Two minutes later, when all the old pictures were back in the box, Chance raced down the stairs. Tessa was on his heels. At the open back door, she heard a whining sound. “It’s coming from over there.” She nodded to their right.
He looked over his shoulder at her, saying, “I knew I heard something. See, I’m not crazy after all.”
She smiled cheekily at him. “Well, now that part’s debatable.”
Doing a double take, he chuckled. “That’s my girl, still have the old spunk left in you.”
When he held out her hand, she put hers in it. Lean fingers wrapped around hers and she swore her heart tugged at the same time.
“Come on, let’s go investigate.”
Less than a minute later, she followed Chance to the alley. She stilled as she spotted movement under a big piece of cardboard. “Ah, Chance, maybe we shouldn’t disturb him.”
Just then a pitiful whine reached down into her middle. Sympathy shot through her.
“Is that human?” he asked under his breath, as he silently advanced down the dimly lit, narrow passage.
She listened closely. It came again. “No, not human. It’s some kind of animal and it’s probably hurt.” Tessa rushed forward.
He clamped a steely arm around her middle from behind. “Whoa there, sunshine. It could strike out at you if you’re not careful.” Easing her behind him, he squatted down, and then gingerly lifted the piece of dirty cardboard.
Two big soulful brown eyes stared up at Chance, and then her. Her heart hitched. “Oh, a dog.” She knelt down beside Chance and held out her hand to the whimpering animal. Slowly, his tongue came out and licked her fingers. She giggled. “It tickles.”
Slowly, she drew him out. Long, velvety brown ears flopped nearly to the ground and his low to the ground body lumbered out of its hiding place. Brown, white, and tan patches covered him.
“A basset hound,” Chance said with a smile in his voice, petting its head. “What’s this?” The change in his tone had Tessa’s full attention. Chance pointed to the front left paw the animal held up as he limped a little closer. “He’s hurt.”
***
As he lay on his side on the Vet’s covered stainless steel table, Tessa petted the dog’s soft coat. He made small cooing sounds in the back of his throat, obviously liking the attention. Warmth spread through Tessa. If she could fall in love with an animal at first sight, she had. “That’s all right, boy. Once we get the x-ray results back, we’ll get you fixed up and home in no time.”
Chance moved to the other side of the table. The heat of his gaze had her lifting her head. “Home?” he asked tightly.
She frowned, picking up on the tension radiating from him. “Yes, home. Ours.” At that, a muscle jumped along his jaw. A chill went through her. “Why not? He has no collar or tags, no identification, nothing. I’m keeping him.”
“Hell, Tessa, you can’t be serious.”
Suddenly, a flash of memory stole through her mind. As a boy Chance had a huge Saint Bernard who’d followed him everywhere. An image of her granny calling the pound because the dog appeared to be foaming at the mouth snuck up on her and filled her with cold realization. She cursed silently. “Oh, Chance, I’m sorry…about Manfred.” Tears smarted her eyes and she blinked them away. “Granny thought he was trying to bite me instead of lick my hand.”
If he could grow any stiller, he’d have been made out of granite. “Forget it.” The two clipped words held such pain.
“How can I?” Her voice cracked. “It’s because of me he was put to sleep.”
“Not you. Your granny’s to blame.”
Searching his gaze, she read so much hurt and betrayal there. Her heart clutched painfully. The truth poured out of her as she said, “She hated him, you know. It was just an excuse to get rid of him. I begged her not to.” She stopped, too choked up to continue.
Across from her, Chance reached out a hand to cup her cheek. With his thumb, he brushed away a tear clinging to the edge of her eyelashes. “I know,” he said roughly. The warmth of his hand and the pain in his voice shot through her.
For a long moment she stared into his eyes, watching the agony swirl in the depths. Slowly, he dropped his hand back to his side. “Do you see why I can’t give you that baby now? And why we shouldn’t keep this dog?”
