Bring Me Home for Christmas (Virgin River #16)(24)

Talk among the men wandered back to the Marine Corps, how it had been in the old days, how it was now. The few patrons who had lingered wandered off and it was just them—Jack and Preacher and Denny’s hunting party. The bar was dim and cozy, the fire was warm, the mood was one of friendship, camaraderie and mutual respect. Becca was feeling more comfortable and at home than she had since arriving. She was feeling less alone than she had in a long time.

“What time do we go out to the river?” Dirk asked.

“It’s close and dawn is later—seven is good,” Denny said. “Salmon’s up now and it’s good fishing. They’re moving upriver to spawn.”

“Salmon’s bleak in Sacramento right now,” Troy said. “I’m looking for something huge. Like that,” he said, gesturing to the mounted thirty-pounder over the bar.

“Becca, you feel okay?” Rich suddenly asked her.

“Sure,” she said. “Why?”

“You haven’t kept your mouth shut this long since the day you were born,” he pointed out.

“I said the salmon dinner was amazing!”

“You usually have a lot more to say,” he said. “About everything.”

Denny laughed before he said, “You about ready for bed, Becca?”

The entire gathering, including Jack, sent up a great round of whoops and laughter. Becca actually blushed.

“You know what I mean,” Denny said, more to the men than to Becca. “I’m sleeping on an air mattress so I can be handy if she needs anything.”

“Becca, even though it might make Dirk jealous, I could do air-mattress duty tonight if you’d rather,” Troy said with a teasing grin. “You know, since Denny broke your ankle and everything…”

“Jealous?” Dirk protested loudly, giving Troy a shove.

“Now boys,” she said. “We all know it wasn’t Denny’s fault and he’s been very thoughtful. So shut up and back off.”

“Whatever you say,” Troy said, holding up his palms toward her.

Rich stood to his full six foot two, gave his trousers a yank upward and pulled his jacket off the back of his chair. He draped it around Becca’s shoulders and said, “Come on, gimpy. I’ll drive you home. Then you’re on your own.”

“I better go with or he’ll leave her at the bottom of the stairs,” Denny said, getting to his feet. “Jack, you need me for anything? I can get Becca settled and come right back….”

“Nah, we’re good here. We don’t need you. Aren’t we good, Preach?”

“Good,” Preacher said, standing.

The gathering dispersed with plans to meet in the morning for fishing. Rich drove Becca home and carried her up the stairs to Denny’s room while Denny followed with the crutches.

And then, there they were. Alone.

Denny stood just inside the door, looking across the room at her. He had obviously taken care of inflating the air mattress earlier; it was lying on the floor at the foot of the bed, a pillow and blanket tossed on top. Although her crutches held her up, she sank to the bed, bone tired again.

“Do you need a little help to get ready for bed, Becca?”

She shook her head. “No, but if you wouldn’t mind lifting that suitcase onto the bed, I’d sure appreciate it. I can’t figure out how to kneel on the floor.”

“You got it,” he said, accommodating her at once. “Do you have warm pajamas? Because I have sweats and stuff…”

“I have it covered,” she said. She immediately began digging around in her big suitcase.

“I’ll clean out a couple of drawers,” he said. “Top drawers, so you don’t have to worry about lifting the suitcase or kneeling.”

“Don’t go to any trouble,” she said. Pajamas tucked under her arm, she stood from the bed. “Do you need the bathroom?”

“No, go ahead. Take your time. Here, let me carry those in for you. Need anything else in here?”

“That small cosmetic bag there would help—toothbrush and stuff.”

“Got it,” he said. “Leave this in the bathroom, if you want.”

“Thanks,” she said. “I hate needing help.”

He grinned at her. “But I like helping, so we’re okay so far.”

And then he backed out, pulling the door closed.

Becca sighed. She certainly had herself in a situation. All alone with the man she considered to be her long-lost love, and getting ready to brush her teeth and don her flannels. Over her bandaged foot. Ah yes, this was the moment every woman dreamed of.

After washing up and getting into her pajamas, tucking her clothes under her arms to toss back into the suitcase, she exited the bathroom. Denny stood beside his air mattress. He wore a pair of sweats that were slung low on his hips, his chest bare, and she got the impression he was still a bit overdressed for bed. Way overdressed. Becca was momentarily paralyzed. Yes, this was the Denny she remembered, yet so much more. She had fallen in love with a boy; this version was all man. He seemed taller and broader; his arms and shoulders were so muscled, his belly ripped. There was now a mat of hair on his chest, when before there was some brown fur surrounding his ni**les and disappearing into his waistband. And he had that scruffy unshaved look again. The guy had so much testosterone running through his bloodstream he could produce a beard in eight hours.