Bring Me Home for Christmas (Virgin River #16)(21)

She narrowed her eyes at her brother. “By all means,” she said.

Denny came in the side door with an armload of split logs for the fire. “Don’t worry, Becca, I’ll stick around.” He crouched beside the hearth to stack the wood, ready for the fire.

“No, you should go. I’ll be fine. Especially if Mrs. Middleton doesn’t mind if I sit in her living room and watch TV.”

“She’s already offered full use of her house, so I’m sure she won’t mind, but I’ll ask. She’s making up sandwiches right now. What would you like to drink?”

“How hard is it to get hot chocolate?” Becca asked.

“It is not hard,” Jack called from behind the bar. “Anything we can do for the infirm!”

“Your friend Jack is a comedian,” Becca said. When she glanced at Jack, he was smiling appreciatively.

Within minutes the table was served, family style. A platter of sandwiches, a bowl of chips, a pitcher of cola and mugs, and Becca’s hot chocolate, along with Paige’s assurance that Becca was more than welcome to her couch and ottoman. They all crowded in; with Becca needing that extra chair to elevate her leg, it was a tight squeeze. And of course the ribbing began, starting with the lengths Becca would go to to get out of hunting, followed by the fact that she’d have to stay in Virgin River for over a week before being cleared to travel back home.

But soon, they were all pushing back chairs and standing to leave. All except Denny.

“For real, Denny, you can go. I can get around on my crutches.”

“I don’t know,” he said, frowning, shaking his head. “I told you I’d be around if you needed anything.”

“Well, I don’t think I’m ready to take on a flight of stairs, but otherwise I can manage, certainly for a few hours. I’m going to go back to the Middletons’ living room and zone out to Oprah or something.”

“Well…” he said, thinking. “We’ll go out in two trucks and I can come back early. You wouldn’t be on your own that long.”

“I’ll be fine,” she said. “I don’t want to be a drag. This is your hunting party and I ruined it.”

“No, you didn’t, Becca. It was an accident.”

“Just go,” she said.

“If you’re sure?”

“Go,” she said again.

He gave her a little smile, then stacked up the plates on the table and walked them back to the kitchen. As he passed back through the bar, he said, “Paige said help yourself to the sofa, or if you’re tired and you want to lie down, their bedroom is on the ground floor and you’re welcome to it.”

Tired? She might die of boredom, but she wasn’t tired at all. She just smiled and nodded, waving him out the door. Becca was used to a very active lifestyle—chasing seven-year-olds combined with lots of sports from surfing to skiing. The last time she watched Oprah, she was home sick with the flu. The time before that, she was home sick with a broken heart.

She pulled herself up and with her crutches, hobbled through the kitchen door. Inside, busy with lunch and cleanup, was the Middleton family—Paige rolling out dough for pies, Preacher—or John, as Paige called him—scraping plates and filling the dishwasher, and little Dana in her high chair, messing around with Play-Doh.

“Are you absolutely sure?” Becca asked when Paige smiled at her.

“Absolutely. There are some DVDs if there’s nothing on TV that interests you. Check out the bookcase—you might not be interested in John’s military history but I have some fun stuff there. And please don’t hesitate to use the phone or our bed, for that matter, if you want to lie down for a proper nap. When I’m done here, I’m going to put Dana down for her nap. She needs a good two hours to be pleasant for dinner!”

“Will the TV bother her?” Becca asked.

“Not in the least. She’s a great little napper.”

“Thanks. I really appreciate this. Denny doesn’t have a TV or anything in his little apartment. He probably doesn’t spend too much time there.”

Paige laughed. “He’s a very busy guy. Not only does he work for the farm and around here, he’s always offering to help anyone who needs something.”

This time when Becca walked into the Middleton house from the kitchen entrance, she noticed how perfect it was designed. She walked through a spacious laundry room that undoubtedly serviced the bar and the family. To her left was a kitchen that was more of a serving center, complete with cupboards, dishwasher, refrigerator, sink, countertops and a pass-through to a dining room. But there were no stoves or ovens because the bar kitchen was just steps away. Just opposite the serving station and dining room was the master bedroom and bath, and beyond that the great room, complete with entertainment center, fireplace, locked gun rack and open staircase that led to a loft. The kids’ rooms must be up there—she could see a few toys scattered around. There was a door to the backyard from the great room. She peeked outside and saw a wooden jungle gym, slide and sandbox. To the far right, more behind the bar than the house, was a big brick barbecue and some picnic tables.

She paused in front of the bookcase in the entertainment center and found some old friends—Jill Shalvis, Kristan Higgins, Deanna Raybourn, Toni Blake. She pulled one out, tossed it across the room and followed it, causing the sleepy Comet to jump in surprise. “Sorry,” she said to the dog. The remote was easier—it was right on the side table. She got her leg propped up on the ottoman, gave Comet an apologetic pat on the head, turned on the TV to an afternoon talk show with the volume down, book in her lap, and thought again about what Paige had said. Denny’s a pretty busy guy. He helps anyone who asks….