My Kind of Christmas (Virgin River #20)(43)

She studied his face for a moment. A long, stretched-out moment. Finally she asked, “What kind of wine?”

Chapter Nine

When Angie entered the bar in the morning, it was empty. She went behind the bar, helped herself to a cup of coffee, then went back around to sit up on one of the stools. It was only a couple of minutes before Jack came from the kitchen.

“Hi,” she said. “Mel said you wanted to have a cup of coffee with me.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

He got out his own mug and filled it. She couldn’t miss the fact that he wore a troubled frown, that he was contemplative.

“Ange, I went out to the cabin last night. I got off a little early and since I hadn’t seen you all day I wanted to surprise you with some takeout and a nice bottle of wine.”

“Aww. How sweet.”

“Well, obviously I didn’t make it inside. I thought it might be awkward, what with the lights out and Patrick’s Jeep there.” He looked at her pointedly.

“He surprised me. When I got home from the clinic he was there. Did you see the lights? He put up Christmas lights and a wreath. I’m thinking about a small Christmas tree, but I don’t have ornaments. I could string popcorn or something. We used to do that—”

“Ange, Patrick was there. It was nine-thirty.”

She looked at her watch. “He was there at eight-thirty this morning, too.”

Jack groaned, leaned on the bar and put his head in his hand. “Angie, Angie, Angie.”

But she held firm, looking him straight in the eyes. “I like him. He’s a great guy.”

Jack lifted his head. “He’s a Navy pilot from Charleston.”

“I know this. On leave until the twenty-third. Then back to the base…and probably the ship.”

“So you know it has no potential? That it won’t last? That you’re having a little…?”

She leaned toward him. “Jack, he spent the night. I have very high standards, especially since that last boyfriend dumped me before I even remembered who he was. Paddy is a perfect gentleman. Uncle Jack, I’m twenty-three. I’m not a child, and I’m certainly not a nun.”

“You seem so young to your poor old uncle Jack....”

She shook her head sadly. “Emma’s going to have a hard time with you. My mother was engaged at twenty-three.”

“Your mother was engaged twice,” he corrected.

Angie sat back. “Really? I didn’t know that!”

“The first one was a mistake. Angie, I worry about Patrick. There are things bothering him.”

“His best friend was killed right in front of him! Recently. You’re right—of course it bothers him.”

“I think he has PTSD stuff going on.”

She laughed. “Jack, I have PTSD!” To his shocked expression she said, “Oh, I get it, you thought PTSD was reserved for the military. Most of my issues are very different from Paddy’s, but it’s amazing how much we have in common. PTSD is something you have to work through—it doesn’t mean you’re permanently damaged goods. And you know what? I thought I dreaded everyone knowing, but I’m glad it’s out—now maybe we can get dinner here or order takeout or be seen together. I’m kind of tired of all this sneaking around.”

“This was supposed to be a break from your mother until you two could learn to get along better, not a chance to get involved in something even more complicated.”

She took a sip of her coffee. “And thank you—it’s been much more fulfilling than I dared hope.” He groaned and dropped his head in his hands again. “Stop reading into everything,” she said, laughing. “I’m working on getting Megan Thickson some help—surgery on that scar. And I’m actually making progress. Just a little, but I have some good people trying to help me. My old neurosurgeon for one. I really love that guy.”

“Angie, I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Jack, where were you when I was sixteen, sitting in the living room in my prom dress with Grandpa and his camera waiting, with my sisters giggling, with Mom and Dad and Aunt Mary and Aunt Brie all set to snap pictures for a date who didn’t show, who not only stood me up but took someone else instead?” She shook her head. “You know what my first choice would be? That I lived in the same general area where Paddy lives, or is stationed, and that we could date for months or years, like my mom and dad did. And my second choice? For you to let me make my own decisions for three more weeks.”

“Have you told your mother?”

“I haven’t told anyone, but around here there aren’t any secrets, I guess.”

“What will your mother say?” he asked.

“I don’t care what she says, if she even finds out. I’m not a baby or an invalid and the bunch of you better get that straight or I might do something dramatic, like run away. Again.” She stood up. “Really, I’m glad it’s out. Wrap your brain around this, Uncle Jack. I like him. I’m not giving him up. Now I have phone calls to make, so I’ll see you later.”

“Angie, those Riordans…”

She turned back to him.

“They’re good guys, don’t get me wrong. But they’re not pups. They’re warriors, every last one of them. Rugged. Not exactly…docile.”