She gasped. Looking down into the soulful brown eyes of the dog, she felt a cold sensation rush through her. “No. I won’t let her do that to this one. I swear.” Gulping hard, she lifted her chin and stared into Chance’s eyes. “I’m keeping him.”
He stiffened. “No.”
“Yes.”
“Damn it, Tessa!” He dragged a hand down his face.
“Don’t fight me on this one, Chance. You’ll lose.”
He jerked his head up and dawning chased across his face. “This is about the baby, isn’t it?”
Determination ran through her, growing stronger by the second. She shrugged. “Could be.” Thrusting out her chin, she said, “You may deny me my baby, but you don’t have any say about the dog, understand?”
A grimness settled around his mouth. “Who’s blackmailing who here?”
His words were like a dagger. “I don’t like it any more than you do,” she whispered brokenly. Reaching out to him, she grabbed his forearm. “Please understand, I’ve never had anyone or anything that loved me back in my life. Well, not like I wanted them to.”
His obvious discomfort struck a nerve deep inside her.
“You didn’t either, did you?” she asked, trying to form the words as her mind raced. “Your granddad loved you, but there was always this sense of disapproval coming from him, wasn’t there?”
“I tried.” He cleared his throat. “But it was never quite right. In the end, I always disappointed him somehow.”
A strangled chuckle caught in her back of her mouth. “Well, I always disappoint granny. In her eyes, I can’t do anything right.”
In the thick silence that hung between them, Tessa felt it pulse with unspoken regrets, missed chances, and a sense they shared more than they ever realized.
He swore under his breath, then turned away from her. Leaning his fisted hands on the low counter against the wall, the muscles in his back rippled with suppressed emotion. She tried to speak, even opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
In a low tone, he said, “No one’s ever hung around, stuck it out with me.”
The few simple words struck Tessa to her soul. Empathy wrenched through her. Slowly, she continued where he couldn’t go himself, “Your parents left by dying on you. Manfred left, unwillingly, but he did. Your wife left you, too.”
“Now granddad,” he said softly. He straightened. Deep grooves marred his rugged features around his mouth.
Swallowing hard, she said, “So now you either choose not to get involved or you leave before they can leave you, right?”
“Yeah,” he choked out.
“Even with him.” Tessa glanced down and rubbed the dog’s soft velvety ear. A thought whispered through her mind and she lifted her head, gazing into Chance’s tortured eyes. “It’s not just because of granny, is it, that you don’t want a baby? You realized that you’d have to walk away.” And you wouldn’t do that to a baby, you wouldn’t do what had been done to you, leave him or her.
Just then the veterinarian popped his head in the door. The tall, gray-haired bespectacled doctor said, “Just as we thought. Just a sprain. He’ll heal fast.” He patted the dog’s head. “Isn’t that right, little fella? I’ll get an assistant to help me finish up. Be back in a jiffy.” He walked back out again, leaving the echoing silence behind.
Chance blew out a heavy sigh. “All right, you can keep the dog.” The grudging acceptance throbbed in his roughened voice.
Softly, but with an underlying firmness, she said, “I wasn’t asking for your permission, Chance.”
He dragged a hand through his hair, and then chuckled hoarsely. “Yeah, I guess you weren’t. No one ever does.”
A heavy blanket of silence descended once again.
When the assistant and doctor bustled in a few seconds later, Tessa barely listened to their cheery exchange. She focused on Chance, reading the subtle nuisances in him. He held her gaze for moments, then, when she’d found what she was looking for, he shifted his stare away, his discomfort palpable.
Her middle clenched. He’d known that with the boundaries of the will, he could summon the courage to go through with a marriage to her. The time limit was his saving grace; he’d be the one to walk away this time, unhurt, unscathed. But will I?
Chapter 13
Chance shifted through the piles of papers strewn across the small desk in what passed for the pub’s office. “Bills,” he muttered, “nothing but bills.”
