Paradise Valley (Virgin River #7)(48)

And that’s what she would say, if she became convinced he was just another difficult man who had to be sure he was always on top, that he was first ahead of her work, her sense of self, her need to be productive. She just hadn’t seen that in him. There was something different about Walt, and she’d known it since the first moment she’d met him. He had all the ingredients of the superior male beast—big, tough, heroic, masterful, dominant. But then she’d see him with his daughter or grandchild and realize that he was more than that. He had a tenderness so deep, a loyalty so strong, and a reliability so constant she wanted to embrace it and never let go.

So she was taking her brief ten-day hiatus in Virgin River to find out if Walt was just another man, or maybe a little lonely, in need of reassurance. She’d earned the break. And Walt, she thought, had earned the benefit of the doubt.

The pilot of her plane had asked around and found her a ride. Once home, she called Walt’s house, but there was no answer. Jeez. Hollywood might be all superficial fluff, but at least they could exist on cell phones!

She rustled up her extra set of keys and took her truck into town. Ah, there he was—his Tahoe was parked in front of Jack’s with quite a few other vehicles. A glance at her watch told her it was probably dinnertime. She walked into the quiet hum of conversation; Jack’s was rarely real noisy. She pulled off her hat, ruffled her hair with her fingers and scanned the room. Then she saw his broad back. He sat up at the bar talking with his niece, Shelby, while Luke stood behind Shelby with a hand on her shoulder. On Walt’s other side was Paul, lifting a beer.

“Hey, now,” she heard Jack say, causing them all to turn.

Muriel had taught herself to read people a long time ago. It was necessary in her line of work to get a message from the body language and the eyes. Walt smiled a little bit, but his posture opened to her and his eyes grew instantly warm. Yet it was Shelby who jumped off her stool. “Muriel! What are you doing here?”

She gave Shelby a hug. “Taking a little break from filming while I can. How are you?”

“Perfect! But what about you? Is it incredibly exciting?”

Muriel chuckled. “No, sweetheart. It’s mundane. It just happens to fill up about sixteen hours a day and is usually exhausting.” She walked toward the men, arm in arm with Shelby. “Walt, I tried to call. You weren’t home so I came here.”

“Good bet,” he said, leaning toward her. He slipped an arm around her waist and gave her a peck on the cheek.

Ah, there it was. She could feel the vibration under his skin. He was glad to see her. Maybe relieved. She didn’t want to make a scene by throwing herself into his arms, so she turned to Luke. “How are you? I see he didn’t shoot you.”

Luke laughed and shook his head. “Not yet. But I’m still listening for that rifle cock.”

“Hell, I’m still listening for that,” Paul said, sipping his beer.

Jack chuckled and said, “What’s your pleasure, Muriel?”

“How about a beer? Whatever you think I’ll like.”

“Done,” he said, slapping a napkin on the bar.

“How’s the family, Jack?”

“Exceptional. Mel’s exceptionally gorgeous and demanding, Emma’s exceptionally beautiful and David is an exceptionally bad terrible two. We may not survive him.”

“Oh, weaker men than you have made it through that stage,” she said. She picked up her beer and raised it. “I hope you have some good gossip. I’ve missed the hell out of this place.”

“I think we can keep you entertained for a little while,” Shelby said. And for the next half hour or so, she laughed and hummed at the local tales, both funny and serious. Shelby had decided to make Luke’s life and marry him, date to be announced, the local pediatrician was living with Vanni’s pregnant girlfriend, Jack was having trouble getting Rick to open up on the phone about how he was doing in rehab, but within a couple of weeks he could go down to Naval Medical Center in San Diego to pick him up, bring him home. And little David had a big, round, purple lump on his forehead from throwing himself on the floor in a temper and banging his head.

Walt didn’t let it go on very long. Jack handed him a sack of some of Preacher’s takeout and he stood from the bar. “You must be starving,” he said to Muriel. He lifted one dark brow and tilted his head toward the door.

Now, Muriel was too aware that if anyone else in this bar had pulled that trick, the laughter and jeering would have been relentless. No one got by with anything around here, and certainly nothing that obvious. But this was the general and even Shelby, who had him wrapped around her little finger, was cautious. Respectful.

“Starving,” she said with a smile. Then she turned to Jack. “I’ll be around for ten days. I’ll see plenty of everyone. Tell Mel I said hello and I’ll catch up with her.”

“You bet.”

Outside, on the bar’s porch, Walt slipped an arm around her waist. He put his rough cheek against hers and said, “Your horses are fed. Come to my place. The usual suspects now know better than to step foot near it.”

A few minutes later she was laughing hysterically as her Labs assaulted her while Walt tried to pin her against the wall just inside the door. And, oh God, had she needed to come home!

“Ten days?” he asked, his voice coarse.