Steadfast Soldier Page 6

  Chloe giggled again, then feigned offense by plopping balled fists on her hips. “Why not? Most people who eat my food live to tell about it.”

  Ivan looked like he wanted to laugh at that but pressed his lips together. “Furthermore, I never heard tell of any kinda legit therapist using animals.”

  Chloe grinned then mimicked his dad’s scowl.

  “I sure wouldn’t want that thing running around shedding all over everything,” his dad continued.

  “I’ll make sure my assistant doesn’t shed in your home.” Now Chloe looked close to laughing.

  Ivan looked like a bullfrog puffing to the point of poof. “This ain’t my home!”

  “Is that right?” she said a smidgen too pleasantly, as though spurring his father on in his rant. Was she trying to get him riled enough to come out of the chair and kick her and Cujo out? Or was this one of the unconventional therapist’s stealthy maneuvers Mandy had raved about?

  Either she was a complete ditz or a compelling genius.

  Which one? He observed Chloe carefully.

  She pulled an RC Cola out of her bag, then quickly popped the tab and set it near Ivan’s strong arm. He picked the can up. Chloe set her bag on his table, covering it so nothing could be placed there, and extended a piece of cake.

  Chance smiled.

  Without thinking, Ivan reached with his affected arm for the piece of cake she extended, and Chance realized she was tricking him into using his weaker muscles.

  “Yes. That’s right,” Ivan ranted, still not realizing he held the cake in his weak hand. It was the first time since the stroke he’d gripped something for that long a period.

  A huge wave of relief rushed over Chance when he realized what was going on. No ditz here.

  Chloe was not only a genius but a stealthy one.

  Just how did she know his dad loved RC Cola and banana-split cake? He’d find out her sources and thank them. How he’d missed that sweet dessert, but more so the woman who loved to make it, then watch her “boys” eat it. Mom.

  Chance’s eyes and throat burned.

  If she were here, she could get Dad to do his exercises. But the fact that she was gone was the reason Ivan wouldn’t. Dad didn’t want to go on without her. But Chance was determined to make him, because one day life without her would hold hope again.

  Chloe coming back today was the first spark of it that he’d seen in Ivan’s eyes since the funeral, proving he’d also secretly feared Chloe wouldn’t return.

  Her face lit with humor as his father jabbed a crooked finger toward Chance as he now stepped into view. “He moved me out against my will and stuck me here in this dumb little over-carpeted domino box.”

  Ivan gestured toward Midnight and slanted his eyebrows toward the tip of his nose. “And that’s no assistant. That’s nothing but a goofy-looking, web-footed bird hound.” He bent his head toward the dog’s paws. “Why, look. He ain’t even growed into his feet yet.”

  Ivan eyed Chloe and cocked his head to the side which, because of the nerve damage caused by the stroke, could have been menacing or comical depending on which side of Dad’s face one stood on.

  “What’s he doing here anyway? Besides getting zillions of pokey hairs all over the ugly floor?” Ivan asked.

  In truth, Chance agreed with that.

  What kind of therapist used pets in their work? His bushy tail, wagging a hundred times a second, was weapon enough to sweep knickknacks off shelves should the dog decide to take an uninvited stroll through the place.

  Chloe knelt and scrubbed Midnight beneath the chin. The warm, loving look she issued the dog made him envy the mutt for the affection. “Time to show off what you’ve got.”

  Midnight stepped toward Ivan, rested his chin on Ivan’s knee and sighed like they were the best of friends.

  Ivan stilled. Seconds ticked by, and then Ivan’s face lit. “Say, he reminds me of a dog I had when I was just a pup.” Ivan got a sweet, reminiscent look in his eyes.

  Suddenly, Chance saw. Clearly. There was way more therapy going on here than met the eye.

  He looked at the therapist in a new light. All of a sudden, so did his father as he caught Chance observing Chloe. Was the room’s recessed lighting playing tricks on him, or did a flash of momentary amusement just enter Dad’s new lopsided expression?

  Midnight inched closer to Ivan, who returned his attention to the dog. “Mangy mutt. That’s what you are.” But less bite resided in Ivan’s bark this time.