Sighing heavily, his gaze rested on the three-foot high iron safe sitting in the corner. He’d have to clean that out of all the old papers, too, eventually. After a cursory look through it the first day back, he knew old business records littered the interior. He groaned inwardly at the thought of spending hours going through all of it.
He wasn’t a pencil pusher by any means. Hated it, in fact. Right at this moment he’d much rather be taking apart a car engine, elbows deep in grease with the pungent odor filling his nostrils. Now that’s what he was good at, he thought, imagining the well-known details of how to fix a head gasket.
Shaking his head, he turned his attention back to his desk. But he’d already forgotten where he’d left off and what he’d been assigning to each of the different piles.
If only he could concentrate on the task of sorting through the backlog of paperwork, he’d be just fine. The cramped, musty area didn’t help one bit. But it was the pulsating music coming from overhead that distracted him most of all. “Tessa.”
He shoved the invoices away and leaned back. The old metal chair squeaked in protest. It brought a wry smile to his lips as he thought of his granddad doing the same. He’d hated paperwork just as much as Chance did.
Sorrow shot through Chance at the thought of his grandfather. It had been only a little over a week since his death and there was never a day that went by he didn’t think of the funny old man. “If only I could have proved myself to you when you were alive. Made you proud of me,” he whispered under his breath. A well of regret flooded him.
The tempo of the music changed and pulled him out of his misery. Looking up at the water-stained ceiling, he pictured Tessa leading her class of little ones around. A soft smile played around his lips. He’d spied them on more than one occasion in the last few days. “God, she’s great with them.” Playful, funny, loving… “Yeah, she’d make a wonderful mother.”
Something low and deep tugged inside of him. Closing his eyes, he breathed in sharply and swore he smelled her sweet scent. They slept side by side each night, not touching, not moving. But in the mornings, when she got up for work, he’d roll over and grab her pillow to him, inhaling her wonderful fragrance that lingered in the folds of the linens. Now he could summon it up at will and that frightened him.
His thoughts centered on her more than he dared admit to. While they lived together day after day, he was still starved for her. He wanted her, longed for her, in fact. Now the dog she named Max occupied her spare time, almost to the exclusion of him. She showered Max with attention and affection while barely speaking to him. “No, I can’t be jealous of a damn dog,” he muttered, disgusted at the thought and himself.
“Hey, who you talking to, boy?” Walter’s gruff voice yanked Chance back to the moment.
He sat up quickly. The loud screech of the chair grated along his nerves. “No one,” he said abruptly. Guilty for daydreaming about his own wife, he jerked his head in the direction of the bar. “Anything wrong out there?”
“Nope.” Walter’s frame still filled the doorway. His shrewd, dark eyes narrowed, drawing his thick gray brows down. “It’s her, isn’t it? She’s got you twisted up in knots, hasn’t she?” Without waiting for an answer, he went on, “Hell, what’s this world coming to anyway? You got the hots for a Warfield. As I live and breathe.”
He stomped off. Chance shoved back his chair and raced after him. “Now wait just a minute, Walter.” He caught up with him in the nearly empty pub. The few men sitting at the long, gleaming bar turned at his appearance. Several called out and he returned their greetings with a wave of his hand.
In the meantime, Walter was getting away as he moved to the far side behind the bar. Throwing over his shoulder, he said, “By the way, Father Tom left a message for you. Seems like he’s got some rowdy kids he wants you to help him with. Said he’d stop by later and talk to you about it.” With practiced ease, he picked up an empty tankard and filled it brimming with beer.
Chance’s heart jumped. “Help kids?” he muttered, excitement bubbling up. He’d never thought he could do anything without a bunch of money, but maybe with Father Tom’s assistance he could find a way around that for now.
Shaking off the temporary change of subject, Chance grimaced and stepped behind the bar. The sight and scent of the beer had his mouth watering. God, what I’d do for a beer right now. Bravely, he made his way to the bartender. He had to get this settled once and for all. “What was that crack about a Warfield all about?”
