Bring Me Home for Christmas (Virgin River #16)(2)

There was a time when Becca had dreamed of a Christmas proposal and a beautiful ring under the tree. Christmas was her favorite season—the sparkling lights, the carols, the time with her family. Now she feared it. She wanted to want to marry Doug Carey, but she just couldn’t commit to him while this ghost haunted her. It would be so wrong. So unfair to both of them.

So she had decided. She was going to force Rich to take her with him to this Virgin River, the place Denny had chosen as his home. She’d hunt and fish and try to figure out why she just couldn’t let go of the guy. She would see him again and come to the conclusion that it had been a crush, a first love between a couple of kids, that she had idealized in her mind. Then she’d go home to the perfect man, finally appreciating him as much as he deserved. They would live happily ever after and the image of Denny would disappear.

She looked around the town once more as she went up the steps of the log-cabin bar where they were all meeting. “Seriously?” she said again under her breath. It was kind of a dumpy old town; the houses were small, a lot of them had peeling paint. There weren’t even streetlights or sidewalks. Besides a little grocery store and the bar, there didn’t appear to be any other businesses. What did these people do for entertainment? For fun? “Hunting and fishing,” she reminded herself. “Whoopee.”

Yeah, she was hopeful. Just a look at this backwoods little town was promising—she’d figure out what happened with Denny, where it all went so wrong and why. They’d been so different in the first place. Now she had to find a way to move on, so she could happily marry a man with a law degree and his own sailboat.

Denny Cutler had come to Virgin River in search of roots, and a year after stumbling into Jack’s Bar, he was sure he’d found the place where he would live for the rest of his life. He had friends who were as tight as family. He also had a career, one he had never in his craziest dreams envisioned—he was a farmer! An associate in Jilly Farms, an organic farm that promised to grow strong and profitable.

It had been Jack’s idea that Denny reach out to a couple of his buddies, maybe from the Marine Corps, where he’d spent four years, and invite them to Virgin River for a little guy stuff—hunting, fishing, poker. Jilly Farms wasn’t too busy in late fall and could spare him for a few days. He knew exactly which guys he wanted to invite. Troy, Dirk and Rich had been like brothers to him during his deployment to Iraq. Dirk Curtis and Troy were both reservists and lived near Sacramento. Rich Timm, also known as Big Richie or sometimes just Big, was from San Diego, where Denny grew up, though Denny hadn’t met him until the Corps. Rich got out of the Marines after two years, finished college and was now an engineer who worked for the highway department in San Diego, building freeways and bridges. All three of these guys loved camping, hiking, fishing, hunting—anything a little rugged. They would love Virgin River.

There was only one downside to his friendship with Rich—he was Becca’s twin brother. That’s how Denny had met his old girlfriend, through Rich, while they were on leave together back in San Diego, years ago. After Denny and Becca broke up, the continued friendship put Denny a little too close to all available news about Becca. Rich only passed along info if he asked, of course, which he couldn’t seem to keep himself from doing, even though he wanted to forget her as thoroughly as she’d forgotten him.

When plans fell together for the four guys, it turned out Thanksgiving week was the best time for everyone. “Perfect,” Jack said. “We’ve got Riordan cabins on the river and my guesthouse is available—plenty of room. We have duck hunting, fishing and Preacher always serves a big Thanksgiving dinner at the bar. The day after Thanksgiving, we go out into the woods to chop down a thirty-foot Christmas tree to put outside the bar—that’s a circus you don’t want to miss.”

So the plans were set. Troy, Dirk and Rich were due to arrive on the Sunday before Thanksgiving and depart a week later.

Denny had had a few rough years before settling in Virgin River—his mother had died, he reentered the Corps and was deployed to Afghanistan, he broke up with Becca after they’d been together for over three years—but finally, at the age of twenty-five, things were finally falling into place for him. Life was good. He was happy.

Troy and Dirk arrived by four o’clock on Sunday afternoon. Denny was on hand at the bar to greet them and serve them up a beer, and both Jack and Preacher made a point to be around. Dirk and Troy were going to stay in one of Luke Riordan’s cabins, so Luke and Colin Riordan dropped by for a quick beer to be part of the welcoming party. Preacher had a hearty meal planned, but since it was the Sunday night before a big family holiday week like Thanksgiving, there weren’t too many out-of-towners in the bar—just four hunters over in the corner at the table by the hearth, enjoying a pitcher of beer.

They practically had the place to themselves.

Finally the door to the bar opened and Big Richie stepped inside. He stood just inside the entrance wearing a look on his face that Denny could describe only as apologetic. Then she stepped inside, right behind him.

Becca!

What the hell? Denny stood behind the bar, next to Jack, his mouth hanging open. She lifted her chin and smiled at the gathering.

Rich gave a lame shrug.

God, she sure hadn’t gotten any worse looking, Denny thought. Five-seven, slim, large blue eyes. Her sun-streaked hair was pulled back in a clip that left it flouncing in large, loose curls on the back of her head with little wisps around her face. She was tanned, of course. She was a beach bunny. The memory of how she looked in a very tiny bikini came instantly to Denny’s mind, although those long legs and perfect butt sure did justice to a pair of jeans and boots.