by Cheryl Wyatt
“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 j
ob 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 s
how 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.
