SUNDAY, OCTOBER 14
An hour later, Tiffany was running around the fenced backyard in pursuit of the Nichols family’s Maltese, Happy. Jaime tried to relax but kept a vigilant eye on the little girl. Happy yipped, and Tiffany belly-laughed. Where usually the dog drove Jaime crazy with his barky happiness, she could appreciate the joy he elicited in the child.
Tiffany’s squeals filled the space amid the crunch of leaves that needed to be raked. Her buzzing phone pulled Jaime from watching the chase. “Hello?”
“Hey.” Chandler’s slow enunciation tickled her ear. “You got them safely tucked away?”
“Yes.” Jaime turned back to the yard as more squeals made her wince. “I don’t know if you can hear that, but I think Tiffany’s in love with my parents’ dog.”
“I’ll try to shield Aslan from that knowledge.”
“Good idea. He could eat Happy in one gulp if he wanted.”
“One of those lap dogs?”
“Yep.” She leaned her forearms on the deck’s railing. “Are you ready to collect me?”
“Wondered if you were ready for pizza delivery.”
Jaime turned to look inside the kitchen where her mother was a cooking whirlwind while Madeline sat at the table nursing a cold can of Pepsi. “I think my mom’s cooking enough for a small army. Come join us.”
He hesitated, and she tried not to read anything into her impromptu question and his delayed response.
“I can kill more time if you need it.”
“I don’t. My mom’s philosophy has long been the more the merrier, which is why me as an only must have been a disappointment. She’s one of those women who needed a brood.”
“You haven’t disappointed them.”
“No way you can know that without really meeting them.”
“Touché.” There was a sweet silence where she knew she had him.
“It’s a home-cooked meal.” She straightened and walked to the door. “Mom, you have enough for one more?”
“Sure. Probably enough for a basketball team.”
“That’s what I thought. Thanks.” She closed the door. “Hear that?”
“I did. We’ll be there in five minutes.”
“See you soon.” A silly sappiness spread through her at the thought of Chandler meeting her Special Forces dad. Quick interactions at court and the military ball weren’t enough to see what her dad would think of this man. Her father was a hard judge of men, and she needed to know if he had the same read on Chandler’s character that she did.
Officially meeting Jaime’s family rather than sitting near them in court shouldn’t mean anything. Not really. But it felt like the next step. Problem was she wasn’t ready.
And the critical separation of faith remained between them. That was something he couldn’t waver on, but he needed to see for himself that Tiffany was all right. At least that’s what he was telling himself. He might even believe it.
He pulled to the curb in front of Madeline’s sedan.
A minute later he paused as he strode up the sidewalk with Aslan. Was that laughter? It sounded like a young girl’s, and it was musical. Aslan pulled him to a stop to sniff a tree and then led the way around the small home to the side yard. Chandler peeked over the small fence and smiled at the sight of Tiffany running around, braids flapping in the breeze as a small, white dog yipped at her heels. Aslan’s ears perked and he woofed, barely gaining the attention of the small dog before it raced after Tiffany.
“I think you have competition, buddy.”
Aslan ignored him, attention locked on the activity within the yard. His tail wagged and he pulled against the leash before woofing again. Chandler glanced around and then walked to the gate. “Let’s join the fun.”
As soon as the gate opened, Aslan tugged the leash from his hand.
“Great.” So much for introducing the animals with supervision. The yipper didn’t seem to care as he redirected toward Aslan, who raced for Tiffany. The moment he reached her, Aslan stood and put his paws on her shoulders as the girl laughed and hugged the large golden.
“Aslan?” Jaime’s voice reached him about the time he heard someone clomping down stairs. “Where’s your owner, since I know you didn’t drive?”
He woofed at her and Chandler imagined a happy doggy smile on his face. His dog was as smitten with Jaime as he was.
Chandler closed the gate and walked toward the action. “Sorry about letting ourselves in. Aslan was pretty intent on joining the fun.”
Jaime grinned at him, her hands stuffed in the back pockets of skinny jeans that fit just right. He hadn’t noticed before that the coat she wore was the color of her eyes, making them startlingly bright. He swallowed hard. She stole his breath in a way no one had since Rianna. As he stood in front of Jaime, reality hit him. He was a goner where she was concerned.
Did she feel the same way about him? And what would he do if she did?
“You okay?” Her grin slipped.
“Yeah. The question is how’s our girl?”
Jaime turned toward Tiffany. “I’ve never seen her like this. She’s practically carefree.”
“Yeah. Even with Aslan she hasn’t been this free.”
“Aslan is a safe place for her, but there’s something about my dad’s pipsqueak, Happy. He pulls people out in a way little else can.” The dog in question jumped as if to grow Aslan-sized.
“He’s got heart.”
Jaime nodded. “That he does.”
Chandler took in the carefully groomed yard. “Is this your dad’s hobby? It looks better than most golf courses.”
“Actually, it’s my mom’s. You should see it in the spring when her bulbs burst from the ground. Then in the summer it’s her roses and peonies. There are also a few crepe myrtles by the alley.” Jaime smiled as her shoulder brushed his. “The yard is her canvas.”
“Well, she’s a master artist.”
“You should tell her.”
Chandler nodded, but all he wanted to do at this moment was pull this woman, the one in front of him, into his arms—the exact thing he couldn’t do.
“Jaime, reintroduce me to your friend.” Her mother came off the deck. The family resemblance was striking. So this was Jaime’s future. It was a nice vision of what could be.
“Chandler Bolton.” He extended his hand and she took it for a firm handshake.
Her mother gave him the once-over, and he stood straight, wanting to meet with her approval.
“I’m Joann Nichols. Bill will join us for dinner.” She smiled, but it was tight. “I’ve lived long enough to presume everyone’s as bad at remembering names as I am.” She studied Chandler, and he tried not to shift his feet. “You’re the one keeping Jaime out of trouble.”
“Mother.” Jaime rolled her eyes like a teenager.
“Nothing to it, ma’am.”
Joann gave a nod. “I like you. Now come on in. All of you. It’s time to get our guests settled and then have some dinner.” She glanced at Chandler. “I imagine there are some bags you can help with.”
Madeline frowned as her fingers brushed against the bruises around her neck. “Tiffany and I brought everything in with us.”
“That’s all you brought?” Joann turned to Jaime. “I thought you said they’d be staying for at least a week.”
Jaime shrugged. “I can always take Madeline back for more if needed.”
Her mother clucked over Madeline and then cooed as Tiffany came in, her cheeks chapped from the cold and a smile gracing her face. “I think the time outside was good for you.” She hollered down the hallway for her husband. “Time to eat, Bill.”
“Coming.” A deep, resolute voice came from somewhere down a short hallway. A minute later a man in his early fifties walked into the kitchen, bearing erect and firm. This was a man who knew who he was and wouldn’t be blown about by the winds of challenges. He extended his hand while studying Chandler. “Bill Nichols. We met at the hearing and briefly at the ball.”
Chandler stood even taller and allowed the man to study him, glad for every moment in the gym. He didn’t want to be measured lacking by this man’s man.
Through dinner Bill Nichols kept a careful eye on him but allowed the conversation to flow without interrogating him about his intentions.
As he watched the family’s careful, almost stilted, conversation with their daughter, Chandler knew that restoring the relationship would still take some work, but he sensed they were trying. The abuse Jaime had experienced impacted her whole family. Maybe he could help find a way to ease the strain.