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Praise for RITA^® Award-winning author Robyn Carr

“The Virgin River books are so compelling—I connected instantly with the characters and just wanted more and more and more.”

—#1 New York Times bestselling author Debbie Macomber

“Robyn Carr creates strong men, fascinating women and a community you’ll want to visit again and again. Who could ask for more?”

—New York Times bestselling author Sherryl Woods

“Virgin River is sexy, tense, emotional and satisfying. I can’t wait for more!”

—New York Times bestselling author Carla Neggers

“A series that promises much to come.”

—New York Times bestselling author Clive Cussler

“This is one author who proves a Carr can fly.”

—Book Reviewer on Blue Skies

“Robyn Carr provides readers [with] a powerful, thought-provoking work of contemporary fiction.”

—Midwest Book Review on Deep in the Valley

“A remarkable storyteller.”

—Library Journal

“A warm, wonderful book about women’s friendships, love and family. I adored it!”

—New York Times bestselling author Susan Elizabeth Phillips on The House on Olive Street

“A delightfully funny novel.”

—Midwest Book Review on The Wedding Party

Temptation Ridge
Robyn Carr

A Virgin River Novel

www.mirabooks.co.uk

Dear Reader,

Welcome back to Virgin River!

Many of you have written to ask if Virgin River is based on an actual town, because, if it is, you’d like to move there! I hate to break it to you, but you’d better unpack those boxes—the town lives only in my mind.

Second Chance Pass, Temptation Ridge and Paradise Valley are the next three books in the VIRGIN RIVER series. You’ll be reacquainted with some old friends, as well as making some new ones. As in life itself, the series continues with stories of romantic fulfillment, of lessons learned and of some hard goodbyes. In your letters you’ve told me how much you’ve enjoyed the strong, handsome, virile men of Virgin River. You’ve admired the beauty, inner strength and intelligence of the women. But what I hear about most is your love for a place where commitment is law—and not just romantic commitment, but the bonding of brotherhood, the fealty of neighbors, the loyalty of an abiding friendship.

I know many of you have ties to the military, and the fact that the Virgin River men have served their country in times of war has added greatly to their charisma. Apart from their obvious sex appeal, it is their solid, emotional core that so many of you have responded to. These characters embody values we all regard as admirable. Honorable.

So, although Virgin River is a fictional town, it can be created in any heart. It’s a place where a glass is half-full, where people gain strength from shouldering their burdens and challenges, where people do the right thing simply because it’s the right thing to do.

Want to live in Virgin River? Just close your eyes and open your heart.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Special thanks to my very own midwife consultant, Pam Glenn, and to Sharon Lampert, women’s health nurse practitioner, with deep appreciation for all the long talks, advice, reading, editing and most of all, for being extraordinary friends.

Chief Kris Kitna of Fortuna, California, Police Department has been a wealth of information on local detail, law enforcement, firearms, hunting and so many other things. Special thanks for never tiring of my constant questions.

Debbie Gustavson, physical therapist extraordinaire, my gratitude for taking so much time to help me understand the physical, emotional and psychological stages in rehabilitation and recovery. Your patients are very, very lucky to have you. And I am blessed to have you as a friend.

Without Kate Bandy’s input on every fresh manuscript, I would be so lost. Thank you for all your time, your valuable comments, your undying support and a friendship that has sustained me for decades.

Michelle Mazzanti, thank you for reading early drafts and propping me up. Every comment offered was always spot-on and crucial to helping me craft a better book.

Special thanks to Rebecca (Beki) Keene and Sokreatrey (Ing) Cruz, my two dear Internet friends. Beki gets applause for helping to solve plot problems and Ing is a genius at coming up with character names. Your support through a million e-mails discussing characters and stories has been priceless.

Thanks again to Denise and Jeff Nicholl for reading and commenting on manuscripts, and for wonderful encouragement and friendship.

To Colleen Gleason, talented author and special friend, thank you for hand selling so many copies of the Virgin River series. You are like a one-man band!

And a very special and heartfelt thanks to my editor, Valerie Gray, and to my agent, Liza Dawson. What a fabulous team. Your diligence and assistance at every turn made this little town and its people possible. I’m so grateful.

This novel is dedicated to Liza Dawson, my right

arm, my clear head, my arch and my spine. Your

insight is like a beacon, your encouragement like

a warm blanket. Thank you from my heart for the

incredible affection and energy you give to me.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

One

Shelby was within ten miles of her Uncle Walt’s ranch when she had to pull over to the side of highway 36, the busiest stretch between Virgin River and Fortuna, behind an old pickup truck that looked vaguely familiar. Although 36 was the highway that ran across the mountains from Red Bluff to Fortuna, it was mostly two lane. She put her cherry-red Jeep SUV in Park and stepped out of the vehicle. The rain had finally stopped, giving way to a bright summer sun, but the road was wet and splattered with muddy puddles. She peered way up the road to see a man wearing a bright orange vest holding a stop sign toward a long string of cars, closing both lanes. The turnoff to her Uncle Walt’s would be on the other side of the next hill.

She picked her way around puddles to the truck parked in front of her, intending to ask the driver if he knew what was going on. When she got to the driver’s window she smiled. “Well, hey, Doc.”

Doc Mullins looked out the open window. “Hey, yourself, little girl. Up here for a weekend of riding?” he asked with his usual grumpy tone.

“Not this time, Doc. I sold my mother’s house in Bodega Bay,” she said. “Packed up the bare essentials and am moving in with Uncle Walt for a while.”

“Permanently?”

“Nah. For a few months, though. I’m still in transition.”

Doc’s grimace melted slightly, but only slightly. “Once again, condolences on your loss, Shelby,” he said. “I hope you’re doing all right with that.”

“Better all the time, thanks. My mom was ready to go.” She tilted her head up the road. “Have any idea what’s holding us up here?”

“Soft shoulder gave out,” he said. “I passed it on my way to Valley Hospital. Dumped half this lane down the hill. They’re repairing.”

“Guardrails would be nice,” she observed.

“Only around the tight curves,” he said. “On a straightaway like this, we’re on our own. Damn lucky a car or truck didn’t go with that soft shoulder. It’s going to be like this the next few days.”

“Once I get to Walt’s, I’m not planning to be on this road again, for a while anyway,” she said with a shrug.

“What are you planning, if I might ask?” Doc said, lifting one of his bushy eyebrows.

“Well, while I’m visiting the family, I’ll be making applications to schools. Nursing,” she said with a smile. “A fairly obvious choice for me after taking care of my mother for years.”

