My Kind of Christmas (Virgin River #20)(28)

Patrick followed her to the living room, carrying his tray.

She stood in front of the couch. “I take it you had the floor in mind, since you moved furniture around.”

“If you’re going to be comfortable.”

“It’s perfect,” she said, falling into a sit, legs crossed, without spilling a drop of soup or wine.

When he was sitting beside her, balancing his own tray, she said, “They make a difference here—Mel, Jack, Doc Michaels and a lot of other people. They work where there’s need. They’re giving back or paying forward. I think the idea of the peace corps got points tonight.”

“Most twenty-three-year-old women are saving for a party cruise or a car or the biggest, flashiest wedding money can buy.”

She laughed. “Well, first of all, I don’t really come from people like that. Oh, my mom and my aunts have a real penchant for nice things—but I think they fall into the purse and shoe category, not cruises or cars. My parents’ idea of extravagance was a trip to Russia so we girls could learn about the tragic history of that country. I visited Dachau and Auschwitz at sixteen. It was bound to give me a different perspective from most people my age. And then you have to consider my accident. Things like that can change your life.”

“I know,” he said.

“Of course you do,” she agreed softly. She stopped talking to take a spoonful of soup. It came out of a can, she knew that. But she said, “You’re brilliant. A genius. This is the best tomato soup I’ve ever tasted.”

He gave her that sexy half smile and said, “And you are an accomplished flirt.”

Chapter Six

Patrick was sure it was inappropriate to compare Angie to Leigh, but it came unbidden. For all he knew, Leigh might have been just as idealistic at twenty-three, but it was very hard to imagine. She’d been raised by a politician; she was jaded and had very specific goals. At twenty-three she’d been working on a master’s in economics, determined to understand budget and deficit issues and how those would translate into votes.

Angie wanted to make a difference in the world. Leigh wanted to win elections.

When Leigh left him it had hurt; he’d invested so much time and energy in her. But this was not the first moment he’d had the notion he might’ve dodged a bullet. Had there been good things about their relationship? Oh, many. He’d enjoyed their time together, most of which was spent in what he could only describe as high-end entertainment. If it wasn’t the finest D.C. restaurants or A-list parties attended by the movers and shakers of Washington, then it was skiing, sailing, scuba diving, traveling…all first-class. Dachau and Auschwitz? Not in a million years. Leigh worked hard and played hard. And so did he—it had suited him fine.

In fact, laid-back weekends or evenings spent with Marie and Jake—a barbecue or movie and pizza—bored Leigh to death. She behaved herself very well; she understood that Jake and Marie were important to him. Likewise, he was cordial and debonair for those sophisticated Washington events that really lit her fire. It was only recently, since Jake’s memorial where Leigh was a no-show, when it had occurred to him that perhaps Leigh liked having a decorated Navy fighter pilot as her occasional escort to the social events surrounding national government. He wasn’t there because she loved his company—he was there to boost her public image.

Patrick had always felt that having a family was important to him, but it was after Leigh left and Jake died that he realized how important. He finally knew that if his life didn’t take the shape he’d imagined—a stable relationship that included kids—something very important would be lost.

He knew his face had given away his troubling thoughts when Angie told him to put another log on the fire and relax. “I’ll clean up,” she said. “It’ll only take a minute. Then I’m going to finish the wine and I think there’s one more beer. Can I grab it for you?”

“You absolutely can,” he said. And he leaned back against the couch while she headed for the kitchen.

Just a few minutes later, dishes done, fire stoked and libations replenished, she turned the conversation to him. “What compelled you to join the Navy?” she asked.

He draped an arm around her shoulders. “I think I always wanted to fly, but who knows how much of that was internal or influenced by my older brothers—three out of four of them took to the sky. But practically speaking, it was education—I come from a pretty simple family. My dad was an electrician and my mom was a coupon-clipping, soup-making stay-at-home mom most of the time. There were times she did secretarial or administrative work, but nothing that would cover the cost of school. The five of us were either going to get loans or scholarships or have to skip college. The oldest two, Luke and Colin, were into helicopters, but Sean introduced a new idea—the Air Force Academy and fighters. With that idea, my brain caught fire! In my mind, that kind of flying looked like the way to go, high and fast. It involved a sophisticated education and an exciting life.” He shook his head. “Gotta love that plane. It asks a lot, it’s demanding as hell and it requires good instincts and reflexes. Then there’s the mission—our ground troops and ocean vessels would be lost without the kind of air support the Navy provides.”

She was quiet for a moment before she said, “Sounds like you’ve made up your mind about what comes next for you.”