Midnight Kiss (Virgin River #12)(28)

A shiver ran through Jordan. Her faith in the institution of marriage was minimal at best. Her parents had delighted in making her the rope in their constant tug of war, and the best day of her life had been when they’d parted just before she turned eight. Not that they didn’t still use her as a weapon, but they’d moved to opposite coasts and now that she was grown, she could dodge them fairly easily most of the time.

If Marly and David were having trouble…what hope was there for anyone else? Which was why Jordan would never, ever try married life herself. She was a realist.

Some people were meant for the vine-covered cottage, the puppies and kittens and babies.

She was not one of them.

Other people got married because they couldn’t stand being alone.

She was fine on her own. She liked living on the edge, keeping her options open. Staying light on her feet.

No shackles for her.

And definitely no illusions.

WILL MASTERSON AROSE with the chickens, as usual.

Literally. His rooster was a walking alarm clock.

The far east Austin neighborhood where he lived was an old one with large lots and a country feel to it. Plenty of room for his big garden, his chicken coop and the woodworking shop he’d made from a detached garage that had—like the house—been close to falling down when he’d bought the place for a song.

And one day, it would be perfect for a whole pack of children.

His family still hoped he’d return to Ireland, settle down with a nice country girl and raise a large family, as most of his siblings were doing. He’d had the same intention once, that after a few months of traveling across the United States, a place with which he’d been fascinated while growing up, he’d return home.

That had been seven years ago. He’d recently applied for citizenship in this big, rowdy country that suited him like a second skin. He missed his family, yes, but he’d found home. Not the woman yet, no, but that would come in time. Will continued to work on the house in which he and she would raise babies—and he could picture her, perfectly. She’d have curves, real ones, that gave a man a handful of woman to love. She’d bake bread, sew, garden with him, appreciate the simple life and be a good partner to him. No, he wasn’t a throwback as some of his friends accused—he would appreciate and support her career if she had one, could teach her to bake bread if she didn’t know how or make it himself as he currently did. They would share values, however, and that would make all the difference—any rough edges could be smoothed out.

He was looking for a Marly, really. David Preston, the builder for whom he subcontracted trim carpentry, was married to the woman of Will’s dreams, the perfect mother and wife who had created a refuge where David could retreat at the end of a long day.

Too bad she was taken, he thought, smiling. Marly swore she was going to find the right woman for him, and he’d gladly accepted her help. Will believed in his heart the woman of his dreams was out there somewhere.

He simply had to be patient.

And he was nothing if not a patient man.

CHAPTER TWO

JORDAN ARRIVED AT THE Preston home on Thanksgiving Day with wine and chocolates in hand. She left the cooking to Marly. “So where’s the paragon?”

“Out there,” responded the Preston’s eldest daughter, Christy. She pointed Jordan to a window in the kitchen overlooking the front porch.

So this was Will Masterson, huh? However much Jordan disliked Marly organizing her love life, she had to admit that the man had a beautiful baritone voice.

He wasn’t half-bad-looking, either, at least from his strong profile. Though seated, he was clearly an imposing man, built like a lumberjack. Jordan leaned against the sill and watched his big hands finger the guitar strings with surprising agility. Notes of astonishing richness and depth emerged from the guitar, intertwining with his voice and that of the second Preston daughter Sarah’s in a melody so haunting that all activity around the house had stopped.

Jordan listened, instantly caught up in the spell, and was astounded to feel her eyes fill. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d cried, but not to respond to the pain and longing in this music would require a heart made of stone.

He looked up suddenly and caught her gaze.

She quickly looked away.

When the last notes died off, there was a long hush of respect for something extraordinary. Then from all quarters burst enthusiastic applause.

Will nodded and smiled, then his gaze returned the window.

Jordan retreated from view.

Just then, Sam skidded out on the porch. “Wow! Can you teach me to do that? Only not something so girly?”

Everyone broke up with laughter, including Will.

“Like this, you mean?” Will launched into a rousing tune filled with war and bloodshed and enough battles to thrill a little boy’s urge for mayhem and set everyone’s toes tapping.

Jordan smiled as she turned to help Marly.

“I told you he was amazing,” her friend said. “He’s restoring an old house, he builds furniture like an artisan, gardens, cooks—”

“Then you take him. So not my type.”

“Maybe your type needs changing.”

“How about we talk about Girls’ Night instead?” Jordan retorted. “So what was up with you?”

Marly’s mouth went tight. “Nothing. Would you get me some ice from the utility porch?”