Page 78 of The Heartbreaker (Chandler Brothers 3)
Chase sucked in a deep breath, then forced a calm release. While Rick walked Pearl to the car, Chase was forced to admit two things. His brothers’ lectures had distracted him from watching the window and the guesthouse to make sure Samson didn’t sneak out on them. And with Samson on the loose, Sloane could no longer be alone. It wasn’t safe.
Because if her father’s men went looking for her, Sloane, like Samson, would be a walking target.
* * *
The smell of fall permeated the air in the old tree house. Wood walls prevented the biting wind from whipping around, but a small window let a cold draft inside. And Sloane was freezing. Not that it mattered. She had no place she could go, and so she’d been alone here for the last few hours.
Curling her legs beneath her, she shut her eyes and leaned back, when without warning, the sound of someone climbing the rickety ladder leading to the tree house took her by surprise.
So did her visitor.
Samson eased his body into the small doorway and sat down beside her. She eyed him warily, unsure why he’d seek her out after rejecting her earlier. Refusing to make any overture, she tightly hugged her knees and waited.
“You deserve better than someone like me to be your father.”
She clenched her hands at her sides. “It’s not up to you to decide what’s best for me. And besides, we don’t determine our gene pool. Fate does that.” And she’d take the man fate had provided for her.
He wore an oversize army-green jacket and wrinkled khakis. His straggly white hair was windblown and his bearded face possessed the ravages of a life that hadn’t been kind to him. But in his eyes, she saw a depth of feeling and caring she hadn’t noticed before. He was obviously a man who hid his emotions well, letting them out only when he trusted the response.
And since Sloane had already reached out to him, maybe he trusted her now.
“So you’re stuck with me.” He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and rocked in place.
“That’s one way to look at it.” Sloane’s lips lifted in a grin. Drawing a deep breath, she decided to extend the olive branch once more. “I prefer to think fate has blessed me with two different but very good men as father figures. You’ve just come to me later in life, that’s all.”
He tilted his head to one side. “Why are you being so nice about all this? About me?”
“Why wouldn’t I be? Besides the obvious reason that we share bloodlines, we also missed out on a lot. I want to catch up. Get to know my real father.”
“And what a stand-up man he is.” Samson gestured to himself in disgust. “Can’t compare to the senator, can I?”
She shook her head, noticing yet again the self-deprecating way he spoke about himself, making her wonder about a life that had beaten him down so badly. But she also noticed his change in tone, manner, and speech. No longer the country bumpkin with incorrect grammar, he spoke to her like a more educated man would. The kind of man Jacqueline would have been attracted to, Sloane thought.
“I never thought to compare you to Michael any more than I like being compared to my sisters or my stepmother. We’re different people. I came looking for you and I’m not disappointed in what I found. Are you?” She met his wary gaze.
“Of course not.”
Giddy relief flowed through her, but she wasn’t about to ruin the moment by throwing herself into his arms. Yet. They still had too much to learn about each other. She’d discovered enough about Samson to know that if she got emotional, he’d bolt. So she decided to switch subjects.
“What’s with the country-bumpkin act? One minute you’re talking like you barely finished elementary school and the next minute you’re civilized and speaking to me like a proper gentleman.” She leaned toward him. “Why the cover?”
“It should be obvious,” he muttered. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out what looked like a pack of gum. “Want some?”
She shook her head. “No, thank you, and it isn’t obvious to me.”
“Your mother and I had dreams. We’d both finish school; she’d work until she got pregnant; I’d get a job with an antiques dealer until I could start a business of my own and support us.” He shifted, the nylon jacket he wore making a loud, crinkling noise in the otherwise quiet tree house. “I was majoring in art history, you know.”
“I didn’t realize.” No one had given her his background or history and she hung on his every word.
“No reason you should. I gave up those dreams when I gave up your mother. The day her father arrived, proof that my father was indebted to a loan shark in one hand and the solution in the other.”