  Midnight was far from mangy. His glistening coat and eyes and muscular build spoke of spectacular care and healthy helpings of food and exercise. Chance knew a thriving animal when he saw one. Midnight didn’t have a dirty hair on his slick, black body.

  After polishing off the cake and RC, Ivan shifted in his recliner. The pencil Chance had earlier placed on his chair-side table rolled onto the floor.

  Chloe whispered a command. Midnight picked up the pencil and placed it back on the table. Ivan’s eyes lit and he started to grin, until he noticed Chance and Chloe watching. He reverted to scowling again. If his arm would work right, Chance was sure he would cross them staunchly over his barrel chest.

  “Hmph. Happenstance.” Ivan leaned over and bumped the table with his quad cane until the pencil rolled off again.

  With merely a nod from Chloe, Midnight picked up the pencil and placed it farther back on the table.

  “S-smart dog,” Chance said, hating the stutter that came back when he least expected it.

  If Chloe noticed, she didn’t show it.

  “Sure is. Aren’t ya, buddy?” The pretty, warm smile she doled out to the dog ramped Chance’s pulse. Suddenly, that was reason enough to want her gone. Or to be gone himself.

  “I’ll check on the tea.” Chance started to step from the room, but Chloe’s gaze raised swiftly and sharply. The intent, imploring look she sent Chance arrested his stride. She rose and placed in Ivan’s strong hand the leash attached to Midnight’s chest harness.

  Ivan grunted his protest, but Chloe kept her confident stride and left Ivan’s side.

  What did she think she was doing, leaving her dog near a disabled, disgruntled man who so apparently wanted nothing to do with it? Chance wondered.

  As if reading his question, Chloe mouthed out of Ivan’s eyeshot, “Trust me.”

  Ivan’s mouth, or the one unaffected side of it, gaped as she stepped toward Chance, now feet away from escaping via the kitchen.

  “Say! Come back here. What am I supposed to do with this?” Ivan protested.

  Midnight let out a soft woof!

  “I’m letting you mind him for me while I talk to Chance about the treatment plan.”

  Was she talking to his dad or the dog? Chance couldn’t be sure. Both looked equally concerned about her departure. Midnight moved into a protective stance near Ivan, as though guarding him from harm. He also eyed the pencil, ready to retrieve it should it fall again on his watch.

  At the door, Chloe smiled at Ivan. “I’ll just be a moment with your son. If you need something, ding the bell on Midnight’s collar and he’ll come get me.”

  Because Chance had been a late-in-life baby, most people mistook his parents to be his grandparents. It was something that always irritated Ivan. Chance warmed another degree toward Chloe because she hadn’t slipped and said grandson.

  “Wait. What bell?” Ivan looked worried about being left alone, a common fear since the stroke, especially since the doctor told him if he wasn’t compliant with treatment and therapy, he could have another one.

  Chloe must have sensed the fear. Face softening, she returned to Ivan’s side immediately. “It’s right under here.” She pointed to the bell beneath Midnight’s chin, which is when Chance noticed the scars.

  Scars that looked like tears or gashes.

  What on earth? Had Midnight been attacked by another animal? Sure looked like it. What had that poor dog endured with those injuries? But Midnight seemed well cared for and healthy now, physically and
emotionally.

  Chloe patted the dog, then faced her palm to his nose. “Stay.”

  Midnight looked for a split second like he wanted to tackle her and lick her half to death, but instead he pulled his panting tongue in and stiffened obediently, like a dutiful soldier during roll call.

  Wow. Impressive. She had excellent dog-handling skills. “Good dog,” Chance said.

  Midnight’s gaze veered to him and for a second he looked like he wanted to rush Chance and finagle a few pats and clandestine nuzzles. But he only moved a fraction before his gaze snapped back to Chloe. Then he swung his massive head around to keep careful watch on Ivan and the persnickety pencil.

  Midnight only removed his gaze long enough to watch Chloe intently as she met Chance near the kitchen door. “Keep an eye on him while we talk in here a moment.”

