Steadfast Soldier. Cheryl Wyatt

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 show 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.

      The dog wasn’t going anywhere unless someone made him.

      “Here.” Chance handed Chloe the umbrella and ran to the other side of the car. Opening the door, he reached in and—just lifted the dog. Not only that, he lifted the terrified monstrosity of a mutt as if he were a stuffed toy. Chance expertly carried him toward the house.

      Midnight must have felt secure because he didn’t struggle except to search for Chloe over Chance’s well-developed shoulders and back.

      Rain soaked his shirt and caused it to cling to his skin so every cut, corded muscle became visible as he sprinted with her dog to Mom’s door.

      She regretfully ripped away her gaze and rushed behind them with the unique umbrella.

      Chloe’s mom flung the door open. “What in the world?” Mary stepped aside as the dripping threesome filed in.

      Chance stopped on the rug and set the dog down. “Midnight, stay,” he said to the dog, which not only complied but eyed Chance like he was his new best friend.

      “Good