Читать книгу Steadfast Soldier - Cheryl Wyatt - Страница 11

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.