quickly, and with someone very efficient. Otherwise, I will have to go back to Chicago.”
A weaker woman would have given up and gone back to Chicago right then. But Chloe was no quitter.
Chance rested a hand on her back. His presence sustained her, especially when she realized he was praying right then and there.
After he finished, a sense of well-being catalyzed Chloe. Vigor renewed, she pulled out her planning board.
Chance handed her dry-erase markers as she plotted her plans and needs. Despite his upbeat attitude, the more she wrote the more she became overwhelmed. Discouragement took stabs at her. She girded her courage and pressed on.
Untold minutes ticked by. “I’m getting tired. Maybe I need a break.” That whole quitting thing suddenly seemed appealing. But Chance’s enthusiasm over her program catapulted her on. As Chloe researched, more urgent needs and time-consuming tasks emerged.
“My to-do list is about a mile long,” Chloe groaned.
An owl hooted outside. Chance rose and stretched. Then he eyed his watch. “It’s nearly midnight, and I’ve got an early class in the morning with new recruits. If I didn’t have to get up before the birds, I’d stay longer. I need to chat with Brock a minute if he’s still up and grab a few things from his place before I go.” He offered her an apologetic glance, which is when she remembered she had his jacket still draped over her shoulders.
She went to remove it, but he shook his head. “I like the way it looks on you better.”
She brushed fingers along the dark denim, enjoying the rugged-but-soft texture. “Are you saying I can keep it?”
He smiled a slightly sad grin as a flash of nostalgia drifted like a sideways sunset across his handsome face.
“For a while, but not forever. It was the last gift Mom gave me before she died, or I’d let you have it.”
Her hand fell to his arm. “I’m so sorry.”
“Thanks. I know you’ve been there.”
She nodded. Swallowed back lumps. How had she come to care for this man already? Frightening. Not having words for once in her life, she nodded and her bangs slipped from behind her ear.
His vision drifted there and for a moment he seemed mesmerized. His hand moved as though to brush them back off her forehead, but his fingers curled into his hand.
She couldn’t deny the disappointment flooding her.
But it was for the best that they didn’t act on this emotional attraction. If they did, it would be a detriment to her dreams. She moved so her chair sat safely between them, creating a physical barrier like the one she was trying to keep in place in her heart.
“I’ll see you and Ivan tomorrow afternoon,” she said in her best professional tone. It must have fallen short because he dipped his head and grinned. The way his dimples seemed to wink at her, maddening! Flustered with herself, Chloe grabbed her papers and went into an organizing frenzy.
His grin only widened as he knelt to pet Midnight, then ventured slowly toward her door. He paused halfway and peered back at her. His eyes said he didn’t want to go. Her heart answered that cry with a squeeze and made her glad he took his time getting to the door. “See you tomorrow.”
“Looking forward to it.” Chance’s stuttering had waned the more time he’d spent in her presence. “Let’s do this again sometime. Often as we can.”
His kindness gave her something to look forward to. “I’d like that.” She reached to shake his hand. “As friends.”
He ignored her hand and stared deeply into her eyes. “I like being with you, Chloe.”
Don’t say it back. Don’t.
Hand snaking back to her side, she bit her lip against the sentiment trying to burst from her throat. If she admitted out loud that she liked being with him too, she might be tempted to let this fly like a fighter jet beyond the runway of friendship.
And she just couldn’t. Not with her dreams just within reach.
She felt adrift when he turned away and walked into Brock’s unit. The air around her grew empty and filled with loneliness.
She crossed her arms over herself and rested her hands along his jacket’s sleeves. Then she tilted her head down and breathed in his manly scent evident in the traces of woodsy cologne. Powerful, like the draw that had pulled his eyes to hers while he took reluctant steps away. Though he couldn’t possibly see in the window, she noticed that he cast glances over his shoulder, like he hadn’t wanted to end their time together.
She could relate.
After one last, lingering glance her way, he closed Brock’s door behind him.
Chloe remained on alert after Chance left, waiting to hear him emerge from Brock’s unit. What seemed like hours later, footsteps sounded on the boardwalk. Was she imagining that they paused outside her door?
Chloe took a step, nearly stumbled over Midnight, sleeping in his bed beneath the window, and watched Chance walk to his car. He must still be in the process of moving. He had armfuls of clothes and teetering stacks of books. Titles she recognized as global bestsellers, as well as famous classics.
He was an avid reader? This big, bad Special Ops soldier? There were so many layers to this man. “Special is right.” She sighed and closed her blinds so she didn’t feel like a stalker spying on him as he loaded the Jeep.
Since Chance seemed to do a lot with Brock, that meant she’d no doubt see Chance more than anticipated. She’d also see him while working with Ivan, but that was a professional environment. Here at Evie’s B&B she could be more casual, friendlier.
Chance had said his dad wasn’t typically this difficult, but that using Midnight might not work. In such cases, Chloe didn’t push the issue of animals in her therapy.
But Chloe felt in her gut that Midnight could help Ivan far faster and better than if she only used traditional therapy.
Ivan was already in jeopardy of it being too late, too long after the stroke to do much good as far as regaining dexterity and mobility.
Chloe yawned and rubbed her temples. It had been a long day, filled with a roller coaster of emotions. Chance’s unexpected friendship and her attraction to him. Fiona’s medical emergency. The complications with planning her program in Refuge. She headed toward her bedroom, knowing she needed to get some sleep so she could tackle whatever challenges the morning would bring.
The next evening, after a long grueling day of errands related to building her Refuge program, Chloe sat down with Ivan’s chart. His therapy had brightened her day, even though Ivan had been a real pill through it and refused most of her new exercises.