“Ach, just what I need,” he said with his usual scowl. “Another nurse. Drive me to drink.”

She laughed at him. “At least we won’t have to drive you far.”

“There’s just what I mean. Another impertinent one, at that,” he clarified.

She laughed again, loving this ornery old guy. Shelby turned, Doc leaned out of his window and both of them watched a man approach from the truck that had stopped behind Shelby’s Jeep. He walked toward them. His hair was shaved down in that military fashion she’d been accustomed to all her life; her uncle was a retired army general. A black T-shirt was stretched tight over broad, hard shoulders, his waist narrow, his hips slim and legs long. But what fascinated her was the way he came toward them, with an economy of movement. Deliberate. Confident. Cocky. His thumbs were hooked into front pockets and he sauntered. When he got closer, she could see his very slight smile as he looked at her, or looked her over, to be more precise. Sizing her up with glowing eyes. In your dreams, she thought, which caused her to smile back.

As he passed her Jeep, he glanced inside at all the packed-up boxes, then continued to where she was standing beside Doc’s open window. “That yours?” he asked, jutting his chin toward the Jeep.

“Yup.”

“Where are you headed?” he asked.

“Virgin River. You?”

“The same.” He grinned. “Any idea what’s going on up there?”

“Collapsed shoulder,” Doc said with a grunt. “They have us down to one lane for repairs. What’s your business in Virgin River?”

“I have some old cabins along the river there.” He glanced between them. “You two live in the town?” he asked.

“I have family there,” Shelby said. She stuck out her hand. “I’m Shelby.”

He took her small hand. “Luke. Luke Riordan.” He turned toward Doc, putting out his hand again. “Sir?”

Doc didn’t extend a hand, but rather gave a nod. His hands were so twisted with arthritis, he never risked a handshake. “Mullins,” he said.

“Doc Mullins has lived in Virgin River all his life. He’s the town doctor,” Shelby explained to Luke.

“Nice to meet you, sir,” Luke said.

“Another jarhead?” Doc asked, lifting one white, spiking eyebrow.

Luke straightened. “I beg your pardon,” he said. “Army. Sir.” Then he looked at Shelby. “Another marine?”

“A few of our friends who work in town are marines. Retired or discharged. Their friends come around sometimes—some of them are still active or in the reserves,” she explained. “But my uncle, who I’ll be living with for a while, was Army. Retired.” She grinned. “You won’t stand out that much with your hairdo. I don’t know what it is with you guys and the buzz cuts.”

He smiled patiently. “We’ve never been checked out on those dryer things.”

“Ah. Blow-dryers. Right.”

As they waited in their stalled lane, the second lane was opened up to let a big yellow school bus pass. Judging by the number of vehicles waiting in their lane, they weren’t going anywhere anytime soon, so there was no great rush to get back to their cars. They remained standing on the road, which ended up being a big mistake for Luke. As he saw the bus barreling down the other lane, Luke also noted a sizable puddle in front of it. He quickly put himself between Shelby and the bus, pressing her up against Doc’s open window. With a hand on each side of her, he covered her with his body, barely in time to feel the splat from the puddle against his back.

Shelby stifled a chuckle. Macho man, she thought with some humor.

Luke heard downshifting, then the squeal of brakes. “Jesus,” he muttered as he backed off the girl and glared after the bus.

As Luke turned and scowled at the bus, the driver leaned out the window. A round-faced woman in her fifties, rosy cheeked with a cap of short dark hair, grinned at him. She grinned! “Sorry, buddy,” she said. “Couldn’t hardly help that.”

“You could if you went a lot slower,” he yelled back at her.

To his astonishment, she laughed. “Aw, I wasn’t going too fast. I got a schedule, y’know,” she yelled. “My advice? Stay out of the way.”

His scalp felt hot under his short hair and he really wanted to swear. When he turned back to Shelby and Doc, he found her smiling behind her hand and Doc’s eyes twinkling. “You got a little splatter on your back there, Luke,” she said, trying to keep control of her lips.

Doc’s face was the same—cranky and impatient, but for the glittering eyes. “Molly’s been slinging that big yellow tube around these mountains for thirty years now, and ain’t nobody knows these roads better. Guess she didn’t see a pothole this once.”

“It’s not even September yet!” Luke protested.

“She drives year-round,” Doc said. “Summer school, special programs, athletics. Always something going on. She’s a saint—you couldn’t pay me enough to do that job. What’s a mud puddle here and there?” Then the old doctor put his truck noisily in gear. “Our turn coming up.”

Shelby jogged back toward her Jeep. Luke started to walk back toward his truck, which pulled a camper. Then he heard Doc, shouting at his back, “Welcome to Virgin River, son. Enjoy yourself.” And it was followed by a cackle.

Shelby McIntyre had been fixing up her deceased mother’s house for months, but she’d been able to drive up to Virgin River from Bodega Bay nearly every weekend through the summer to ride. And her Uncle Walt had paid many a visit to her to oversee renovation work that he’d personally contracted. By the end of summer Shelby had roses on her cheeks. She had rolled up her shorts and her legs were tanned. Her thighs and butt had developed firm riding muscles and her eyes sparkled with health. It had been years since she’d benefited from that type of regular exercise.

But when she pulled up in front of Walt’s house now, in mid-August, it was a completely different feeling. The house was sold, her belongings were in the back of her Jeep, and at the age of twenty-five, she was embarking on a brand-new life. She gave the horn a toot, got out of her Jeep and stretched. In just moments, Uncle Walt came out the front door, stood there with his hands on his hips, a big grin on his face. “Welcome back,” he said. “Or should I say, welcome home?”

“Hey there,” she said, walking into his arms. Walt was six feet with thick, silver hair, dark bushy brows and shoulders and arms like a wrestler’s. He was a powerfully built man for just over sixty.

He hugged her tight. “I was just about to go to the stable and saddle up. You too tired? You hungry or anything?”

“I’m dying to get on a horse, but I think I’ll pass after riding in a Jeep for over four hours,” she said.

He laughed. “Backside pretty well broken in?”

“Ohhh,” she said, rubbing her butt.

“I’m just riding down along the river for an hour or so. Vanni’s down at the new construction, getting in Paul’s business, but she’s going to be back in time to cook you a nice welcome-home dinner.”

