A Family Man

by Mindy Neff

  Josie cursed under her breath when the power went off for the second time in four days.

  “Mama!” J.T.’s scream pierced the air an instant after Josie’s sewing machine stopped in midstitch and the house plunged into darkness.

  Without thought for the delicate fabric, Josie bolted out of the chair. “Mama!” J.T. cried again.

  “I’m coming, baby. Just stay where you are.” Thunder boomed, rattling the windows. Before the panes had stopped shaking, lightning arced, illuminating the frightened little boy standing in the middle of his room, clutching a floppy-eared, stuffed rabbit.

  Josie scooped him up. “It’s okay, sweetie. It’s just a storm.” She patted his back and hugged him close, giving her eyes time to adjust to the darkness before she tried to move. She was fairly certain the lightning had struck a transformer.

  “I’m scared.” J.T. buried his face in her shoulder.

  “I know, honey. Mama’s here,” she crooned.

  “I want Chase,” J.T. mumbled.

  Josie froze in the act of rubbing his back. “What?”

  “I want Chase.”

  Josie didn’t quite know what to say. Her son had always depended solely on her for comfort. Now he was asking for someone else. She felt a pang of jealousy, but deep down inside, she admitted to herself that she wanted Chase, too. The idea of having somebody to lean on—to turn to for strength—was starting to look awfully appealing.

  And now J.T. had verbalized what she’d tried to deny would happen. He’d grown attached to Chase. They both had.

  As her eyes adjusted to the dark, Josie made her way toward the living room, careful to keep a certain amount of distance from the windows.

  The intensity of the lightning grew bolder, striking, booming, cracking, sounding more like a war zone than a storm. Each reverberation caused her to flinch. Josie could feel the beat of J.T.’s heart pounding against her own. She hugged him closer, soothing him, refusing to give in to panic.

  She wasn’t sure if it was her imagination, but the air suddenly seemed filled with static. It felt as if the hairs on her arms were standing on end. More frightened than she could remember being, Josie backed farther away from the front window. Lord, it was close. Blue-white flashes arced one right after the other, lighting the yard, making it appear like daylight outside. She counted the seconds to mark the distance of danger, but her mind had hardly gotten past one thousand and one before another flash streaked the windows.

  With the next deafening boom, Josie saw sparks fly through the air. For an instant, she felt paralyzed, trapped in indecision and fear. One of the pecan trees in the orchard across the road had been hit. The limb split and crashed to the ground. Flames licked at the bark. Where the rain had been relatively light in comparison to the fierceness of the storm, it now picked up, beating against the house in pounding sheets.

  “Don’t like that,” J.T. whimpered.

  “I know, baby. It’s almost over.”

  Once the rain picked up like this, the lightning posed less of a threat. It meant the storm was moving off. She watched out the window, as the sky lit up once more. One thousand and one, she counted silently, one thousand and two…

  A pair of headlights flashed in the lane. Josie felt her heart give a glad leap. Chase’s truck had just pulled up, his timing coinciding with the burst of thunder that split the heavens.

  She hurried to the door, trying to dismiss both the relief and the happiness she felt at the sight of him. Timing his footsteps on the porch, she opened the door just as he reached it.

  His cowboy hat had kept a lot of the rain off him, still he dripped puddles as he swiftly crossed the threshold and closed the door.

  “Everybody okay here?” Chase asked.

  Josie nodded, feeling foolish that her nerves were stretched so taut. She’d lived here all her life and had weathered many a storm.

  J.T. whimpered again and twisted his body, reaching out, his fingers clutching thin air as he nearly leapt from Josie’s arms.

  Chase peeled off his coat and took the boy. As his son snuggled into his arms, emotions swelled in his throat. Protective instincts made him want to soothe. It’s okay, now. Daddy’s here. The words echoed so strongly in his mind, he wondered if he’d said them aloud.

  “Pretty nasty out there,” he said to distract himself.

  “A tree’s been hit over in the pecan orchard,” Josie said. “Should we call someone?”