“You heard me,” Walter said, stepping around him in the small aisle to tend to another empty mug.
“Take it back.” Even to his own ears, he sounded like a little kid challenging someone bigger and older.
“No.”
“Damn it, Walter, look at me.”
The older man glanced over his shoulder and threw Chance a smirk. “You can’t deny it, can you?”
“You’re crazy.” Anxiety built inside him, bubbling up and ready to explode. He had to get control of the situation. Blowing out a breath, he said in a low voice, “It’s nothing, really.”
Walter shot him a knowing look. “Yeah, right.”
“You wanna bet.” He was fighting for his life here. He couldn’t, no, he wouldn’t, let anyone know just how much he was aching for his own wife.
“You’ll lose if you do.”
“Try me.” Sweat trickled down the back of his neck. He had everything he could do not to swipe it away. Maybe if he made the bet, he’d keep away from Tessa. Hell, he’d give anything a shot just to halt himself from taking what wasn’t his right to take. As the days passed, it was getting more and more difficult to find excuses not to. This might do the trick.
But a voice in the back of his head only laughed at his puny efforts.
“You’re on.” Walter held out his hand. Chance took it in his and shook. "What are we betting?”
***
“A week’s paid vacation,” Chance muttered in disgust as he used his key and let himself in the quiet house. “Gran, you here?” Her car was parked in the driveway, but she could have always gone off with a friend. “Gran?”
Still no answer. He walked in, closing the door behind him. A flood of memories rushed back as he went from one room to another. Every place in this house held some precious moment from growing up. “Granddad,” he whispered, recalling how the old man used to play hide and seek with him for hours on end. A smile tugged at his lips.
Peeking out the kitchen window, he saw his grandmother then, on her knees and stooping over her flower garden. Rushing outside, Chance called out, “Hey, you shouldn’t be doing that, it’s cold out here.”
She looked up at him, a tiny frown carved between her brows. “I couldn’t let the freeze kill these beauties, honey.” Tugging at the big roll of plastic, she covered her bulbs, placing heavy stones on the edges to keep the wind from whipping the covering off.
“Here, let me do that or at least help.” Side by side, he worked with her in silence for a long moment. Another memory whispered
through his mind. “You used to call the flowers your babies. Man, you used to spend hours and hours out here.”
“Still do on my good days.” The warmth and affection coloring her words spoke of her deep passion for gardening. “They kept me sane all these years.”
“Granddad?”
She chuckled at that. “Him and you, both.”
Joining in her laughter, he figured she’d had her hands full. “So why’d you put up with us anyway?”
“Simple.” She heaved another stone, but Chance took it from her and set it down where she pointed.
“Simple?”
“Yep. Love. It keeps you bound even when sometimes you’d rather throw it all away during the tough times. It also gives you hope that things will get better.”
“Did they?”
“Yes, when you came he did. Oh, he had his setbacks in the early days, but for the most he succeeded.”
“So my being dropped in your laps out of the blue had some good points?” A knot the size of his fist sat heavy in his middle. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know that answer.
She stilled, turning to him. He couldn’t look at her, wouldn’t dare look into her eyes. “Oh, honey, of course it was good for us. You brought us back together, kept us from grieving for your daddy ’til we shriveled up and died. Caring for you helped us to move forward instead of being stuck in the past.”
The weight in his belly eased and he breathed a sigh of relief. “Speaking of the past, Gran. Tessa and I found some pictures, strange ones where all of them our torn.” He dug in his back pocket, pulling out the one he’d singled out to ask her about.
She seemed to have gone stark still as if she were made of stone. “Gran?” He held out the old black and white snapshot, but she only stared wide-eyed at it. Placing it into her hands, he said, “Here, take a closer look. Maybe you can remember why someone ripped this one and all the others, too.”
Lies of the Heart (Heart Romance #3) Page 10
