Hidden Summit (Virgin River #17)(45)

“Don’t you have something to do?” Greg asked him.

“No,” Jack said. “Buddy, you gotta let go....”

“You don’t understand,” Greg said to Jack. He turned to Leslie. “This doesn’t have to be so adversarial, Leslie. I only want to help because I care about you. I just thought maybe we should talk about this guy you’re seeing because, well…” He reached for her hand, and she snatched it away. “Okay, well, this may be hard to hear, but you’re on the rebound. People can make serious mistakes on the rebound.”

“I. Am. Not.”

“It’s not the length of time that’s the deciding factor, Leslie,” he said. “It’s really about the emotional investment. And believe me, I know how hard our divorce was for you.”

“It’s not hard anymore. I feel like you did me a monumental favor. Now go.”

“Just tell me who he is, Leslie. Tell me about him. I don’t want to worry about you.”

“You lost that privilege, Greg. I no longer discuss my personal business with you.”

He shook his head. “Your bitterness speaks for itself. There must be something about this guy that worries you or you wouldn’t be so defensive.”

“There’s something about you that worries me. If you come down here one more time I’m going to call Allison and suggest she have you committed.”

“Seriously,” Jack said. “I’m a little worried about you, too, buddy. You got a bun in the oven up there and you’re still hanging around here, bothering the ex?”

Greg turned sharply toward Jack. “Can you go find something to do?”

Jack shrugged. “I could, but this is fascinating. And it’s my bar.” Then he smiled.

Greg sighed in frustration. He turned back to Leslie. “Let’s get right to it.”

She rested an elbow on the bar and let her head drop into her hand. She groaned. She swore under her breath.

“The fact is, whether you realize it or not, you’ve had a blow to your self-esteem, and you’re in no condition to get involved with some guy you don’t really know. I knew when I made the hard choice to leave that I would have to be prepared to help see you through it, and I will, Leslie. Because I care about you. Because even though I don’t love you as my wife, I love you as my best friend and always will.”

“I am not your best friend. I am not even your casual friend. And my self-esteem has never been healthier.”

“And so even though it’s reasonable for you to be in denial, I know that losing me destroyed you. It was like hitting bottom for you and I don’t want you to reach out to a man who isn’t good for you. Not when I’m prepared to help you through the crisis. We both know you’ve never had a strong self-image, that you’ve always struggled with your perception of yourself. All I want to do is help. You have more potential than you realize, Leslie. Let me help.”

She stared at him in dumb wonder for a minute. The irony was—not only did he believe this to be true, there was a time it actually had been. His leaving had shattered her. Every time she’d seen him with the new pretty, smart, accomplished young woman, it had hurt. He thought he was God’s gift to women, and if he left his wife, she must be devastated.

Oh, how it pissed her off that she had been!

She turned her back on him and stomped away, charging through the swinging door to the kitchen. Preacher looked up from the stove and lifted his eyebrows, wondering what she was doing there.

She looked around. Then she saw it. The fire extinguisher was mounted on the wall in the kitchen by the back door. She rushed to it, snatched it off the brackets that held it and made for the bar.

If Jack hadn’t been following her to see what the devil she was up to, he might not have been in time. He was right near the door as she came back through; she was freeing the hose and positioning her hands on the handle. She was aiming. Preacher was right behind her, but not fast enough.

“Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!” Jack said, circling her waist with one arm and lifting her clear of the floor. “Hold on there!”

“Did you hear what he said to me?” she ground out angrily. “That his leaving destroyed me? That I now have no self-esteem because he left me?”

“Yeah, I couldn’t miss that. He’s an idiot. I’ll throw him out for you,” Jack said.

“No! This is the only thing he understands!”

“Aw, Les, it’s so messy....”

“It’s not as messy as me killing him!”

Jack smirked. He stole a look at Greg, who was backing away a little nervously, unknowingly making himself a better target.

“You have to help clean up the mess,” Jack said to Leslie.

“Certainly,” she said.

“All right, then.” He let her go.

She ran around the bar and fired. This time there was no warning, no countdown, no compassion. She hit him square in the chest, face, arms, legs and in the back as he ran away, yelling.

“You are an insane f**king bitch!” he screamed, looking a little like a snowman as he ran into the street.

Leslie turned back to the bar. Laughing.

“It wasn’t that messy,” she said. “I got most of it on him. I’ll have that drink now.”

Jack served her up her preferred Merlot and handed her a rag from behind the bar. “He seems to have forgotten his sports coat.”