  “I passed it on the way in. The rain’ll take care of it.”

  “Good grief, Chase. You could have been hit by that lightning.” Her voice sounded breathless. Was she reacting to the storm, he wondered, or to him? “What are you doing here, anyway?” she asked.

  “Being neighborly. It’s what us Southerners are good at.”

  Josie shook her head. She wanted to gripe at him for bulldozing his way over her life, but his crooked smile got to her. “I’m a big girl. I don’t need hand-holding in a storm.”

  “Well, I do. How about it, sugar? What to hold my hand?”

  Josie laughed. She couldn’t help it. Nerves? she wondered. Or just plain old attraction? “You’re hopeless. I could use a cup of coffee.” With a good shot of brandy. “Want some?”

  “Power’s out.”

  “A common occurrence these days,” she said, deadpan.

  He grinned, shifting J.T. higher on his shoulder. “Don’t look at me. I swear it wasn’t my fault this time.”

  Josie bit the inside of her cheeks to keep her smile at bay. His brush with the electrical wires wasn’t a laughing matter. “The stove’s gas. And I’ve got instant.” Cautiously, she skirted the end table.

  “That’s what I like. A resourceful woman.”

  By the time Josie returned with candles and two cups of coffee, J.T. was fast asleep in Chase’s arms. She paused in the doorway, her heart doing a little dance at the sight of her son curled so trustingly against his father’s broad chest.

  Chase looked up. “I love the way he smells.”

  “Baby shampoo.”

  “And you.” His gaze locked onto hers. “Your scent’s all over him,” he said softly. “What’s it called?”

  “Escape.”

  “Not tonight.”

  “N-no,” she stammered. “That’s the name.”

  “I know.” Her gaze still clung to his. Unlike her scent, he wouldn’t let this woman escape his arms tonight.

  Her green eyes were wide with awareness. Awareness of him. Her compact body in snug jeans and a soft pink sweater had him thinking about heat. Neither one of them was going to need that coffee to take the chill off the cool evening.

  Chase stood slowly. “Give me a minute to put him down.”

  While he went to lay J.T. down in the bed, Josie lit the candles and arranged mugs of coffee on the living room table. Her hands trembled slightly and her body throbbed. There had been a promise in Chase’s eyes. A promise she found herself anticipating more than she should.

  A promise she could not give in to.

  “Looks like a seduction scene in here.”

  Josie’s heart skipped a beat. He looked rugged and sexy in his jeans and flannel shirt. Power and sexuality were as much a part of his being as each breath he took. She probably shouldn’t have laced the coffee. She had a hard enough time keeping her wits when she was around this man. “If I’d planned on seduction, I’d have brought the wine.”

  He crossed the room, his stride slow, sure, and eased down beside her on the sofa. He took a sip from his mug, then raised a brow. “Brandy, hmm? You going to get me drunk and have your way with me, sugar?”

  She smiled again, despite herself, but shook her head.

  “I could change your mind.”

  That’s exactly what she was afraid of. “J.T.’s in the house, remember?”

  “Asleep,” he reminded her, shifting to run his fingers through her unbound hair.

  “Chase—”

  “Come on, sugar. Ask me to stay the night.” His finger trace
d a path down her cheek. Deliberately, it seemed, he took the mug from her hands and placed it on the table alongside of his. “You might as well admit that you want me as bad as I want you.”

  Josie tried to ignore the way his fingers toyed with the hem of her sweater. She also tried to ignore his words, and how accurately they hit the target. “People are starting to talk, Chase.”

  “So let them.”

  “Your truck’s been parked outside my house a lot lately. During the day’s one thing. All night is pushing small-town limits.”

  “Dottie doesn’t seem too concerned about those limits.” His palm slipped under the hem of her sweater, his fingers barely teasing the soft skin of her midriff.

  “What?” What did Aunt Dottie have to do with Chase staying the night? With him sitting this close, touching her, it was difficult to formulate a thought.

  “I happened to spot old Mr. Potts going out to his Cadillac about five in the morning the other day.”