Shelby looked at her watch. It was only three-thirty. “Tell you what—I’m going to run into town while you go for your ride and Vanni inspects her new house. I’ll say hi to Mel Sheridan and see if I can talk her into a beer to celebrate my change of residence. I’ll be back in time to help with the horses before dinner. Should I get this stuff out of the Jeep first? Take it inside?” she asked.

“Honey, leave it be, no one’s gonna bother it. Paul and I will unload you before supper.”

She grinned at him. “Let’s make a date for tomorrow morning. We’ll have that ride together.”

“Good deal. No trouble closing on the house?”

“It was a little more emotional than I expected. I thought I was ready.”

“Regrets?”

She turned her large hazel eyes up to his face. “I cried for the first fifty miles,” she said. “And then I started to get excited. I’m sure about this.”

“Good,” he said, giving her a squeeze. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Just for a few months. Then I’m going to travel a little and get a head start on school. It’s been so long since I’ve been a student.”

“Life here is usually pretty laid-back. Take advantage of it.”

“Yeah—” she laughed “—when you’re not having shoot-outs or forest fires.”

“Well, hell, girl, we want to keep things interesting!” He walked her to her Jeep.

“Wait for me to get back to muck the stalls and feed the horses.”

“Enjoy a little girlfriend time,” he said. “It’s something you haven’t had enough of the past few years. You’ll have plenty of horseshit to muck while you’re here.”

“Thanks, Uncle Walt,” she said and laughed. “I won’t be too long.”

He kissed her forehead. “I said, take your time. You took good care of my sister. You’ve earned piles of it.”

“See you in a couple of hours,” Shelby said, heading for town.

Luke Riordan pulled into Virgin River, his Harley strapped into the back of his extended-cab truck, pulling his small camper. It had been seven years since he’d seen this town and there had been a few changes. The church was now boarded up, but what he remembered as an old, abandoned cabin in the center of town was renovated, had cars and trucks parked around the front porch, and an Open sign in the window. It looked like some construction was under way behind the cabin; it was framed for an add-on. Since he was considering a renovation project of his own, he wouldn’t mind having a look at what had been done to this place. He parked off to the side, out of the way, and got out of the truck. He went into the camper and changed out of his muddy shirt before going inside.

The August afternoon was warm, with a cool, refreshing breeze; the night would be chilly in the mountains. He hadn’t been out to the house he planned to live in, which had been vacant for a year. If it was uninhabitable, he had his camper. He took a deep breath. The air was so damn clean, it stung the lungs. Such a huge change from the deserts of Iraq and El Paso. Just what he’d been needing.

He walked into the renovated cabin and found himself in a good-looking little country bar. He stood just inside the door and looked around appreciatively. The hardwood floors gleamed, hot embers glowed in the hearth, hunting and fishing trophies hung mounted on the walls. There were about a dozen tables and a long, shiny bar behind which there were shelves full of liquor and glasses surrounding a stuffed king salmon that must have weighed about forty pounds at the catch. A television, mounted high in a corner, was tuned to national news, the volume turned down. A couple of fishermen, identifiable by their khaki vests and hats, sat at one end of the bar playing cribbage. A few men in work shirts and jeans were having drinks at a nearby table. Luke looked at his watch: 4:00 p.m. He walked up to the bar.

“What can I get you?” the bartender asked.

“A cold draft, thanks. This place wasn’t here the last time I was through town.”

“You’ve been away a while then. I’ve been open more than four years now. I bought it and turned it into this.”

“Well, you did a helluva job,” he said, accepting the beer. “I’m going to be doing some remodeling myself.” He stuck out his hand. “Luke Riordan,” he said.

“Jack Sheridan. Pleasure.”

“I bought some old cabins along the Virgin that have been sitting empty and going downhill for years now.”

“Those old Chapman cabins?” Jack asked. “The old man died just last year.”

“Yeah, I know,” Luke said. “I was back here hunting with one of my brothers and a couple of friends when we first saw them. My brother and I thought the location, right on the river, might be worth some money. We noticed the cabins weren’t in use and wanted to buy ’em and fix ’em up for a quick resale, turn ’em fast and make a couple of bucks. But old Chapman wouldn’t even listen to an offer….”

“It would have left him homeless,” Jack said, giving the bar a wipe with a cloth. “He wouldn’t have had too many options, and he was all alone.”

Luke took a drink of his icy beer. “Exactly. So we bought the whole property, including his house, and told him he could stay there, rent free, for life. It turned out to be seven years.”

Jack grinned. “Sweet deal for him. Smart deal for you. Property doesn’t come available around here that often.”

“We could see right off the land under those cabins was worth more than the buildings, right on the river like that. I haven’t been able to get back here since, and my brother has only been up here once, just to have a look—he said nothing had changed.”

“What held you up?”

“Well,” he said, scratching the stubble on his chin. “Afghanistan. Iraq. Fort Bliss and a few other places.”

“Army?”

“Yeah. Twenty.”

“I did twenty in the Marine Corps,” Jack said. “I thought I’d come up here and serve up a few drinks, fish and hunt for the next twenty.”

“Yeah? Sounds like a good plan.”

“My plan got derailed by a cute little nurse midwife by the name of Melinda.” He grinned. “I would’ve been fine, but that woman does something to a pair of jeans that ought to be against the law.”

“That so?” Luke asked.

“Anyone can go fishing,” Jack said with a satisfied smile.

Luke didn’t mind seeing a man happy with his life. He smiled back. Then he asked, “Did you do most of this work yourself?”

“Most. I got some help, but I like taking credit where I can. This bar is a custom job, delivered to me finished. I installed the shelves and laid the hardwood floors. I didn’t trust myself with the plumbing and I screwed up the wiring enough to have to hire someone, but I’m good with wood—I managed to add a large one-room apartment onto the back to live in. My cook, Preacher, has it now and is adding on again—his family’s growing, but he likes living at the bar. You going to work on those cabins?”

“I’m going to look at the house first. Chapman was already pretty old when we bought the whole business—that house probably needs work. And I have no idea what shape the cabins are in, but I don’t have anything better to do right now. Worst case, I can fix up the house and live in it for a while. Best case, I can renovate the house and the cabins and put ’em on the market.”

“Where’s your brother?” Jack asked.

“Still active. Sean is stationed at Beale Air Force Base in the U-2. It’s just me for now.”

“What did you do for the army?” Jack asked him.

“Black Hawks.”

“Shew,” Jack said, shaking his head. “They go in some real hot spots.”

“Tell me about it. I came out the hard way.”

“You drive one in?” Jack asked.

“Hell, no,” he said indignantly. “I had to be shot down.”

