A Virgin River Christmas (Virgin River #4)(41)

“Now what?” he asked.

“Holy smokes, do they see you pull into the parking lot and fire up the grill? That didn’t take five minutes!”

He curved his lips into a smile for her. “I like that they’re efficient. They work, they get the job done.”

“Yeah,” she said. “Um—let me split the check. I have money.”

“I know. Eighty dollars.” He dug into his eggs.

“Really, I’d like to pay my share,” she said.

He lifted a sausage patty off his plate and slid it onto hers. “Forget it, I’ve got it. Try this, it’s the best sausage patty you’ll ever taste.”

“You obviously need a lot of fuel to do what you do,” she commented. Then she tasted the patty. “Hmm, right. You’re so right.”

He plunged his fork into the large biscuit and gravy and held it out to her. “Here. This is even better.”

For a second she was still. He was feeding her right off his fork? Then before the mood could drift away, she leaned toward that fork and sampled the biscuit and gravy. She hummed in agreement, let her eyes drop closed in appreciation and when she opened them, he was smiling happily. There was something so intimate, so generous about that simple gesture, it touched her heart.

“I knew you’d like it. I can never finish everything. Help yourself.”

“Thank you, Ian,” she said quietly.

When they pulled into the Eureka Public Library, she asked, “Can we browse a little? Or are we in a hurry?”

“How are you feeling? You coughed some.”

“I feel so much better doing something. I’d like to pick up a couple of books to keep me busy while you sell firewood. And I’m not sure what I want.”

“Take your time. I like to read the papers,” he said.

And she did take her time, luxuriously. Roaming the stacks, picking up novels with pretty covers, reading the cover copy and then the first page, having a real hard time choosing. She sat on the floor in the crowded aisles, so happy to be in the midst of entertainment again. She’d been reading classics to Bobby, more for herself than him, but her own tastes ran to newer romances. Deep, emotional romances with happy endings. Where things worked out. Whatever book she chose would have to be the right one; it was the only diversion she had. She had no idea how much time had passed when he said, “You just about ready?”

“Oh! Sure. Can I please have these three?”

“You think you’ll read that many before you leave?”

She just smiled at him. “Yes,” she said, knowing that was half an answer. Or less.

While Ian was checking out the books and then waiting by the door, Marcie was chatting it up with one of the librarians. They started off talking softly but very soon they were laughing, touching each other’s arms as they whispered close. He cleared his throat once and both women looked at him. He treated them to a glower, then they just resumed their conversation, interspersed with soft laughter. It looked as though they’d become best friends in just a short time.

Finally Marcie tore herself away from a hug and followed Ian to the truck. When they were inside, he was sulky. “You weren’t going to get all involved. Hook up with people. All that.”

“I didn’t,” she said.

“Well, that looked pretty cozy, back there. I told you—you’re the kind of person people want to get to know, talk to—”

“Don’t worry, Ian. I totally protected your anonymity. I told her you were my brother.”

“Great,” he pouted. “Now she’s going to ask me about you. And I told you—I’m friendly and pleasant and then I move on.”

“You can do that. She’ll find it perfectly understandable.”

“Oh? And why’s that?”

“Well, she wondered about you. Said you ask for some heavy reading sometimes, but that you didn’t make much conversation.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yes,” Marcie explained. “I said you were brilliant, but not a very social animal. I said she shouldn’t expect a lot of chitchat from you, but you were perfectly nice, and there was no reason to be shy around you—you’re safer than you look.”

“Is that so? And how did you convince her of that?”

“Easy. I said you were an idiot savant—brilliant in literature and many other things, but socially you weren’t on your game.”

“Oh, Jesus Christ!”

She noted the late-afternoon sky, the sun beginning to lower. “Ian, when was the last time you went out for a beer?”

“Been a while,” he grumbled miserably.

“I’d so love to see that Christmas tree in Virgin River at night. Could we pass through there for a beer? By the time we’ve had a beer, it might be dark. I should try calling my sister again before she comes hunting me down—and there’s that nice little bar there, with a phone I can use.”

“Aw, Marcie…”

“Come on. It’s been such a perfect day. Let’s end it on a positive note. Let me buy you a beer and maybe some of Preacher’s dinner—he cooks like a dream.”

“Preacher?”

“The cook in that little bar.”

“I don’t really like big crowds.”