My Kind of Christmas (Virgin River #20)(33)

“Not extensive?”

“I wouldn’t think so, but before you ask—it would still be very expensive for the Thickson family. It would require pre-op blood work and exam, an O.R., anesthesia, a nurse and O.R. tech. I don’t think it would be a long surgery, but nonetheless…”

“I know, I get it. Has anyone asked around for donations?”

“I’m pretty sure the pastor, Noah Kincaid, has a fund started, but he has a fund for many things in this town, as does Jack. There are plenty of people around here who live comfortably but far more who barely squeak by. Everyone pulls together admirably and there’s no question that a surgery for Megan is a good cause, but so is medication for Adie Clemens, who lives on social security, or Burt Jackson, who’s losing the farm that’s been in his family for generations. There’s a whole flock of women who can’t afford mammograms and we’ve managed to get a nonprofit organization in here now and then to do free ones. Cam and I do wellness exams for the cost of lab work in an effort to keep people healthy. We do what we can. We can’t do it all.”

“But you don’t mind if I look into it? Research a little bit?”

“In fact, I’d appreciate it,” Mel said. “You have a good heart, Angie.”

“I just wish I could leave here knowing Megan’s scar is going to be fixed.”

“Well, my advice is that everything seems to boil down to knowing who to call. I’ve tried a lot of agencies and foundations on this one with very little positive feedback. Having someone else take over the computer and phone will be helpful.”

“I’ll bring my laptop with me tomorrow. I might have a few people I can ask that you haven’t thought of yet.”

“I would love that. Now…is there anything else you’d like to talk about? Asking about last night seemed to get a pretty strong reaction.”

“I think I’ll take a rain check,” Angie said, but she couldn’t seem to help coloring up again.

Mel smiled. “I just want to be here for you if you ever have anything on your mind that you want to talk about. I’m not going to make judgments and I promise not to give advice unless asked.”

“That’s not very Sheridan of you,” Angie said with a laugh.

“I’m a transplant. I don’t carry all the Sheridan traits. Plus, it helps that you’re not my daughter. We all tend to lose objectivity when it comes down to someone we desperately feel we have to protect.”

“That would explain my mother’s behavior,” she said.

“And your uncle’s, to some degree.”

“But…how did you know there was something…?” She couldn’t say it. In case any part of her night was still a secret, she wouldn’t go out of her way to reveal it.

“Well, either you’ve been snowmobiling or you have yourself a little whisker burn there.” Mel raised her eyebrows, giving Angie a pointed look.

Angie’s hands went to her cheeks before she could stop herself. She laughed. Okay—no secrets. Except the details. Delicious, wonderful, mind-blowing details.

* * *

Patrick knew that comparing the women he’d had intimate experiences with, even when done secretly, was not gentlemanly. And Patrick was, if nothing else, a gentleman. However…

His relationship with Leigh had been satisfying in its own way. It must have been—he had never strayed. But even in the beginning he wondered what more he could do to satisfy her, to arouse her, to really make things exciting between them. It always seemed as though she had little interest in sex—in any sort of intimacy, now that he thought about it. There were times, of course, when this was understandable—sometimes they fell into bed tired after working long hours. After a couple of years, he reasoned that they’d drifted into a certain complacency because they were so comfortable; they’d just grown so accustomed to each other. Perhaps they took each other for granted. But there were other times when it chafed—like when he returned from deployments. He had missed her while he was away; he hungered for an obvious sign she had longed for him, too. He would have welcomed some wild lust. Some hot, crazy, sweaty, button-popping, fabric-ripping sex. Hell, he’d have been happy with a really good kiss. Anything to show him that his absence had affected her.

But Leigh wasn’t made that way. She was emotionally reserved and even more so when it came to sex. The woman was so damned beautiful and socially vivacious, it felt as though she should be an erotic dream come true, yet she was always so busy perfecting her social image that there was hardly any time left to spend with Patrick. She assured him he was a wonderful lover and that she desired him more than anyone else. And she said she loved him. He bought it, too. Until she left him and never looked back.

Angie, on the other hand, couldn’t seem to get enough of him during their night together. She was Leigh’s polar opposite in bed—and Patrick loved it.

Patrick drove all the way to Fortuna for breakfast. Under the circumstances, he didn’t think he could hold a conversation with Jack. And Jack liked to talk. Chances were good if Jack looked deeply into Patrick’s green eyes he would see images of his niece burned into the irises. Patrick’s palms still tingled from where he’d touched her.

He made a run to the grocery store. He was a passably good cook, but he didn’t want to spend a lot of time cooking or cleaning up that evening, and he wasn’t sure what Angie liked to eat, so he played it safe—chicken stir-fry, brown rice, wine. A little cheesecake in case she had a sweet tooth.