  Again, Chance wasn’t sure whether she was talking to the dog or Dad, but when she looped her arm through his elbow and tugged him into the kitchen as if she’d known him for ages, he felt momentarily stripped of speech. If he said anything right now, he’d undoubtedly stutter.

  They parted and Chloe squealed. He whirled, wondering if she’d seen the little mouse who hadn’t wanted to move out when Chance and his dad moved in.

  But she was staring at the stove. “Is that blooming tea? For me?” Her voice reminded him of a little kid excited over the biggest present under the tree.

  He grinned and poured the hot water in a glass pitcher then dropped the bulb into it. Chloe moved close enough that her elbow brushed his, courtesy of the small counter space, as they watched the flowering tea bulb bloom.

  Might be his imagination, but as the tea flower slowly opened, it seemed something bloomed further between him and Chloe too. As if thinking the same, she turned to study him. “I’ve never met a guy who knew what blooming tea was. You’re something else, Chance Garrison. You know that?”

  He shrugged. “The tea was Mom’s. So I h-hope it’s not stale. She always entert-tained her Vault ladies with it.”

  “Vault ladies?” Chloe tilted her face. He enjoyed the shape of her profile at that angle, or any angle really.

  “Yeah, sh-she used to host a women’s p-prayer group in her home. The ladies named it the Vault b-because th-they knew when they told Mom something, she’d keep it locked in confidence forever.”

  “So is your whole family Christian?”

  Chance nodded. “Yeah, my p-parents have been but I only recently committed. I haven’t been able to get Dad to go to church since Mom died though.”

  “He’ll come around.”

  “I hope so.” Chance eyed her, noticing she didn’t elaborate on her own faith, or lack thereof. Interesting.

  He headed to the table to pull out a chair for her, but she tiptoed back to the door. Putting a silencing finger to her mouth, she inched near the crack and motioned him close.

  Chance complied. At six feet tall, he stood about six inches above her head. Sweet strawberry scents wafted toward him and he had to consciously keep himself from breathing deeper since his nose was close to her silky hair.

  He never liked strawberries more than in this moment.

  “Look,” she whispered, awestruck.

  Chance trailed her gaze to find Dad still grumbling, yet reaching with his affected arm to begrudgingly pet the dog, who continually nudged his hand with gentle affection-seeking motions.

  Overwhelmed with what he was seeing and realizing what she’d accomplished, Chance pulled her around by the shoulders and looked at her with what he knew was the same expression those he rescued from harm always wore.

  “Amazing. You just tricked him into doing his hand exercises, didn’t you?”

  “Amazing,” she echoed teasingly. “You are as smart as the cupid posse says.”

  “Huh?”

  She grinned. “Celia, Amber and Mandy talk nonstop about you.”

  “W-wh—”

  “You catch on quick,” she whispered and winked. Not only that, she patted a gentle hand along his cheek and turned back to watching Ivan through the crack.

  He’d figure out the meaning of her words later. Right now, he focused on the lovely shape of the mouth that spoke them. The warmth of her smile and the feel of her hand on his face. The smell of strawberry-scented hair inches away. It all reminded him of just how long it had been since he’d had the pleasure of holding a beautiful woman in his arms.

  Chance had put aside any thoughts of romance or relationships since his mom died and his dad became ill. He was dedicated to helping his dad rehabilitate, and he knew he had some of his own emotional healing to do. Those things—and his duties as a PJ—were his priorities for now. Because the last thing Chance wanted was to lose the parent he had left.

  Therefore, the last thing Chance needed was to be interested in a lady.

  So he should forget how mesmerizing the unique gold spackles dotted through the deep green in her eyes were.

  Instead, he found himself trying to memorize them.

  Chapter Six

  “I can’t believe myself.” Chloe shoved Midnight’s pillow toward the center of her Suburban’s passenger seat. “I’ve never acted so unprofessionally on the job.”

  Her attraction toward Chance that had flared without permission or warning traipsed through Chloe’s mind like an insolent, taunting child.

  “What bothers me most is my undoubtedly perceptible reaction to it and that, for the third time in my life, I was rendered speechless—a rare feat in itself.”

