Bring Me Home for Christmas (Virgin River #16)(7)

“We’re going to have to go back in there, have a drink and some laughs, eat Preacher’s dinner,” Denny said to her. “We’re going to have to call a truce. Let bygones be bygones. Whatever.”

“Fine,” she said. “I’m not the one acting like there’s a problem.”

“You took me by surprise,” he said. “I shouldn’t have been so rude. Sorry. But it was a guys’ trip and you are definitely not a guy.”

Well. At least he noticed that. Because she was noticing him—that square, unshaven jaw, crazy hair that looked so thick it should probably be thinned, dark brown eyes, wide shoulders. The way his jeans fit over his narrow h*ps and long legs. It made her feel warm. Note to self, remember this reaction. There’s no logical reason for this, but it’s still happening. I feel him all over me. Damn it all.

“I kind of insisted, and Rich thought it would be okay, if I wasn’t any trouble. I can hold my own in outdoor sports.”

“You pressured him,” Denny said.

“I’m the oldest—he can’t say no to me. I told him I really wanted a break and that I’d fit in fine.”

“Yeah. Sure.”

“Is this how you call a truce? By needling me and trying to make me feel like I’m invading your territory? The other guys seem to be okay with it.”

“Look, Becca, we should have talked first, all right? Obviously there are some hard feelings between us.”

She stuffed her hands back in her pockets. “Well, I was the one who got dumped and I’m not holding a grudge.”

“I said I was sorry and you dumped me right back. You have to admit, I apologized.”

She smirked and shook her head sadly. “That you did. That you did.”

“What else could I have done?”

“Well, I wonder,” she said. “Did it ever occur to you that you might have to do more than apologize? You could’ve tried twice, I guess. Or, hey—maybe even three times. You could’ve sent flowers or something. You could’ve tried to get the point across that you really were sorry and that you weren’t out of your mind anymore. But you were on the next train out of San Diego. Now, I’m cold. I’m going back in by the fire. I’m going to drink my wine, have a good meal, laugh with my new friends. If you want to be miserable, have at it. I really couldn’t care less.” She turned and went back into the bar.

And Denny thought, I could have changed everything with flowers?

They had a little camaraderie over dinner; some reminiscing among the guys, some jokes. The subject of Denny and Becca was strictly avoided. Denny was just a little more quiet than usual, but no one seemed to notice. Probably because Becca was adorable, funny and just slightly flirtatious.

Denny wanted to shake her.

No one was more relieved than Denny when it was time for everyone to say good-night and retire to their respective rooms. This event was not shaping up the way he expected.

Troy and Dirk went off to their cabin by the river and Denny and Rich went with Becca down the street to Denny’s efficiency over the Fitchs’ garage. “I’ll show Becca the room and pack a few things,” Denny said. “I can give her my keys and leave her my truck just in case, but she won’t need it.”

“Sure,” Rich said. “I’ll wait here. But let’s move it, huh? I’ve been up since before four….”

“Five minutes,” he said, heading inside.

Becca was already halfway up the stairs, struggling with a very large suitcase. He took the stairs two at a time and said, “I’ll get that.”

“No, please. I insist on pulling my own weight.”

“Come on, gimme,” he said, grabbing the suitcase out of her hand.

He nearly toppled down the stairs. It weighed a ton. “Jesus,” he swore. “What have you got in this thing?”

“Clothes. Warm clothes. A couple of jackets. Boots.”

“And bricks?”

“I was doing fine,” she said. “Let me have it.”

“No, I’ve got it,” he insisted. He winced as he hefted it, but he was not about to pull it up on its wheels, one step at a time, as she had been doing.

She skipped up the stairs ahead of him, getting out of his way, and waited at the top. “Thank you, Denny,” she said. “Very thoughtful.”

He opened the door.

“Oh.” She laughed. “I was waiting for you to unlock it.”

“Hardly anything is locked around here.” He flipped on the light just inside the door and dropped her bag.

Denny went to the trunk at the foot of his bed and pulled out a military duffel. He went to the bathroom and got his shaving kit. While he was in there, he pulled out a clean towel for Becca, tossing his towel from the morning into the hamper. When he came out of the bathroom, she was standing in the middle of the room, checking it out. “There are clean sheets under the sink in the bathroom,” he said.

She looked around the room with interest. “This is very…cute.”

The bedspread was floral, the upholstery on the chair and ottoman was striped with some birds on it, the curtains yellow-and-white striped. The walls were yellow with white trim. “Mrs. Fitch decorated this room. She offered to butch it up a little but I told her not to bother. I’ve been looking around for something a little more…permanent. Larger.”