Steadfast Soldier. Cheryl Wyatt

fiddled with her oversize wristwatch. “This is my mom, Mary. She is working for Mandy part-time as a receptionist in her doctor’s office until she can get her greenhouse business up and running here.”

      “What do you grow?” Chance patted Midnight.

      “Flowers, mostly.” Mary snapped out of her gawking. “Oh, forgive my manners. Let’s get you a towel and something to drink, young man.”

      “Thank you, but I’m fine. I need to get going.” Chance shifted from foot to foot. “It was nice to meet you. Have a nice day, Mary.”

      He turned to Chloe. “Later.” He slid her a lopsided grin, then slipped out the door and into the rain, leaving her speechless for the second time in her life.

      Later. Sounded like a promise, as did the lazy way the word had drawled across his tongue. Despite rain-soaked clothes, Chloe broke out in a sweat.

      “My goodness, but he’s a looker!” Mary scuttled around the room.

      Chloe’s sentiments exactly. “He’s a Good Samaritan on top of all those piles of muscles and mile-long legs.”

      “A strapping Samaritan. With no identifier that he’s spoken for.”

      “I noticed that too,” Chloe said in a small voice. Ringless finger. She didn’t like that her eyes and heart had headed so quickly in that direction.

      “Later. That sounded a little like an invitation. At the very least, an inquiry.” Mary hawk-eyed Chloe.

      Later. The softly spoken word and the part question, part promise in his silky-suave voice wilted her. For when the word had slid like sugar from Chance’s handsome lips, she’d felt a surge of hope.

      And hoping to see Chance again on a personal level was the absolute last thing she should be doing.

      Especially if the man planned to be a pastor.

      Mom returned with dry towels. “So who was that?”

      Chloe draped one over herself then Midnight. “The son of the client I met with today. I couldn’t find my way in the storm. He passed by and saw me. Helped me get here.”

      “And carried your wet, stinky dog in and gave you his umbrella and went without?” Mary drifted to the door as if to glimpse another look at the man who’d so thoroughly rescued her daughter.

      “Yes, he is quite mannerly.” Chloe curled her fingers around the umbrella and tried to ignore the compelling fragrance of Chance’s cologne lingering on it.

      Mary handed Chloe a piece of paper. “Evie of Refuge B&B phoned today. She has vacancies now.”

      Chloe took the message. “Oh, good. Thanks.”

      “You could stay with me a while longer.”

      “I know. But by setting down roots, the folks on my Chicago team will know I’m serious about presiding over the Refuge clinic if I get it going.”

      “When, not if.”

      Chloe reached over and kissed her mom’s cheek. “That’s what I love about you. Always believing in me.” Chloe called Evie back then turned to her mom when she hung up the phone. “She has three newly remodeled, furnished rooms available at reasonable rent. She said to come on over.”

      “Want me to drive with you?” Mary asked.

      “Nah. Stay out of the rain. Give your arthritis a rest. Evie said she has three keys, a box of dog biscuits and a pan of Mountain Dew Apple Dumplings ready and for me and Midnight to choose our favorite room.”

      Mary chuckled and walked Chloe to the door. “Sounds like Evie. Welcome to Refuge, Chloe.”

      If she could stay.

      Chloe hadn’t inherited all of Mom’s optimism.

      Chapter Three

      “This one’s my favorite.” Chloe pulled out her neon-green therapy band at Ivan’s next OT session.

      Ivan’s scowl intensified. “Who cares?”

      “I do.” Chance knelt. “Come on, Dad. Please try it.”

      “I said no. I’m tired of everyone bossing me around.”

      “We’re trying to help you get better.” Chance looked to Chloe. Desperation gnawed at him. Dad had refused therapy several days in a row. How long would she keep coming if Ivan refused to try?

      “I’m sure Miss Callett has other places to be, Dad. She’s been here three hours today already. Please, don’t waste the lady’s time.”

      Chloe put her hand on Chance’s arm. “It’s okay. We’ll give it a rest for now.” She rose and rolled up her band.

      A sinking sensation hit Chance when she stuffed it, along with her clipboard, inside her bag.

      Clearly she was done.

      Ivan lifted his head. Eyed her and Chance, then turned away when they caught him looking.

      “Thanks for trying.” Chance walked Chloe to the door.

      “No problem.” But the sudden panic piercing her face when she eyed her watch belied her confident words. Chloe faced Chance. “I’m sorry I can’t stay longer today. I’ve a meeting I’m late for. Bye, Chance.”

      She ran to her car. Midnight wasn’t with her today. Chance appreciated that she’d tried without him.

      Hadn’t made a difference. He closed the door and fought his frustration with Dad.

      “Next time you mow that yard, boy, mow this carpet too.” Ivan tried to wheel himself across the floor, but the carpet was too thick and the chair wouldn’t budge.

      “Where do you need to go, Dad?”

      “Anywhere you aren’t. Put me to bed.”

      Chance clenched his jaw and pushed the chair across the floor to Ivan’s room. “Dad—”

      “Just let it go, son! Let me go. Just…let me go.”

      Chance’s throat clogged. His eyes stung. “I can’t.” He helped his dad into bed and was surprised to see tears drip on his hands. His or Dad’s? It didn’t matter. They mingled. Chance tucked Ivan in. His father turned away. Glared at the wall.

      “I know this is hard for you. I love you, Dad. Too much to let you go.” His voice cracked.

      A grunt met his words. But that was okay. Losing Mom had ripped any reticence out of Chance about telling those he loved how he felt. His father just switched on the television and turned it up. The two men sat in silence, staring at the screen.

      Two hours later, Chance heard a distinct rumble outside as a motorcycle pulled up. “Dad, Vince is here to visit with you while I make a grocery run.” Chance stared at the figure in the bed. “Want anything special?”

      “Yeah,” his dad grunted a reply. “Celery, peanut butter and a roll of duct tape the width of your lips.”

      Chance grinned with relief. “For my mouth, right?”

      “Yes, and a lock to keep that hippie therapist and her creature out of this prison you’re forcing me to live in.”

      Chance chuckled grimly. “I’ll think about it.” He went to step out and close the door.

      Ivan twisted. “Wait, what’s wrong with the mutt?”

      “Nothing that I’m aware of.”

      “Just wondered, since he was a no-show today.”

      Chance paused. Was it possible? Did his father actually care a little bit about Midnight?

      Maybe there was hope after all. At this point, he’d grasp that tiny grain. His father’s