Steadfast Soldier. Cheryl WyattЧитать онлайн книгу.
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 job 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