Jack laughed. “Man. At least you got your twenty.”

“It wasn’t even the first time,” Luke said. “But in a moment of sheer genius, I decided it should be the last.”

“Something tells me we’ve been in some of the same places,” Jack said. “Maybe even at around the same time.”

“Saw some combat, did you?”

“Afghanistan, Somalia, Bosnia, Iraq. Twice.”

“Mogadishu,” Luke confirmed, shaking his head.

“Yeah, we left you boys in a mess. I hated that,” Jack said. “You lost a lot of brothers. I’m sorry, man.”

“It was bad,” Luke agreed. What started out as a relief mission sanctioned by the UN ended in a horrible uprising after the Marine Corps was pulled out and the army was left behind. Somalian warlord Aidid launched an attack that left eighteen U.S. Army soldiers dead and over ninety wounded in a bloody conflict. “One of these days, Jack, we’ll get drunk and talk about the battles.”

Jack reached out, grabbed Luke’s upper arm and said, “You bet. Welcome to the neighborhood, brother.”

“Now, tell me where to go for a night out that might include women, who to call if I need help with the house or cabins and what hours I can get a beer here,” Luke said.

“Been a long time since I’ve been looking for women, buddy. The coastal towns have some nice spots—try Fortuna or Eureka. There’s the Brookstone Inn in Ferndale—nice restaurant and bar. Old-town Eureka is always good. Then for something a little closer, there’s a little bar in Garberville with a jukebox.” He shrugged. “I remember seeing one or two pretty girls there. And I have just the guy for you if you need help with the remodel. A buddy of mine just moved a part of his family’s construction company down here from Oregon and he’s doing Preacher’s add-on. He helped me finish my house. He’s a helluva builder. Let me go get one of his cards.”

Jack went into the back and hadn’t been gone a minute when two women came into the bar and almost gave Luke a heart attack. A couple of pretty blondes, one in her thirties with curly golden hair and the other, much younger, with an unforgettable thick, honey-colored braid that hung down her back to her waist. The girl from the roadside; the one he saved from a muddy bath—Shelby. Both of them were wearing tight jeans and boots. The golden girl had on a loose-knit sweater, while Shelby wore the same crisp white shirt from earlier, sleeves rolled, collar open and tied at the waist. He tried not to stare, but he couldn’t help looking at them, though they hadn’t noticed him at all. His immediate thought was that he wouldn’t have to go as far as Garberville. They jumped up on bar stools just as Jack came from the back.

“Hey, baby,” he said, leaning across the bar to the older of the two women, kissing her. Ah, Luke thought, those would be the illegal jeans that keep him from fishing. What man wouldn’t give up fishing to spend more of his time with a woman like that? “Meet a new neighbor. Luke Riordan, this is Mel, my wife, and Shelby McIntyre—she has family here.”

“Pleasure,” he said to the women.

“Luke here owns those old Chapman cabins on the river and he’s thinking of renovating. He’s ex-army, so we’re gonna let him stay.”

“Welcome,” Mel said.

Shelby said nothing. She smiled at him, letting her eyelids drop a bit. He judged her to be about eighteen, just a girl. In fact, if she’d been any older, he might’ve gotten a phone number out there on the muddy road. Eureka or the Brookstone couldn’t beat this, though both these women were obviously completely off-limits—Mel was Jack’s woman and Shelby appeared to be a teenager. A very sexy teenager, he thought with a slight flush of warmth. But their appearance held promise. If two such beautiful women could be found in a little bar in Virgin River, there had to be a few more scattered around these mountains.

“Here you go,” Jack said, sliding a business card across the bar. “My buddy Paul. Right now he’s also building a house for my younger sister, Brie, and her husband next door to us. Plus one for himself and his wife.”

“My cousin,” Shelby said.

Luke lifted his eyebrows in question.

“Well, Paul’s married to my cousin Vanessa. They’re staying at my Uncle Walt’s and I’m staying with them.”

“You want a beer, Mel?” Jack asked his wife. “Shelby?”

“I’ll have a quick soda with Shelby, then I’m going home to relieve Brie of the kids so she can have dinner with Mike,” Mel said. “I just wanted to swing through and tell you where I’ll be. I’ll feed the kids and put them to bed. Will you bring us some of Preacher’s dinner when you come home later?”

“Be happy to.”

“And I’m going home to help with the horses,” Shelby said. “But I’ll have a beer first.”

Well, at least she was twenty-one, Luke found himself thinking. Unless Jack had some very relaxed age standards in this little neighborhood bar, which was entirely possible.

“I’d probably better get going—” Luke said.

“Hang around,” Jack said. “If you don’t have to go, five o’clock usually brings out the regulars. Perfect opportunity to meet your neighbors.”

Luke looked at his watch. “I guess I can hang out a while.”

Jack laughed. “Buddy, the first thing that’s gonna go is that watch.” Jack put a beer in front of Shelby, a cola in front of his wife.

Luke talked with Jack a while about the renovation of the bar while the women were occupied with their own conversation. Not ten minutes had passed when Jack said, “Excuse me, I’m going to walk my wife out,” and Luke was left at the bar with Shelby.

“I see you changed clothes,” Shelby said to him.

“Um, that was pretty necessary. The schoolmarm got me good.”

She laughed softly. “I never thanked you. For saving my blouse.”

“No thanks necessary,” he said, sipping his beer.

“I’ve seen those cabins,” Shelby said. “I like to ride along the river. They look pretty awful.”

He chuckled. “I’m not surprised to hear that. With any luck, they’re not beyond hope.”

“They were built a long time ago when people used quality materials,” she said. “I learn these things from my cousin—some of these old houses are built like brick shit—Um. Well. So, do you expect your family to join you here?” she asked him.

He grinned into his beer. And the question, so quick and to the point, surprised him. He lifted his eyes from his beer and looked at her. “No,” he said. “I have a mother and brothers scattered around.”

“No wife?” she asked, one corner of her mouth tilting upward along with the slight lift of one pretty brow.

“No wife,” he said.

“Aw. Too bad,” she said.

“You don’t have to feel sorry for me, Shelby. I happen to like it this way.”

“Solitary kind of guy, are you?”

“No. Just an unmarried kind of guy.” He knew this was his cue to ask her if she was attached to someone special, but it was irrelevant. He wasn’t going there. And while he knew getting to know her better probably wasn’t wise, he put an elbow on the bar, leaned his head on his hand, met her eyes and said, “Just visiting, huh?”

She took a drink of her beer, nodding.

