She lifted a mean little eyebrow. “You could give up that whiskey you have at the end of every day. That might help with the heartburn.”
“Melinda,” he said gravely, “I’d rather have needles in my eyes.”
Four
It didn’t take Luke long to make enough adjustments so he could sleep in a real bed, in a real house, make use of a real shower. First, the exterminator plugged holes and placed traps. Luke did some serious clearing of trash and cleaning. Then there was a new mattress-and-box-spring set and a working refrigerator, both of which he could transport in his truck and move with a dolly. A couple of weeks made all the difference. But every day was long and dirty. His muscles ached. There was an endless amount of work to be done.
It wasn’t yet five when he was showered and headed for a beer and some of that excellent food at Jack’s. He’d only been there a minute, waiting for someone to come from the back to serve him, when Mel struggled into the bar, baby against her chest, toddler in hand, diaper bag slung over her shoulder. Right inside the door, the toddler took a tumble down onto his knees and sent up a wail. “Oh, punkin,” she said. She spied Luke and said, “Oh, Luke, here.” She thrust the baby into his hands so she could stoop to lift up the boy. “Oh, you’re okay,” she said, brushing off his knees. “Don’t cry now, you didn’t even break the floor. It’s okay.” She was just about to stand, when she heard her husband’s voice.
“Mel,” he said.
She looked up from the floor. Jack was behind the bar. He inclined his head toward Luke with a smile on his face. Luke was holding the baby out in front of him at arm’s length, a startled expression on his face while Emma kicked her little legs and squirmed.
Mel burst out laughing, then covered her mouth. She rose and went to him, taking the baby. “I’m sorry, Luke,” she said. “It’s been such a long time since I’ve been around a man who didn’t know exactly what to do with a baby.”
“Sorry,” he said. “I don’t have much experience with this.”
“It’s okay—my mistake.” She couldn’t help but laugh again. “The first day I met Jack, there was a newborn at the clinic and he scooped her up like an old pro.”
“Because I was an old pro, Mel,” Jack said, coming around to the front of the bar. “Four sisters, eight nieces and one on the way,” he told Luke.
“Prolific family,” Luke observed. “I don’t know much about babies.”
“If you’re looking to learn babies, this is the place,” Mel said. “I don’t think there are any virgins left in Virgin River. The birth rate around here is on the rise.”
“Me and babies—incompatible. And I like it that way.”
Jack crouched in front of the bar. “Come on, cowboy,” he said, holding out his big hands to David. “Come to Dad.”
“Da!” David cried, waving his chubby arms and toddling at high speed toward Jack.
Jack hoisted the boy up onto his hip and went back around the bar. “What’s your pleasure?” he asked Luke.
“Cold draft?”
“Gotcha,” he said, expertly drawing a beer one-handed. He put it on the bar. “How’s the house look?”
Luke picked up the beer, much happier holding that than a baby. “Like a train wreck. A complete disaster. I should probably have just put a match to it.” He took a long pull. “But, I have the trash out of the house and I’ve cleaned it up enough to sleep and shower in there. I’ve started clearing out the cabins. I’m going to have to ask Paul for some advice.”
“You may have already gathered Paul is a great guy to work with if you want to do a lot of it yourself. He can step in and get the things done that are outside your expertise. Wish I’d had him around when I was working on the bar.”
With precision timing, Paul came in for a beer, still dusty in his work clothes. Right behind him, old Doc Mullins limped in and joined the men at the bar, raising one finger to Jack to set him up a whiskey, and Jack immediately knew exactly what he wanted. A few neighbors arrived, taking tables. The bar had settled into a nice little family watering hole with everyone knowing their places, relaxing into an end-of-day libation before dinner.
Paul inquired about the house and cabins and Luke said, “I’m going to ask you to take a look, but first I have to finish clearing the trash out of the cabins. I got a Dumpster from Eureka and hired an exterminator. If you saw them now, you’d run for your life.”
“I don’t scare easy,” Paul said. “But you go for it. I’m ready when you are.”
Luke tried not to watch the door. He had told himself for two weeks he wasn’t coming here to see her. He came to Jack’s because the people and the atmosphere were just what he was looking for in a small, friendly country bar. The men were good-natured and helpful, the women impossibly beautiful. The fact that he kept imagining her in his mind atop that big horse, the braid standing out as she rode, well…that was just that guy thing. He couldn’t help it.
Jack leaned on the bar and said in a low voice, “Some of my boys are coming in a few weeks to catch a piece of hunting season.”
“Jack,” Mel said from across the room. “Not again!”
He ignored her while Paul chuckled. “She thinks we torture the deer,” Jack explained, his voice normal again. “She loves to see the boys, but hates that we hunt. Why don’t you buy yourself a deer tag and license. Join us.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Luke said.
“Luke, I had high hopes for you,” Mel shot across the room.
“Run by the bank and make a withdrawal,” Paul advised. “There will be poker.”
Luke grinned. “Deal me in.”
An old woman with muddy rubber boots, wiry white hair and big black-framed glasses came into the bar and jumped onto a stool beside Doc. Jack said, “Luke, meet Hope McCrea, town busybody.”
