by Cheryl Wyatt
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 c
ontrol. 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.