“How long are you in town for?”

“That’s still kind of up in the air,” she said. Jack was back behind the bar and Shelby put down her glass, still half-full, and a couple of dollars on the bar. “I’d better go take care of those horses. Thanks, Jack.”

Jack turned toward her. “Shelby, why don’t you just ask for half a beer?” he said.

She shrugged, smiling. She put out her hand to Luke. “Nice seeing you again, Luke. Later.”

“Sure,” he said, taking her hand. As she left, he watched her walk out. He didn’t want to do that, but the view was impossible to resist. When he looked back at Jack, Jack grinned, then got busy behind the bar.

Before seven o’clock Luke had met Preacher—or John to his wife and young stepson. He met Paige, Preacher’s wife, and Jack’s younger sister Brie and her husband, Mike. He saw old Doc Mullins again and passed the time with some of his new neighbors. He feasted on some of the best salmon he’d ever eaten, heard some local lore and was already feeling like one of the gang. While he was there others passed through for dinner and drinks, greeting Jack and Preacher like old pals.

Another couple entered and Luke was introduced to Paul Haggerty, the builder, and his wife, Vanessa. “Jack gave me a call,” Paul said. “He tells me we have you as a new neighbor.”

“That’s optimistic,” Luke said. “I haven’t been out to the property yet.”

“Is that your camper out there?” Paul asked.

“As a precaution,” Luke said with a laugh. “If the house isn’t habitable, I won’t have to sleep in the truck.”

“Be sure and let me know if you need me to look at any of it.”

“I appreciate that. More than you realize.”

Luke found himself staying at the bar far later than he had intended. In fact, when Jack’s friends were saying good-night, he was still there, having a cup of coffee with Jack. These seemed like nice people, though he was a little shell-shocked by the women. He could accept the idea that Jack had found himself a young beauty right in Virgin River, but it seemed they were everywhere. Shelby, Paige, Brie and Vanessa were all damn sweet-looking. He held out great hope of landing himself at least a little diversion in the next town over.

“You’re going to want to meet Paul’s father-in-law, Walt,” Jack said. “He’s retired army.”

“Yeah?” Luke asked. “I think Shelby mentioned that.”

“Three-star. Nice guy.”

Luke groaned in spite of himself. He actually dropped his head. And apparently Jack was reading him.

“Yep. Shelby’s Uncle Walt,” Jack said.

“Shelby. The eighteen-year-old?”

Jack chuckled. “She’s a little older than that. But I admit, young. Looker, though, isn’t she?”

That was impossible to miss, Luke thought. “I took one look at her and felt like I was going to get arrested,” he said, making Jack laugh. “How much more dangerous could she be, huh? Young, sweet and living with a three-star.”

“Yeah,” Jack laughed. “But hell, she’s all grown up now. Grew up fine, I’d say.”

“Hey, I’m not getting near that,” Luke said.

“Whatever you say,” Jack said.

Luke stood up, put money on the bar, put out his hand and said, “Thanks, Jack. I really didn’t expect this kind of welcome. I’m glad I shot through town before going out to the house.”

“Let us know if we can do anything to help. Nice having you with us, soldier. You’re going to like it here.”

Two

It was typical of the Sheridans to have their dinner together at the bar, often with friends and family, and then Jack would load up his little family and send them home so Mel could put the children to bed while he stayed on, serving until closing. On this particular night, Mel had hurried home to relieve Brie of babysitting. Jack snuck out of the bar a little early and brought their dinner home.

It could still amaze him, the satisfaction he felt when he went home to his family. Three years ago he was a single man, living in a room built onto his bar, completely disinterested in a domestic tether like this. Now he couldn’t imagine any other kind of life. He kept thinking that the strength of his feelings for his wife should settle into a kind of complacency by now, and yet his passion for her, the depth of his love, only grew by the day. She had wound her sweet love around his heart and owned him, body and soul. He didn’t know how he’d lived so long without it; didn’t know why other men evaded it, and he finally understood his friends who’d lived this life for years.

It was nothing fancy: a meal at the kitchen table, some conversation about the building at the bar, the new guy in town, Shelby’s return for a nice long visit while she applied to colleges. But for Jack it was the most important part of his day, that time he had Mel all to himself, the kids tucked in for the night.

When the dishes were cleaned up, Mel headed for the shower first. Jack brought in logs and laid a fresh fire in the master-bedroom hearth—the nights were already getting brisk. Fall came early in the mountains. When that was done, he went around the house collecting trash to take to the town Dumpster in the morning. He pulled off his boots by the back door and as he passed the laundry room, he tugged off his shirt and socks and left them on the washer. By the time he got back to his bedroom, the shower had stopped running. He hung his belt in the closet and went to the master bath.

As he stood in the doorway, he caught Mel in front of the mirror, quickly pulling her towel closed over herself. She had a guilty look on her face as she met his eyes in the mirror. “Melinda, what are you doing?” he asked, unzipping his jeans to take them off and take a shower of his own.

“Nothing,” she said, averting her eyes.

He frowned and stepped toward her. He lifted her chin and looked into her eyes. “Were you covering up? In front of me?” he asked, astonished.

“Jack, I’m going to pot,” she said, cinching the towel tighter.

“What?” he asked, laughter in his voice. “What are you talking about?”

She took a deep breath. “My boobs are drooping, my butt fell into my thighs, I have a potbelly, and if that’s not bad enough, I’m so covered with stretch marks, I look like a deflated balloon.” She put a hand against his rock-hard chest. “You’re eight years older than I am and you’re in perfect shape.”

He started to laugh. “I thought you were trying to cover a tattoo or something. Mel, I didn’t have two children, a year apart. Emma’s only a few months old. Give yourself a little time, huh?”

“I can’t help it. I miss my old body.”

“Oh-oh,” he said, putting his arms around her. “If you’re thinking like that, I’m not doing my job.”

“But it’s true,” she said, laying her head against the soft mat of hair on his chest.

“Mel, you are more beautiful every day. I love your body.”

“It’s not what it was…”

“Hmm. But it’s better,” he said. He tugged at the towel and she hung on. “Come on,” he said. She let go and he pulled it away. “Ah,” he said, smiling down at her. “This body is amazing to me—incredible. More lush and irresistible every day.”

“You can’t mean that,” she said.

“But I do.” He leaned down and touched her lips with his, one hand on her breast, the other moving smoothly down her back and over her bottom. “This body has given me so much—I worship this body.” He lifted her breast slightly. “Look,” he said.

“I can’t bear it,” she complained.

