FRIDAY, OCTOBER 12
The last place he wanted to be was in a crowded ballroom with a bunch of military and their dates. If it weren’t such a good cause, he would have stayed at home, but while he might not be full-time military anymore, he still carried a reserve commission, and with it came an expectation of supporting the branch. How long did he need to stay at one of these events anyway?
It was all about staying long enough to be seen by the higher-ups and then leaving the moment they exited the event.
Frankly, he’d have more fun Sunday with Tiffany at the Franklin Delano Roosevelt Memorial than he anticipated now, wearing his dress blues uniform that he’d had to pull from the back of his closet.
Brandon Lancaster stood beside him, dressed in a tux that did nothing to hide his size as the two guys held up the wall. As a favor to a friend, Chandler had helped the former NFL linebacker find some resources as he recovered from a career-ending injury. Then, as Brandon had shared his vision for Almost Home, Chandler had found himself intrigued and wanting to help. Foster placements were an unfortunate reality for some deployed service members’ children. Knowing this man of integrity ran the home from a faith perspective and accepted sibling groups clinched the deal. Their friendship had grown to encompass more than the shared passion to help others.
Chandler shot his cuffs from beneath his jacket as he shifted his feet.
Then a woman caught his eye. She had the exotic look of a movie star with dark, loose curls and high cheekbones, but she also—
Jaime?
“You might want to stop drooling.” Brandon’s voice was droll as he stepped away from the wall. “I think she’s looking at me.”
“You wish.” There was no way he’d let his friend have an instant with his girl. His girl? What was he thinking? He couldn’t feel anything more than friendship between them. Not until he knew the state of her heart, something he’d have to move up the priority list ASAP, because in that moment he admitted it: his heart wanted nothing more than to dive into the abyss that was Jaime Nichols.
“I think you mean fine, as she is mighty fine.” Brandon took a tiny cracker with something unidentifiable topping it from a passing tray and tossed it into his mouth.
“Any good?” Best to ignore his friend’s statement about Jaime until Brandon was distracted and Chandler could chase her down. Who was she stopping to talk to now?
“Passable.”
“I’m surprised you had time to taste anything.”
“It’s a superpower of mine, taste every molecule as I gulp. Remind me why we’re here?”
“My boss said this was a good place to schmooze.” And had given him the tickets with strict orders to enjoy himself.
“That’s right.” Brandon brushed a hand across his mouth. “Well, don’t see we’re doing much of that standing here.”
The man was right. The last place Chandler really wanted to be was in this place at this moment. Getting his wisdom teeth pulled without Novocain sounded like a better experience . . . unless he could get time with Jaime. One dance with her . . .
He and Brandon placed a few bids on silent auction items along the edge of the room while he tried to keep tabs on Jaime. His name on the lists would serve as evidence he’d been to the event, in case his boss took the time to look that closely. It would be nice to erase monkey duty from his job description, but his boss insisted that civilians liked to see the dress uniforms. It helped open their pocket-books to provide the extra finances the Veterans Administration relied on to help returning servicemen and servicewomen reintegrate with their families and life after a tour of duty.
But right now he needed to see if Jaime was okay.
It was only two nights earlier she’d been terrorized.
It wouldn’t be hard for someone to do something similar here in such a mass of people.
There she was, still dancing with her dad. He smacked Brandon’s shoulder. “See you later, big guy. I have something to tend to.” He headed into the fray.
Jaime’s dress was a startlingly rich blue, like a sapphire, making it easy to follow in the sea of more muted colors. He caught up with them after they’d spun around the dance floor a few times. “Mr. Nichols, may I have this dance with your daughter?”
Her startled gaze collided with his, and he noted the strength there. She looked like she belonged in this place with all these people. A reminder of all that was beautiful in the world and what the soldiers fought for.
“Jaime?” Her father matched her intensity and then notched it up a few levels. The man was flat-out intimidating, so Chandler stood a little taller, a hint of “at ease” in his stance.
Jaime’s gaze bounced between the men. A slow smile grew across her face, making her even more lovely, something Chandler would have sworn wasn’t possible until he watched the transformation occur.
“I think I’d like that very much.”
He whisked her from her father’s side before the man could state an opinion. A moment later her mother joined him, and Mr. Nichols led her onto the floor.
“Should I be worried?”
“About what?” Jaime looked around and spotted the couple. “I’m glad he’s taking Mom out. She loves to dance, but he insists he has two left feet.”
“I don’t.” He spun her in a tight circle, and she laughed.
“No, you don’t.” She sighed and leaned against him as the music slid into a slow song. She fit . . . in a way that felt divinely unfair and perfect.
“Miss Jaime Nichols, you are incredible.” He side-stepped around another couple and kept them moving in smooth steps that put his academy education on display.
She leaned back. “You can say that knowing what you do about me?”
The question felt important, like so much depended on how he answered. “Everyone has a past.”
“Not all are as bleak as mine.”
He stopped in the middle of the floor, the string quartet continuing the song while he tipped her chin up so his eyes connected with hers. “It does not define you.”
“It always will.” The words whispered across his heart.
“God can redeem anything.”
She stiffened and her eyes widened as she glanced past his shoulder. She refocused slowly, and when she did it felt abrupt, like something broke between them.
“Not you too.” She slid from his arms and started looking at the couples swirling around them. “You can’t bring God into every conversation. Where are they?”
“Where are who?” How had a perfect moment so quickly degraded?
“My parents. I’m ready to leave.” And she walked away, leaving him alone in a sea of uniforms, wondering what had happened.