  “So.”

  “So, his car was parked smack in the middle of Aunt Dottie’s begonia patch.” His warm palm rested against her stomach, causing her to suck in her breath.

  “Surely he didn’t run over her flowers.” She caught his wandering hand in hers, stopping him before she lost all sense of purpose.

  “Seeing as they’re practically covering her front porch and drive, I reckon he did.” She jumped when his thumb brushed the pulse point at her wrist. There was no way she could hide its erratic beat from him.

  “That was bad of you to be spying.”

  “I wasn’t spying. I was working. Dusting starts early for me. So how about it?” he asked again. “Since the older folks don’t fret about gossip, why should we?”

  “I wouldn’t worry if it was just me to consider. But anything I do reflects on J.T.”

  “Didn’t your mama ever recite the saying about sticks and stones?”

  She leaned slightly away from him. “Do you actually believe that?”

  He shrugged. “It worked for me.”

  Candlelight played across his dark hair, flickering in his intense eyes, eyes that held shadows, echoes of a small child who’d been hurt, a child who’d forgiven but never forgotten. She wanted to know more about that child he’d been, wanted to know more of the man he’d become.

  “I can make you forget about the storm. About the gossip.”

  She knew he could. Anticipation sizzled, burning her. Too much of her life was wrapped up in caution. But even desire couldn’t erase the fear—the fear of taking something for herself at the expense of her son.

  “What happens when you’re through making me forget?” she asked, begging him to come up with an excuse, a logical, workable reason to make it all right.

  “When the storm’s still there and the gossip’s even stronger. When reality returns? What about then, Chase? Then how will I forget?”

  Chapter Nine

  Chase didn’t have the answers she sought, didn’t know how to get around her fears. He only knew he wanted to taste her again, for just a few brief minutes, to hold her in his arms and erase the shadows in her eyes. He wanted to sweep her up and take her as high as he could, make her forget all about safety and control and the wagging tongues of society. Strike a bargain with her. A family bargain. A bargain that seemed more hopeless as time went on.

  He stared at her for one long moment. Then he angled her head and fused his lips with hers.

  The contact was electric, rivaling the storm that beat against the windowpanes. He remembered another night when driving rain had accompanied fierce passions.

  With tongue and teeth, he explored her mouth, letting her taste what he had to offer, begging her to accept. His heart was beating like a hail storm on a tin roof.

  He loved the way she kissed him back, the way her passions ran deep. She was an avid participant, bold and unafraid to take and give pleasure. Even as a stranger, that night so long ago, she’d stunned him with the force of her need, imprinting her taste and scent on him so he’d been unable to forget. She responded quicker than a flash of lightning. That he could draw such emotions from her made him feel invincible and thoroughly male.

  In the corner of his mind where sanity still reigned, he felt her slight withdrawal, felt the bite of her long nails as her fingers tightened on his shoulders.

  He’d known it was coming. The protest, the ever-present uncertainty. Yet he kissed her once more, a long, tender foray that promised even as it conceded.

  At last he lifted his head and drank in the sight of her face. Her green eyes spoke of passion, apology and sadness, a bittersweet sadness that seemed so much a part of this woman. A sadness that he’d responded to so many years ago—that he responded to still. Dark, silky hair fell back from her temples, spilling over the cushions of the sofa.

  “I won’t rush you, sugar. At least not on this. But I’d still like to stay the night.”

  “Chase…”

  “I’m not asking you to sleep with me. But I promised J.T. that I’d stay.”

  She sighed and sat up, running her fingers through her hair. “I wish you wouldn’t make promises to him without consulting me.”

  “What was I supposed to say to him? Wait just a minute, son, while I go ask your mother?”

  She shrugged and Chase pressed his advantage. “I suppose I could go on home and just come back early. But if he wakes up in the night and finds out I’m not here, what does that say to a little guy who puts all his hopes and trust into an adult?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “You’re not playing fair.”