  Three out of three times that she could recall being speechless in her twenty-five years, and they all involved Chance. His nearness had jumbled her thoughts to the point she’d lost her train of speech.

  She clicked her tongue in self-disgust and yanked the strap of the doggy seat belt across Midnight who, as usual, listened to her incessant banter with undying loyalty and a rapt expression.

  She could probably say, “You’re an oversize drool-ball with lanky legs,” and as long as she smiled while she said it, he’d pant in perpetual contentment. But his even temperament was exactly what made him the perfect canine candidate for her animal-assisted therapy program.

  Now, if she could only convince the good people of Refuge that such a program would be worthwhile here.

  After securing Midnight, she climbed into the driver’s seat and adjusted her visor. “Whew! Southern Illinois summers are way warmer than Chicago, boy. It’s going to take some getting used to, huh?”

  Feeling eyes on her besides Midnight’s dark and devoted ones, she peered back toward the house.

  Chance, looking lethally cute with feet squared and thumbs hooked through pockets of camouflage fatigues, stood on the porch watching her go. A flush crept from her neck to her cheeks and back. She waved bye.

  A slow, shy smile carved an irresistible dimple into the edge of his generous mouth as his sturdy hand raised to bid her a chivalrous goodbye, as he stared at her appreciatively.

  An automatic answering grin tried to wrestle its way to her traitorous mouth.

  Fighting it with all the facial strength she could muster, Chloe nodded politely and responded with a stiff, professional nod even though her cheeks were about to explode from holding the erupting smile in.

  Deep down, something in her had longed all of her adult life to have a man like that look at her that way.

  Hands planted primly on the wheel, she pulled away from the curb and her urge to gawk at the beautiful man.

  “Shew-wee, but he’s cute!” She scrubbed Midnight behind the ears and eyed her phone. Two messages. One from Mallory, one from Mom. Chloe pulled over in a park and called her mom back since they were set to meet for dinner.

  She sounded winded when she answered. “Hi, Chloe. I’ll be running late. I’m still at work.”

  “Rough day?” Chloe rolled her window down and appreciated the fresh floral air and greenery of the park. Mom would melt over these vivid flowers. All in full bloom too. Hopefully, Mary would get her flower garden gre
enhouse up and running soon.

  Even though Mandy would lose a good worker, they knew how much Mary missed growing bright plants to sell from her home-based florist business. Refuge-area nursing home patrons would benefit from the fresh flowers Mary was bound to take there on visits with Chloe and Midnight.

  So much left to do before they could launch all of that.

  In the meantime, her mom occupied herself and kept the bills paid by doing medical transcription.

  “Two back-to-back emergency pediatric surgeries put us behind on paperwork. So I’m hanging around to help Dr. Manchester-Briggs out.”

  “Does Mandy know I met with the client she referred me to again today?”

  “Yeah, she asked how it went. I’ll let you talk to her.” Her mother recited directions to the restaurant before passing the phone off to Mandy.

  “Hey, Chloe. Did you meet Chance and his dad again?”

  Why so much emphasis on Chance? Phooey. Probably her imagination. “Yes, and I brought Midnight again.”

  “How’d that go?”

  “They didn’t toss us out.” Chloe laughed. “Although if Chance’s dad was capable, he might have.”

  “Chance is a strong person. But I think losing another parent soon would just about do him in. He so badly wants his dad to get better. At the same time, he feels like the weak link of his team. He’s having trouble eating and sleeping. The guys all understand.”

  “Sounds like he’s pretty hard on himself.” Why was Mandy discussing Chance rather than Ivan? Cupid posse on the loose, just like when Chloe had talked to Celia and Amber about bringing Midnight to visit their special-needs students. All they had done is gush about Chance.

  “Yeah, he claims he can’t keep everything together emotionally. But his drive to help his dad and be the best PJ he can is paramount and his faith steadfast.”

  Steadfast. Great attribute. Fitting for Chance.

  “If there’s one word to describe what I know of him so far and what I’ve learned about him from you and the cupi—er, his friends, steadfast is it.”