Paradise Valley (Virgin River #7)(26)

She’d been so lovely in her response, consoling him, praising his sensitivity. But what he really wanted was to wrap his arms around her and hold her close. He had no idea how long it would be until he could do that again.

They didn’t even talk every day. When he called her, he almost always got her voice mail; when she called him, it was usually very early or very late. Sometimes she called him while she was on the treadmill, killing two birds with one stone, and the huffing and puffing was too annoying for him to listen to.

He soldiered on. It was what he was trained to do. The bar in Virgin River was a little sparse and quiet these days, but he dropped by to see if there was any news from Jack. Sometimes he had dinner with Vanni, Paul and Abby at their house. And he tended Muriel’s horses twice a day, letting them into the corral after feeding them, mucking their stalls, brushing them down, checking their hooves.

On this particular night, he ate a sandwich and headed for Muriel’s with the dogs in tow. They seemed to love going home. He drove up at dusk and noticed there was an old car parked in front of the porch and all the lights were on inside the big house. The dogs immediately started barking at the front door. He thought about calling Mike V to tell him Muriel’s had been broken into, but instead he fetched a pitchfork from the barn and used his key to let himself in. He knew the dogs would let him know where the intruder was.

They ran right up the stairs. He followed at a distance and then heard a squeal he definitely recognized.

He appeared in the bedroom doorway, pitchfork in hand, clad in jeans and a plaid flannel shirt, and looked at the woman in the bed. She was struggling to keep the sheet over her na**d br**sts, laughing, petting her dogs. “Well!” she said. “About time! Maybe I should get a better caretaker. I thought you’d never get here.”

“What in the world are you doing here?” he asked, leaning the pitchfork up against the wall.

She grinned at him and pushed her dogs off the bed. “Bringing comfort and joy.”

“How long have you been here?”

“A couple of hours. Completely na**d and getting cold. Did you close the front door?”

“I don’t think so,” he said, a state of shock overwhelming him.

“Then, Walt, what say you close it. So these dogs don’t have free run of the property.”

“Muriel,” he said. “Holy damn, are you a sight for sore eyes.”

“So are you,” she said softly. “Now, get that door closed for me. Hmm?”

He grinned largely. “You got it.”

“Thank God. I’m in no condition to take care of that. But I am in a condition.”

He was downstairs and back upstairs in short order. He closed the Labs out of the bedroom and stood at the side of the bed. He looked down at her and his eyes glowed. “You look a little different,” he said.

“I’ve had my hair colored several times. They don’t think I have it right yet.” She held out her hands. “Nails. I have nails again. And I’m wearing makeup for a change. But I have the same body. I don’t know if that’ll come as good news or bad.”

He grinned at her. Then he pulled off his boots and clothes, dropped everything on the floor and crawled in beside her, taking her into his arms. “Good news,” he said. “God, Muriel. I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you more, I think.”

“We can’t even have a goddamn conversation.”

“Insane, isn’t it? I hate the schedule. But I tried to tell you—it’s not about being a star, it’s about working your tail off. There’s never a break.”

“And yet you’re here.”

“I had a small fit. I’m entitled once in a while. I know all about when and how to do that, you know. A couple of our wannabe stars were missing all sorts of fittings and readings and I finally said, Hey, I have property, animals and a boyfriend up north and I’m not feeling happy about wasting time here, waiting around for people to get it together. I need a day off! So one of the producers rounded up an airplane and gave me a little time off.”

“Is there a Lear at that little airport?”

“There is.”

“Whose car do you have parked outside?”

“Something left in long-term parking by an airport-tower guy who’s out of town. I have permission.”

“And how much time do you have?”

“A night and long morning. I’m sorry. I’m not that good at tantrums. But I wanted to see you.” She ran her fingers through his silver hair. “How are you, Walt? I’ve been a little worried.”

“I’m better now.” He lifted the sheets. “I’m getting better by the second.” He ran a big hand down over her shoulder, her breast, all the way to her hip. “You’re the same here. Your skin may be softer.” And then he covered her mouth with his. He kissed her deeply and thoroughly. “I haven’t fed the horses yet.”

“I fed them. I didn’t want us to be interrupted,” she said. “Ohhhh. I’m really glad I showed up. Do you have any idea how wonderful your hands feel on me?”

“Tell me,” he said, kissing her cheeks, neck, shoulder, breast.

“Mmm. Well, almost as good as your lips….”

He chuckled. “Muriel, did you just come back for sex?”