My Kind of Christmas (Virgin River #20)(13)

“Haven’t we had this conversation many times?” he said. “You’re not running for office right away, probably not for years. We have plenty of time.”

She merely shook her head. “I don’t think so,” she had said. “I’m not going to be a Navy wife. I’m building a career. I need a partner.”

“To do what? Go to dances?” he asked. “You seem to do just fine, attending with your father.”

“That’s not working for me,” she said.

“Are you asking me to get out? After ten years plus four in the Academy? Is that what you want?” he asked.

And clear as a bell she had said, “I’m afraid that won’t work for me, either.”

That had pretty much summed it up. Oh, they’d talked it to death for a while, but the actual conclusion had been reached in the first two minutes of conversation. She was done. It didn’t matter how he viewed the future, she was done. That was six months ago and he wasn’t sure if he missed her, was angry with her, wanted her back or wanted to send her hate mail.

He began to ask himself why they’d been together in the first place and was stunned to find the list of reasons was incredibly short. She loved dressing him up in his Navy mess dress for formal events in either D.C. or Charleston; she praised him often for being a quality escort. He loved looking at her, talking to her, touching her. She loved being connected to a decorated aviator who had been to war many times and he loved the convenience of having someone there for him when he returned to port. Had he loved her? He’d thought that was love.

Maybe what he felt more than anything was foolish and inexperienced.

He’d always been a one-woman man and playing the field held no interest for him. Even if she hadn’t been there full-time, neither had he. The end of their relationship was probably as much his fault, as Leigh’s. Not only had she taken the path of least resistance, but so had he.

Patrick had always known, even if he hadn’t admitted it, that he didn’t have the kind of relationship with Leigh that Jake had had with Marie. Jake was a frothing mess when he got home from a mission, grabbing Marie up in his arms like the wild man he was, going missing for a few days while he immersed himself in every possible ounce of her and even then being reluctant to let her get too far from his side. That was real love, and that was what Patrick had always wanted.

Now, two of the most important people in his life were gone.

When he got back to his cabin, he didn’t even go inside. He sat on the deck and absorbed the view. He thought about what had brought him here to Virgin River. Damn, life could get empty real fast.

And then this little med student comes along with such warmth, sincerity and passion for life. What a breath of fresh air. It didn’t hurt that she was adorable, gutsy and funny. He probably should stay far away from her, but he clearly was at her mercy—he admired her. Truthfully, he was enthralled. Life played some very strange tricks, sticking him with completely inappropriate feelings for a young woman he’d known for all of an hour. She was too young. On a totally different life path. Vulnerable but alluring. He had to admit, however, her mere presence had taken all the sting out of his loneliness for a little while. But she was not right for him.

Even though his brothers didn’t know it, he’d given his word to Jake—he would take care of Marie and Daniel. Marie needed him.

A creature of habit, he decided to call Marie. “How are you today?” he asked once she picked up.

“Today is a pretty good day,” she said. “Things are quieting down in the post-Thanksgiving haze. You?”

“Not bad, but things aren’t so quiet. It’s getting interesting in Virgin River. They’re putting up the big tree, for one thing—it’s about thirty feet tall and decorated in military insignia.”

“Wow, that’s huge for a little town.”

“This town is only little on the outside,” he said.

Ten minutes later he was on his way back into town to watch the tree trimming and to see if there was anything or anyone interesting in one of those cherry pickers.

* * *

Jack was descending in the bucket of the cherry picker when Angie pulled into town and parked across the street by the clinic. She met him as he got out. “You went missing for a while,” he observed.

“I was exploring a little bit,” she said. “Is it my turn?”

“Awww, I don’t know, Ange.…”

“Come on.”

“I might need a note from your doctor.”

She laughed at him, nudged him to one side and inserted herself in the bucket. “Explain the controls, please,” she said. “I’ll be very careful.”

He sighed, defeated. Sometimes he got so tired of headstrong women. He explained the levers in the control box, though with the diagrams right beside the controls, it was pretty self-explanatory. “Now, listen, I don’t want you over ten feet off the ground,” he said.

“Seriously?”

“Do you doubt I’ll climb up this boom and bring you down?” he asked.

“This is getting really old,” Angie said, and with that, she rose to the task. She went up ten feet, then left, then right, then up a few feet more, left and right, then higher.

“Angela,” he warned.

She went up a bit farther. “I’m fine,” she said. “I love this. I think I might decorate the whole tree for you. At least the top part.”