“Look, Mel. Look in the mirror. Sometimes when I see you like this, uncovered, I can’t breathe. Every small change just makes you better, more delicious to me. You can’t think I’d have anything but complete admiration for the body that gave me my children. You give me so much pleasure, sometimes I think I might be losing my mind. Baby, you’re perfect.”

“I’m twenty pounds heavier than when you met me,” she said.

He laughed at her. “What are you now? A size four?”

“You don’t know anything. It’s much more than a four. We’re headed for double digits…”

“God above,” he said. “Twenty more pounds for me to gobble up.”

“What if I just keep getting fatter and fatter?”

“Will you still be in there? Because it’s you I love. I love your body, Mel, because it’s you. You understand that, right?”

“But…”

“If I had an accident that blew my legs off, would you stop loving me, wanting me?”

“Of course not! That’s not the same thing!”

“We’re not our bodies. We’ve been lucky with our bodies, but we’re more than that.”

“It was my butt in a pair of jeans that got your attention….”

“My love for you is a lot deeper than that, and you know it. However—” he grinned “—you still knock me out in those jeans. If you’ve gained twenty pounds, it went to all the right places.”

“I’m thinking—tummy tuck,” she said.

“What nonsense,” he said, leaning down to cover her mouth in a bold and serious kiss. His hands were moving up and down her bare back and before seconds had passed, she was losing herself in his touch. “The first time we made love, I thought it was the best love I’d ever had. Ever. The best experience of my life. I really didn’t think it could get better—but it does. Every time, richer and deeper than the time before.”

“I’m going to stop eating Preacher’s fattening food,” she said, but she said it a little breathlessly. “I’m going to insist he start making salads.”

He took her hand in his and put her palm against his belly, sliding it down. “I’m not going to have time for that shower,” he said, his voice husky. His lips went to her neck. “Unless you want to get back in, with me.”

“Jack…”

“You know how much I wanted you that first night?” he whispered against her cheek. “I’ve wanted you more every night since. Come on,” he said, bending and lifting her into his arms. “I’m going to show you how beautiful you are.” He carried her to the bed, laid her softly on the sheets and knelt over her, an arm braced on each side. “Want me to light the fire?” he asked with a chuckle.

She ran her hands down over his narrow hips, sliding his jeans lower. “Jack, if you start to find me unattractive, will you tell me? Please? While there’s still time for me to do something about it?”

He covered her mouth, kissing her deeply. “If that ever happens, Melinda, I’ll be sure to tell you.” He kissed her again. “God, you taste good.”

“You don’t taste bad,” she whispered, letting her eyes fall closed.

“Any special requests?” he asked her.

“Everything you do is special,” she whispered.

“Fair enough,” he said. “We’ll just do everything….”

When Luke pulled up to the house and cabins in the dark of night, he used a big flashlight to illuminate them. The electricity had been shut off last year when old Mr. Chapman passed. All he could really make out was a house black as pitch and a few cabins with peeling shingles and some boarded-up windows. A closer inspection had to wait until morning.

But the sound of the rushing river was awesome. What a great locale this was for the time being. He remembered how much he’d liked this place the first time he’d seen it—the sound of the river, the owls, the wind through the pines making that whistling sound, the occasional bark of a goose or quack of a duck. Although it was cold, he pulled out extra blankets and planned to sleep with one of the camper’s windows open so he could hear the river and the wildlife.

At the first light of morning, he pulled on his jeans and boots and went outside to a morning that was just turning pink, the air crisp and damp. Just down the bank he could see the river rushing over natural waterfalls where, in fall, the salmon would be jumping upstream to spawn. On the opposite side of the river were four deer having a drink. And—unsurprisingly—the house and cabins looked like hell. What a pimple on the face of this beautiful landscape.

Exactly what he expected. A lot of work ahead, but great potential. They could sell it right now for the value of the land, or he could improve the structures and get a much better price. And he needed something constructive to do while he plotted his next move. He could scout around for a helicopter flying job. There were news choppers, medical transport, private industry. He took a deep breath. But for right now, this little piece of river land was perfect.

He went first to inspect the house. The porch out front was nice and big, but would have to be reinforced, sanded and stained or painted. The door was stuck and he had to force it, splintering some of the rotting wood around the jamb. Of course the place was filthy—not only had it not seen a good cleaning in a long while before Mr. Chapman’s death, in the year since, a couple of animals had burrowed in and taken roost. He heard the sound of scurrying, saw footprints on the dusty floor, and the countertops suggested a menagerie. The place would be full of mice, raccoons, maybe opossums. Hopefully the bear didn’t have a den in here. He’d be sleeping in the camper for a while.

It didn’t have a good smell, either. Everything was left as it was the day Mr. Chapman passed—the bed was even mussed as though he’d just gotten out of it. Dirty clothes littered the floor, there was rotten and petrified food in the kitchen, all the furniture was still in place. Nasty, musty, stained furniture that was on its very last legs. The appliances also seemed to be about a million years old and the refrigerator had never been cleaned out before the electricity was shut off. It was completely destroyed by odors that would have to be blasted out.

Right inside the front door was a decent-size living room with a good-looking stone hearth. To the immediate left was a large, empty dining room separated from the kitchen by a breakfast bar that was sagging. The kitchen was big enough for a table and four chairs or, better still, a butcher-block island.

Straight ahead was a short hall—on one side a big bathroom with a clawfoot tub, on the other, a utility room. Straight ahead was a bedroom. No walk-in closet here—this was an old-fashioned house. The old man had left large, man-size bureaus and wardrobes. The bed was a big, wooden four-poster. Luke didn’t much like the furniture, but he thought since it was solid, heavy, durable ash, it was probably valuable.

He made a U-turn and went back to the living room. There he found a staircase to the second floor. He went up cautiously, not sure of the reliability of the steps. Plus, it was dark up there. If he remembered, there were two good-size bedrooms and no bath. More scurrying. He ran back down the steps. He could look up there after the exterminator had paid a visit.

Standing in the living room, he did a mental inventory. The good news was, it didn’t appear the place had to be gutted and completely remodeled to make it livable. The bad news was, what had to be done was going to be expensive and time consuming. Everything but the ash bedroom furniture needed to go away. Far away. It wasn’t even up to secondhand standards. The floors would have to be sanded, the cupboards torn out and replaced, new countertops would have to be installed, the old wallpaper stripped, windowsills, doors, frames, baseboards sanded and stained, or maybe just replaced.

