My Kind of Christmas (Virgin River #20)(52)

“It happens almost all the time in my family. There have been a couple of exceptions. My aunt Brie was divorced—her ex-husband was…is a real screwup. He left his second wife, too. But Brie’s so solid with Mike, it’s wonderful. Uncle Jack didn’t get married till he was forty, never even had a close call. But as soon as he found Mel, there was no one else in the world for him.”

“My brothers weren’t exactly fast burners in that department. Well, Luke—he was married before. Briefly. And Aiden even more briefly. That would inspire caution in any man, I guess.”

She put down her fork and tilted her head. “Every man and woman wants what your friend Jake had. Every single one. That’s the dream, right? The kind of powerful love that lasts a lifetime? And no matter what you say about all the married guys you know who are bored or discontent or just too plain dumb to appreciate their good luck, I bet there are a lot of couples who appreciate their good fortune and treat their marriages very carefully.” When he didn’t say anything, she added, “I bet there are.”

“My father was a blusterer,” Patrick said.

“And mine is the studious and silent type, all too happy to let my mother dominate the conversation. But they hold hands. They love to travel together. They surprise me all the time. Once I saw him give her a pat on the ass in the kitchen and I thought, wow, they’ve still got it.”

“I have to say, I never saw that at my house. My mother thought about being a nun. And my father was—”

“A blusterer,” she said with a laugh.

Patrick held her hand across the table. “What do you want, Angie?”

“I never saw Jake and Marie together,” she said with a shrug. “And I’m the last person to ask how to guarantee the future. I mean, didn’t I get an up close and personal lesson in how unpredictable life can be? So, after falling in love, what I really want is a man who believes marriage can work. A man willing to try for that. A man who won’t give up. Because I already know that if I make a commitment it would take a terrible string of crises to get me to give up.”

“How will you know when you’re in love?”

“I’ll know,” she said. “I’ll absolutely know.”

He smiled at her. “I want you to do something for me. I want you to take the weekend off. Come with me to Colin’s tomorrow night—Luke, Shelby and their little boy will be there. Jillian’s sister and her family are coming over. They’ve been baking and freezing rolls and breads for Jack to put in the town’s Christmas baskets. The house is amazing, decorated for the holidays. You’ll like them—they’re nice people.”

“I can swing through the coast towns for a few hours and then—”

Patrick shook his head. “There won’t be time. I rented us a snowmobile. For Sunday.”

“You did?” she asked, coming out of her chair. “You did!”

“We’re wearing helmets,” he informed her. “And we’re going on an approved trail so we don’t run into any wire fences.”

“Oh, Paddy, you are so cool. But I can still make a run through—”

He was shaking his head again. “Tomorrow we’re going to sleep in, then lie around in front of the fire, have a big breakfast—not early. I know you don’t like an early breakfast. Then we’re going over to Colin and Jillian’s. I’ll give you a tour of the property on their little snowplow. You can see the greenhouses, the big Victorian they live in, the farm.” He grinned at her.

“But, Patrick, I’m getting closer to the amount I need—”

He squeezed her hands. “We’re going to play. Then on Monday you should call Catherine. Book the surgery for Megan because if you can drum up almost two thousand dollars in four days, you’re going to get there, no sweat. And whatever else you need in the end to get it up to five thousand, I’m going to chuck in.”

“Patrick…”

“The whole time I was dating Leigh, she dragged me to fundraiser after fundraiser, a slew of silent auctions, raffled prizes and fancy events that required big tickets for charitable contributions. I’m scared to even think what I shelled out and nothing I can remember felt as right as this does. Go with it, Ange. I won’t get in your business and steal all your thunder in this campaign—you’re doing great and I’m proud of you. But I want to have some fun this weekend and I also want to dump some money in the Megan fund.”

“Wow,” she said. “Do you realize how wonderful you sound?”

“Yes, I do,” he said with a firm nod. “And I think I’m underappreciated.”

“Well, we can’t have that!” She stood up and lifted her plate and his. “I’ll do the dishes.”

Elbows braced on the table, fingers laced together, chin on his hands, he watched her clear away the dishes. But the minute she had them rinsed and in the sink, he stood up. He scraped the chair back loudly and when she turned to look at him, he was smiling that half smile and his eyes were smoldering. He approached her slowly, but then grabbed her up in his arms, lifting her off the floor. She laughed and looped her arms around his neck.

“Listen, mister. Don’t think you can buy my love.”

“I don’t intend to. I’m going to seduce your love. Then I’m going to help buy you an operation.”