Complicating matters, she’d been disappointed not to see Chance. Ivan said he’d taken a new recruit to lunch because the recruit had asked about Chance’s church. That Chance had chosen to go to lunch rather than see her during Ivan’s session needled her, even though she knew her reaction was ridiculous.
Her fax machine bleeped and she approached it. Good. Ivan’s physician faxed her more of his history.
She kicked off her shoes, grabbed a pear and sat at the small kitchen table Evie had furnished.
Midnight lay down on top of her feet.
“Hmm. Ivan likes to work with clay. He has an Internet business and sells custom-made chess sets online. Let’s check them out, Midnight. What do you think?” While Midnight chased a katydid across the floor, Chloe went online.
Images of beautifully handcrafted games appeared. Chloe set down her fruit. “Wow. He is really talented.”
Empathy flooded her when a message appeared that said: “Due to family emergencies, we are unable to process orders at this time. We apologize for any inconvenience. Please check back next season.”
“So sad.” Chloe determined that minute to get Ivan to the point where he could work on his chess sets again.
More pictures scrolled across the screen. Chloe’s heart melted at the images of family and friends that came in and out of focus with the slide show.
“That must be Ivan’s late wife. Chance has his mom’s smile.” Speaking of Chance, image after image of him rolled across the screen. Some recent, some not.
“Wow. Ivan is really proud of his son.” She wondered if Chance knew all these photos were on here.
She giggled at one of Chance holding a stringer of catfish. “He looks about ten years old here. And severely sunburned.”
Another image scrolled. Chance in full dress blues. “Wow. Air Force guy. I must admit, he is so handsome he takes my breath away.”
The next image caused her face to flush. Must be recent because it was Chance, looking similar to now, on a lake in a fishing boat with Brock.
She leaned in, very close. They were both shirtless and standing in camouflage shorts flexing ballooned biceps, wash-board bellies and goofy grins.
She cleared her throat and grabbed papers off the table, then proceeded to fan herself furiously with them.
Thankfully, he was not shirtless in the next few photos. Those big, bulky guys must be part of his team. PJs or Pararescue Jumpers, Mandy had called them.
She’d look pararescue up after perusing Ivan’s site and chart and formulating a written game plan. Images on the family-owned business site caused even more compassion to well up.
“Midnight, good buddy, we really have to work on Ivan. Okay? Starting tomorrow, let’s do our best to help him get as much of his life back as possible.”
The dog licked her hand, which she normally wouldn’t allow. But she hadn’t paid much attention to him today.
Giggling, Chloe got down on the living room floor and played until they were both worn out. Then she took him for his evening walk and readied for bed.
She wrestled with her pillow. Flopped, tossed, turned. The more she thought about Ivan and Chance and the family photos and all they’d lost when they lost Chance’s mother and Ivan suffered his stroke, the more sleep eluded her. Turning her pillow to the cool side didn’t help.
Ivan’s Web site had given her intimate glimpses into their lives. And the Pararescue Jumpers site gave her a peek into the life of Chance, a true hero. The man who was becoming frighteningly intriguing to her and who felt far too familiar and fascinating for the little time they’d spent together.
And it seemed clear that the interest ran both ways.
Certainly the attraction did because she caught him checking her out every time she turned around, the same way she did him when he wasn’t looking, which wasn’t often.
This man was a rare breed. One who was, as their pararescue creed stated, willing to risk his life for others. The creed scrolled through her mind and left her more unsettled.
It is my duty as a pararescueman to save life and aid the injured. I will be prepared at all times to perform my assigned duties quickly and efficiently, placing these duties before personal desires and comforts. These things I do, “That Others May Live.”
That creed also meant he’d never give up his duty for any woman. Not even his wife. Just like her dad, his career would always come first.
Nevertheless, her determination to be involved in this family was about Ivan, not about Chance and not about her. She must really be tired. Otherwise her brain wouldn’t have brought the ridiculous and very premature concept of marriage into the mix.
If Ivan didn’t start rehabbing soon, he’d never regain use of his hand, which meant he’d never build his beloved chess sets again.
This case was time sensitive, and she owed Mandy a major favor. More than that, she’d come to care for Ivan.
Ivan had been worse than ever in his resistance this week. But that only fed her dogged determination. Even though time with Chance’s father cut severely into her planning and research time, plus the other work she needed to do to launch the animal-assisted therapy program proposal.
Chloe shook her head and punched her fist into her pillow, trying to get comfortable. No matter what opposition bounded in her path, she was determined not to let anything prevent her from going back. Slowly, she closed her eyes, plans marching across her vision as she drifted off to sleep.
Chapter Five
She was back.
With dogzilla.
And an armful of flowers so large they camouflaged her lovely face.
Chance was floored to find his dad’s neck craning to see the bouquet ambling up the drive. He had expected to meet his dad’s fury. Instead, he wore a slight, lopsided grin. “She came back again? Gutsy, that girl.”
Chance smiled as he reached to get the door for the lovely person God had sent to answer his most desperate prayer: that Ivan would snap out of his grief-driven depression enough to try to physically rehabilitate.
He knew Dad well enough to know that when he snapped back from the crushing blow of losing his soul mate, he’d regret not working harder to regain use of his limbs.
Chance swung the door open to see her vivacious grin, an expression that made his heart feel as if it hit a trip wire.
“Hey, soul-ja boy. Take this.” She plopped a large paper bag in his arms, not pausing to see if he’d protest.
Soul-ja? Maybe he wouldn’t tell her just yet that technically he was an Airman and not a Soldier. He rather liked the way the title rolled off her tongue.
Pleasant smells wafted from the bag, warm against his skin. He peeked. “You bought dinner?” Surprise streaked through him. His mouth moistened and his tummy rumbled.
“Nope. I made dinner. I bought the foam since you two bachelors seem hesitant to part with it.”
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