“Mrs. McCrea,” he said politely.
“Another jarhead?” she asked Jack.
“No, Hope. We’re letting some army in here, as long as there aren’t too many of them.”
“You do anything special?” she asked him point-blank.
“Special?” Luke returned, tilting his head.
“I’m looking for a teacher and a preacher for the town,” she answered. “Bad hours, low pay.” She lifted her finger to Jack, who set up her drink. “Dream jobs.”
He laughed at her. “I sure can’t fill either of those slots.”
Then she came in. The girl. Luke gulped. He felt a shimmer all the way to his knees. She wore her hair unbound and he saw that it was full and springy, something a man could get his hands all tangled up in. He had a mental image of his large hands on her slim hips. She had a fresh face. Except for something shiny on her lips, she appeared to wear no makeup, but she didn’t need any. When she saw him, she lowered her lashes briefly, but smiled. Demure. Vulnerable and in need of a strong man. Oh, crap.
Then stepping into the bar right behind Shelby was a tall, broad-shouldered, silver-haired man of about sixty. Not exactly Daddy, but close enough. It hit Luke in the pit of his stomach. He came instantly to his feet—force of habit. He knew a general when he saw one—in or out of uniform.
With one hand on Shelby’s shoulder, Walt extended the other toward Luke. “This must be the new guy. Walt Booth. How you doing, son?”
“Sir,” Luke said, taking the hand. “Luke Riordan. Pleasure to meet you.”
“At ease,” he said with a quick smile. “Welcome. Jack, how about a beer?”
“Yes, sir,” he said, fixing one right up.
Shelby gently tugged Paul out of the way so she could have the stool next to Luke, causing Paul to lift his eyebrows curiously. But Luke wasn’t sitting. At least not until the general did. He hadn’t been out of the army quite long enough to relax about things like rank. He did glance at her, however, and she smiled at him, her eyes glittering slightly, maybe enjoying his obvious tension around her uncle. What he noticed was how rich and sultry her hazel eyes were. And he thought, oh God, I have to get beyond this. There were fifty things about the stirring he felt every time he saw her that were all wrong. He didn’t get into things like protective, high-ranking uncles and innocent young women who were clearly looking for true love.
Luke didn’t fall in love. He’d been in love once, when he was much, much younger, and it had left a hole in his heart big enough to drive a tank through. The experience left him a man who couldn’t form attachments; he was a dabbler, a player, not the kind of man who settled down. He never stayed in one place, nor with one woman for long.
This young Shelby was so transparent, she left little doubt as to what she wanted. Needed. She’d like to wrap her emotions around a man and tether him right up against her heart, breaking him in half. Then, in making his getaway, he’d hurt her bad. Annihilate her. Leave her young, tender heart in shreds and spoil everything for the guy who might come along later to do right by her.
The general finally sat and made army small talk. They went over their various commands and combat tours, and all the while he spoke with the general, he could smell Shelby’s sweet fragrance. It was swirling around his head, confusing him, addling his mind.
When Walt finally turned his attention to Doc and Hope, Luke felt Shelby’s breath soft on his cheek as she leaned toward him and asked, “Have you made much progress on the house and cabins?”
He wanted to be hardened toward her, oblivious to her, even cruel and indifferent would work, but when he turned to look at her, his eyes warmed because she melted him into soup. “As much as possible. I have a place to live that’s not on wheels. It’s going to be a bigger job than I thought. What have you been doing?”
“I’ve been helping Mel with the kids while she works, sometimes helping her with patients. I ride, babysit Vanni and Paul’s little one, keep an eye on Uncle Walt… Hardly anything, really. I should come over and help you haul trash.”
“You shouldn’t,” he said. “It’s miserable work. Way too dirty for you.”
“I could just watch,” she said, and smiled so prettily that his heart almost fell out of his chest.
“If you do that, Shelby, I won’t get anything done. You’re a distraction.”
She looked completely surprised. “How nice of you to say that,” she said. She briefly covered his hand atop the bar with hers, and a sizzle shot through him at her merest touch. Damn, he thought, I’m in serious trouble. He wasn’t sure what he feared most: never having more of her or repercussions from the general if he ever did. “Isn’t this the greatest place?” she asked him.
“Virgin River?”
“Sure, that. But Jack’s. This little piece of town. I love dropping in here and always seeing a friendly face.”
“I’ve been here a few times over the past couple of weeks and haven’t seen your friendly face,” he said, then silently cursed himself. Don’t push this, he warned himself.
“Oh,” she said, laughing. “My cousin Tom was home on leave. We came in a couple of times, but mostly it was all about family. Quite a crowd at my uncle’s, with all of us and then Tom and his girlfriend. He’s gone to West Point now, so I imagine I’ll be around more often.”
“And you like Jack’s,” he observed.
“I grew up in a small town on the coast—way bigger than this, but still cozy. There was this old dive called the Sea Shack—nets and shells on the walls, lots of locals, but also bikers and tourists. You could always count on some of the same people being there. You never had to worry that you’d be alone.”