  “Aw, come on.” His finger stroked up and down the length of her arm, smoothing and ruffling the nape on her sweater. “You’re not gonna make me go back out in that storm, are you?”

  “You shouldn’t have been out in it in the first place.”

  He could tell she was about to give in. “But aren’t you glad I was?”

  Josie sighed and eased back against the cushions of the couch. When he slipped his arm behind her and drew her against his side, she didn’t fight him.

  “It offends my sense of independence when you try to take over the way you do. I don’t need rescuing—from my farm duties, or household repairs or from power outages and lightning storms.”

  “Ah, sugar. I don’t want to take over.” His lips gently caressed her temple. “Unless it’s in bed. Now there, I definitely want to take over.”

  “Hush.” His words thrilled her more than she cared to admit. She wondered if that made her weak, the fact that she reveled in his strength, was turned on by his power and decisiveness, his ability to make her body burn. She’d have to be very careful, for with just a simple look or touch, this man could make her forget all reason.

  They sat in silence for a long time, listening to the fall of rain, gentle now that the storm had moved eastward.

  Chase felt a contentment he hadn’t experienced in years. With Josie in his arms, her breasts pressed against his side, and his son asleep just down the hall, he figured life couldn’t get a whole lot better.

  “Chase?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Earlier, you said something about sticks and stones and words not hurting you. Did you have a rough time as a kid?”

  “Yeah.” Thinking back on his early childhood days was a guaranteed way to shoot his contented mood. “Before James married Mom I took a lot of guff from other kids about not having a daddy. That all changed, though.”

  “Because of your stepfather?”

  “He’s not my stepfather. James Fowler adopted me.”

  Josie frowned. The vehemence of his statement told her without words that he’d defended that title more than once. “Did you want him to?”

  “Hell, yes. He’s my dad in every sense except one.”

  She absently patted his leg, soothing, an instinctive gesture meant to convey that she wasn’t one to judge. “I guess that’s sort of nice. That he chose you.”

  “Yeah. He could’ve just married Mom. But he wanted us
to be a real family.”

  “Do you have other brothers and sisters?” Besides Bobby, she thought.

  “No. Mom had a rough time having me. She never was able to get pregnant again.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Chase shrugged. “It didn’t matter to Dad. I appreciated that about him. I overhead him and Mom talking one night. She told him she wanted to give him children.” Chase’s arm tightened around Josie’s shoulder and he felt an odd flip in his stomach, that same giddy feeling he always got when he thought back on the conversation he’d shamelessly listened to.

  “Dad said he already had a child. That Mom and I were the best things that had ever happened to him. He said he was a man whose cup was full to running over.”

  “You’re very lucky.” Josie couldn’t imagine either one of her parents expressing such love. “Did you know about Leroy then?”

  “No. Mom wouldn’t ever tell me his name. When James came into our lives, I stopped asking. He made me feel secure and safe. I never felt the need to know after that.”

  Josie shifted to look at him. She felt the tension in him, knew this conversation had to be costing him. “Then why did she say anything?”

  “Dad thought she should. Said I had a right to know. She told me the night before she died. A few days before I met you.”

  “Oh.” She remembered him telling her that he’d just buried his mom the day they’d first met. It seemed that both of them had been dealing with the heartache of death. In her case, it was imminent; in his it had been final. And together that night, they’d planted a seed of life. She started to share this thought with him, but he wasn’t through with his story.

  “At first I thought she was telling me because she thought without her around, James might not want to be part of my life anymore.”

  “Chase, surely—”

  “I know. That was stupid, and Dad set me straight right away. He’s a giant of a man, in more than just stature. He’s humble and kind and soft-spoken, a simple farmer with a love for airplanes.”

  “He taught you to fly?”

  “Yeah. And he taught me about life. He told me that whatever I decided to do with the information Mom had given me was up to me. But he doesn’t believe in holding grudges. Says it takes all kinds to make up the human race, and every man ought to have forgiveness in his heart, because you never know what the circumstances are behind a person’s decisions. He let me know that his love for me was unconditional, and he was proud as hell to call me son.”