But first, the amount of trash hauling and pest removal was going to be a giant pain in the butt. At least this was work he could do, with the help of an exterminator. He’d inspect the roof later.

He walked out of the house and pried open the door to the first cabin. More of the same. The furniture was rotting, the floor was covered with debris. The cabins were all one-room efficiencies that hadn’t been used in years, so the small stoves and bar-size refrigerators were outdated and probably didn’t work. He was good with wood and paint, but he didn’t trust himself with gas and electricity. He was looking at six empty cabins, all in need of new hot-water heaters, stoves, refrigerators and furniture. He’d have to get up on the roofs and see how they had held up through the years, but from where he stood, it looked as though the shingles were mostly missing or rotting. And the wood on the outside of the cabins, all in need of scraping, sanding and painting. Every window would have to be replaced.

He did a mental calculation. It was nearly September. From January to June, before the summer people came for camping and hiking, things were slow and wet around this part of the world. If he could get the house and cabins in shape by spring, he could put them on the market or open them up for rent to vacationers. If it turned out he was bored with the mountains by then, he’d lock the whole business up and make tracks to either San Diego, where his brother Aiden was stationed and there was plenty of beach and swimsuits, or to Phoenix, where his widowed mother lived and would be forever grateful for his presence. He could always chase a flying job if he wanted to.

He unhooked the camper from the truck, unloaded his Harley from the truck bed and parked it up on its stand in front of the house. He grabbed a pair of work gloves, broom and shovel from the bed of the truck, got his toolbox out of the trailer and began scooping out the house. He could at least fill the back of the trunk with trash and, on his way to Eureka to have the utilities turned on, hire an exterminator and rent a big Dumpster; he could also dispose of a big load at the dump.

By noon he had a huge pile of trash in front of the porch. He got to work on loading the trash into the back of the pickup. The bright afternoon sun had warmed up the air and he was sweating like a farmhand, so he took off his shirt. He was just hefting a big three-legged overstuffed chair into the back of the truck when he spotted her. Holding it over his head, he froze.

She was sitting in the clearing astride a big American paint. She smiled at him. Pure, innocent honey. Luke couldn’t move. The horse was beautiful, at least fifteen hands. She was wearing khaki shorts, rolled up high on her tanned thighs, a pair of what appeared to be laced hiking boots with white socks rolled over the tops, a white short-sleeved T-shirt and a khaki fishing vest. With that long, pale blond braid down her back and a Stetson on her head, she could be fifteen, tiny and built solid. The thought that she looked like a statutory offense came instantly to mind and he felt every day of his thirty-eight years.

The horse danced and pawed at the ground, snorted and reared his head, but this little girl in the saddle didn’t even notice. She handled him with ease and finesse.

“I just had to see this for myself,” she said. “You’re doing it. You’re at work on this mess. Wow,” she laughed. “Looks like you’re going to be busy.”

He tossed the chair in the back of the truck and took a rag out of his pocket to mop his sweating face. “Maybe you can’t see the potential here,” he said. “I’m going to impress you, in that case.”

“I’m already impressed,” she said. “It looks like a monumental job. Where I grew up, there were a bunch of old cabins just like this, out on the beach. I was a teenager. They were almost never in use and the local kids used to sneak in. To smoke pot and…other stuff. Then one day they were gone. Razed.”

“When you were a teenager,” he said, shoving the rag back into his pocket. “Last week?”

“Hey,” she laughed. “I’m talking ten years ago.”

“In which case, you don’t age.”

“Why don’t you just ask?” she challenged him.

“Okay. How old are you? Exactly?”

“Twenty-five. And you?”

“One hundred and ten.”

She laughed again. When she did, she threw her head back and that braid rippled down her back. “Yeah, I thought you were probably really old. How old?”

“Thirty-eight. Pretty well out of your range.”

“That depends,” she said with a shrug.

“On?”

“On whether I have a range.”

Oh God, he thought weakly. She liked him. Not a little teasing, but private flirting, just between the two of them. Luke was a man with few scruples and even less control. It wasn’t a good idea for her to do this. She was too alluring for her own good. “You’re pretty good with that horse. He’s a beautiful paint.”

“Chico,” she told him. “All little boy. Uncle Walt adopted him as colt—you’d think he’d be better behaved. You know your horses.”

“I’ve flown over a lot of horses running wild in the desert. Incredible creatures.”

“You ride?” she asked.

“Haven’t been on a horse in years.”

“You fish?” she asked.

“When I get a chance. You hunt?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I’d never shoot anything. But I shoot skeet, and I’m good, too. Lately I garden and babysit. And I read a lot.”

“What are you doing here?” he asked, stepping toward her.

“In Virgin River? I came to spend some time with my family for a while before going back to school. Uncle Walt, Vanessa and Paul, my cousin Tom—he’s at basic training, soon to have leave—they’re my family.”

“No,” he said, smiling. “Here. Checking me out.”

“Get over yourself, I’m checking out the cabins,” she said, returning the smile. “I rode here a few times last summer. I really thought these cabins would disappear someday. Wouldn’t it be easier to build new ones?”

“It might be easier, but it wouldn’t be cheaper. And I was looking for something to do.”

“Why? You get fired from your job or something?”

“I retired from the army.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Like my uncle!”

“No, not like your uncle. Like a warrant officer, helicopter pilot. Jack said your uncle is a retired three-star. A whole different thing, kid.”

She grinned at him, but her cheeks took on a little flush. “Just remember, he’s retired. He really isn’t in charge anymore.”

He took note of the pinkened cheeks. She wanted to do this, obviously, this flirting. But it wasn’t natural for her, he could see that. He could make it easier for her. He knew how to calm a woman down, put her at ease. In fact, he enjoyed it.

He was having an attack of pure lust and he told himself to nip it in the bud. She said twenty-five, but he thought there was a good chance in any bar other than Jack’s, she’d be carded. He grabbed his shirt off the porch railing to shrug into it.

“You don’t have to do that,” she said. “Not for me—I’m not staying. Just dropping by to see your project, that’s all. I was in the neighborhood.”

He chuckled and pulled on the shirt, but he left it unbuttoned. “Yeah. We’re neighbors,” he said, smiling up at her. “I should be getting back to work, unless there’s something you need.”

“Nah,” she said. “I’m sure I’ll be seeing you at Jack’s.”

“Only place in town to get a beer, so I’m sure you will.”

