Bring Me Home for Christmas (Virgin River #16)(70)

“Don’t walk,” Jack said. “Take the truck.”

“I’m afraid I’ll end up parking it in the middle of the street.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Jack said with a shrug. “The Virgin River snowplows won’t be out until I call Paul. But go. I’m tired and the snow could get wilder. If you’re going, go now. I’m not pulling my boots back on to dig you out.”

“All right, old man,” Denny said. He pulled Jack’s keys out of his pocket.

“Wait,” Paige said. “There’s no telling what we’ll find in the morning. I’m going to fix you a little care package in case you don’t feel like coming down here for breakfast. Think you can manage on venison salami, cheese, crackers and biscuits?”

“Throw some peanut butter in, will you?”

Paige gave a nod and dashed off to the kitchen. In what seemed like seconds, she was back with a big bag for them to take home.

After helping Becca into her jacket and taking her crutches from her, he crouched so she could climb on his back.

Once in the truck, she said, “I can’t see anything.”

“Awful, isn’t it? I can barely see, either,” he said. He turned into what he believed was the driveway and pulled slowly forward into the flurries. He stopped with a thunk. “There. See that? That was the Nissan.”

“Oh, God, I hope you didn’t hurt Jack’s truck!”

“Becca, I didn’t hurt Jack’s truck. I hurt the Nissan!”

“Oh,” she said, laughing. “How are we going to get up the stairs?”

“Slowly. Very, very slowly.”

He came around for her, carried her up the stairs, deposited her on one leg in the apartment and went back for the crutches. Momentarily he was back, crutches in hand. He leaned them against the wall, pushed back his hood and eyed her with glittering eyes.

“Denny?” she asked, tilting her head.

One side of his mouth lifted. Then he charged her, tackling her around the waist. She squealed and found herself pinned beneath him on the bed. He held her hands over her head and covered her mouth in a searing kiss. His intentions were already obvious, straining against the zipper of his jeans, pushing against her. He released her lips, but barely. “I have some ideas about how to spend the snowstorm.”

“Oh?” she asked.

“For starters, naked. Then after I do all your favorite things, I think we should do all my favorite things. Then new things. Then things we never thought of but can dream up. Then if I’m not dead, we can start over. How about we start with me tasting every inch of your na**d body…”

“Aren’t you tired?” she asked him.

“I’m hard,” he pointed out to her with a little hip movement. “And hungry. For your body…”

Yes, this was what she wanted, she thought. Her man back; the one who couldn’t get enough of her. The one who always put her first.

“I have another idea,” he said. “Let’s not reserve this for blizzards. Let’s plan on nights like this regularly, for the rest of our lives. How’s that?”

“That’s going to work,” she said, pulling his lips down to hers.

The snow continued through most of Tuesday, dumping another two feet. Paul plowed again, leaving five-and six-foot berms along the streets. Denny joined Jack and Preacher when they helped people dig out, get their cars and trucks started, delivered supplies. Becca spent most of the day helping Paige in the kitchen; they baked bread and pies and prepared a hearty stew for dinner.

The Sheridans spent another night in town because more snow was predicted for Wednesday morning, but it was supposed to be clear on Thursday.

“If we leave early on Thursday, we can be in San Diego by the evening,” Denny said to Becca. “In time for Christmas Eve on Friday.”

“All I have to do is close my suitcase,” Becca said. “What can I do to help you get ready?”

“I’m as good as ready,” he said.

When they weren’t holed up in their little room above the garage they were at Jack’s, where, despite the weather, there were always a few people. It was the gathering place for the town and the best spot to get the latest information.

On Wednesday night, Becca and Denny were having yet another farewell dinner. By her calculation, this was their third. She was sitting up at the bar, talking to Jack, while Denny was out gassing up Jack’s truck.

“Tomorrow it will be clear,” Becca said to Jack. “You’ll have your life back.”

He gave a nod. “Not quite. My family is due tomorrow. And we’ll also run around checking on people. We’ve been lucky—no power loss. I’m assuming we’ll find that everyone is fine. We could still get more snow before spring—an outrageous amount this winter. You know what that means? When the snowpack melts in the spring, we could have floods.”

“Here? In town?”

“Virgin River doesn’t usually have a real bad time, being at this elevation. But there are areas around that will have issues. But down the mountain could be a challenge. A few years ago, our friends in Grace Valley were just about wiped out. We helped where we could.”

“You always help where you can,” she said. “I can see why Denny has become so attached to this place.”