Читать книгу Steadfast Soldier - Cheryl Wyatt - Страница 13

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.