“Well then. Good luck here,” she said, lifting the reins. Chico reared, ready to be set free. “Later,” she yelled, leading her gelding away and out of the clearing to the river’s edge. Luke watched the sight of her departure. Once she was through the trees, she kicked her horse into a run. She got low in the saddle and made that braid ride out behind her, she went so hard and fast. I’m in for it now, Luke thought.

He watched her tiny, young butt move with the horse, confident in the saddle. Sweet heaven, what am I thinking? he asked himself. What am I feeling? She couldn’t possibly know what a trim little beauty on a big horse did to him! This was almost the hugest mistake he’d ever considered. But he couldn’t escape the fact that he’d like to get his hands all over her. He began to pray that he’d have both intelligence and restraint where this one was concerned. But it would be a first.

Shelby rode back to her Uncle Walt’s and all the way she was thinking how Luke might think she’d been flirting, but he was absolutely not her type.

Shelby was totally focused on her plans. While waiting for acceptance to a school, she’d travel some. Alone. She remembered the exhilaration of flying off to the East Coast or Europe to spend a couple of months with her cousins during summer. But she’d never seen the Caribbean islands, Mexico, Italy, France or Japan. She’d like to take a cruise, then a vacation—maybe in Italy, the south of France or Cabo San Lucas. After she’d had a nice little break to recharge, she would get herself set up at school, find a part-time job and take a few classes before her degree program officially began in the fall. Just to get herself back in the study groove.

But maybe she’d have herself a little adventure in there somewhere. Maybe on her cruise, on one of her trips.

Not with this kind of man, of course. He was too mature, for one thing. One look convinced her—he knew everything about men and women, while she knew very little. He looked a little dangerous and very, very physical. Scary. He had that warrior appearance, complete with tattoos.

The sight of him bare-chested had rattled her, but the big horse beneath her had given her plenty of confidence. His shoulders were so large, strong and muscular, and he had a barbed-wire armband tattooed on his rippling left biceps. His belly was flat and hard with a trail of chest hair that disappeared into his jeans. The stubble along his jaw made his grin a little taunting and definitely naughty; it had made her shiver. And he had an aura of carelessness. He would take a bite of her, then pitch her out, forgetting her before morning.

But while Shelby had looked him over, everything inside her had grown warm. Something about him, a forbidden quality, was absolutely delicious. Even the damn dirt looked good on him. Despite her common sense, she wondered, wouldn’t that be interesting? And her very next thought was, no, no, no, not him! My adventure will come in a polo shirt, cheeks as smooth as a baby’s butt, styled hair, no tattoos and hopefully an advanced degree. Not some scary Black Hawk pilot who has a Ph.D. in one-night stands!

Mel stormed right into the bar’s kitchen. Preacher had his hands in the sink, his back to her. “Hey, Preach,” she said. But he didn’t turn around. “Preach?” she asked again. Nothing. “John!” she yelled.

He jumped in surprise, turned toward her and pulled earplugs out of his ears. “Whoa, Mel,” he said. “You snuck up on me.”

“Well, not exactly,” she said. “I yelled.”

“Yeah, well, after a while all that noise makes my head pound. I’d just go fishin’, but I have things to do here.”

“Listen,” she said, sitting on the stool at his work island. “We have to talk, you and me.”

“Sure.”

She took a breath. “I’ve gained twenty pounds since I came here. Almost ten pounds a year. By the time I’m forty, I’ll weigh two hundred pounds.”

He frowned. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say. Finally he smiled a small smile and said, “Well, good for you.”

“This is not good!”

He almost jumped at the angry tone in her voice. Then he frowned.

“Listen,” she said, “you have to start doing some cooking that isn’t so fattening. Understand?”

“No one’s ever complained about the cooking before, Mel. It tastes good…”

“I know, I know—but you’re cooking for men with real physical lives. Except you—you stand in the kitchen all day and I know you sample everything. I don’t know how you keep from getting fat.”

“I clean a lot,” he said. “I lift weights—but not as much with two kids.”

“Yeah, well, you have a lot of muscle, and that eats up calories. Women don’t have that kind of muscle, John. You have to stop using so much cream and butter, that sort of thing. It’s unhealthy anyway—not good for weight, cholesterol and blood pressure, not good for the heart. Make some salads, more vegetables not swimming in butter. I can’t be the only person in this town who’s getting fat on your food.”

“Salads?” he said. “I don’t usually make a lot of salads.”

“I know this,” she said wearily. “But we need to make a couple of changes. Just minor changes. Buy some low-fat, whole-wheat bread for sandwiches. Don’t do pastas, breads and potatoes at every meal. Make salads, stock fresh fruit.”

“There’s plenty of fruit around here,” he said.

“Yeah, and it’s all in the pies.”

“You have pie almost every day,” he pointed out. “You love my pies. You more than anyone, I think.”

She scowled, then grimaced. “I’m going to stop doing that. Listen, can you make some lighter meals available, please? Or else I’m not going to be able to eat here all the time. I’ll have to pack a lunch, make my own dinner at home. This madness has to stop. I can’t keep gaining weight like this. I am not going to be fat!”

Preacher tilted his head. “Jack complaining about the way you look?” he asked cautiously.

“Of course not,” she said in frustration. “He thinks I’m perfect.”

“Well, there you go.”

“John, I don’t think you’re paying attention here. I have to go on a diet. You want me to write down what I need?”

“No,” he said unhappily. “I think I’ve got it.”

“Thanks. That’s all I wanted. I need a little help here, that’s all.”

“We want you happy,” he said, caution in every word.

“It would make me happy.” She slipped off the stool. “Thanks, that’s all I wanted to talk to you about.”

After she left, Preacher stood in his kitchen for a long time, thinking. Then he went out back where the men were at work. He spotted Jack standing in what used to be his bedroom, talking with Paul. They both wore hard hats while Preacher’s head was bare. He waited. Finally Paul and Jack turned to look at him and Paul sighed and shook his head dismally; he took two giant steps away, grabbing a hard hat and handing it to Preacher.

“I’m not going to tell you again,” Paul said. “You don’t come out here without protection for your head.”

“Yeah, right,” Preacher said, putting it on. Too small, it sat high on his head.

“You have the biggest head out here,” Paul said. “We’re framing the second story. You’re an accident waiting to happen.”

“Yeah, I get it. Listen,” Preacher said, turning his attention on Jack, “Mel was just here. She’s complaining about the food.”

“Huh?” Jack answered. “Mel?”

“Yeah. She says my food is making her fat.”

Jack chuckled. “Oh, that. Yeah, she’s making noises about that. Don’t worry about it.”