Promise Canyon (Virgin River #13)(63)

Lilly had spent so much energy fighting the old ways, but by degrees she was being reunited with her roots and she couldn't deny a feeling of coming home. Clay was bringing her comfort by way of reunion and familiarity every day, in so many small but significant ways.

She tilted her head back and closed her eyes, allowing herself to be seduced by the melody, so ghostly and captivating. She could almost see the men of her community in their Native garb, moving to the flute's music, the women swaying. She was lost in her own fantasy for a long time, and then the music stopped. She opened her eyes to find Clay walking toward her.

When he reached her, he put a finger under her chin and lifted it so he could place a light kiss on her lips.

"That was very beautiful, Clay," she said.

"My father's instrument. He taught me and I find it soothing."

"Music is such a big part of our relationship--the opera and now this. But I can't think of a way you can seduce me with the flute and make love to me at the same time."

His smile was teasing. "I like the music we make together whether there's music or not."

"Have the horses been taken care of?"

He nodded. "Annie and Nathaniel are out for a few hours, so we have to stay here. There's a pizza in their oven for us. Then we can grab a shower and I have plans for you. If you can stay, that is?"

"And go home later?" she asked.

"Stay the night," he said. "We'll get up early, feed the horses, go for a ride."

"I didn't bring a change of clothes, Clay."

"You don't need a change. I'll give you a T-shirt to sleep in. Or maybe I can keep you warm, myself. You can wear the same jeans in the morning, can't you?"

"What if Annie or Nate comes to your room?"

"Lilly, with your Jeep parked by my truck, they'd know to knock! If there's an emergency, we can get up and help."

She thought about this and then smiled dreamily. "What kind of pizza?"

"Half pepperoni and sausage, half pineapple and double cheese."

"You cater to me," she said with a smile. "That's good. You're very well trained."

"Do you have any idea how spectacular my life is when you're happy?" he asked.

"I must be quite the Hopi princess--it pleases me that you want to please me."

"I'm very hungry."

"Then let's eat," she said.

"And after that we can get to what I'm really hungry for."

There were only two people in Jack's Bar even though it was that time of day when the regulars usually gathered. Mel had stopped in before going home to the children and Mike Valenzuela, Jack's brother-in-law, had just come by for a beer.

It was easy for family and friends to see Jack Sheridan being jovial and teasing--it was his natural state. What was difficult for his friends and family to see was him being morose. Sad. Disappointed. Jack wasn't a guy who felt sorry for himself, so that kind of unhappiness was difficult to take. And he was under the weather emotionally because a pretty significant portion of his town, his friends, neighbors and regulars at the bar, were distancing themselves--all because Jack wouldn't provide information about the substance of the Virgin River Trust, and he wasn't willing to turn it over to townsfolk for their personal use.

"Maybe I was wrong," he said to Mike and Mel. "Mel and Preacher were right--I shouldn't have held a meeting, shouldn't have opened up the whole thing for discussion. I didn't know Hope that well, but I know she wouldn't start writing checks to clear equity loans and second mortgages."

"It's water over the dam," Mike said. "They'll get over it."

"Or not," Jack said.

"They'll get over it or have to drive a long way for a beer and good food. This is the only game in town, this bar."

"Ron and Connie used to eat here once, twice a week. Harv doesn't have breakfast here anymore. Haven't had any traffic from the Andersons, Bristols or Fishburns. And out at the estate sale, most people who came just to watch brought their own food and drink even though we'd set up the grills. I think that bothered me more than them not talking to me--that they don't want what we're offering as friends."

Preacher came out of the kitchen just at the end of that comment. He walked up behind the bar next to Jack. "Screw 'em. We need a sign for this town all right, and it needs to say You'll Catch More Flies With Honey."

Right then the door opened and Walt Booth came in. After a round of greetings, the general was up at the bar and without being asked, Jack served him up a beer. Right behind him the door opened again and Nathaniel and Annie came in.

"What are you two doing here?" Jack asked.

"We heard there was plenty of open seating," Nate said with a smile as they took their places at the bar.

"Oh, so that's it," Jack said. "Everyone is feeling sorry for Jack? I hate that worse than not being talked to!"

"They'll all be back, Jack," Walt said. "They're acting like a bunch of kids."

"Let's see how far old Ron gets when he gets sick of fish and wants some leftover brisket," Preacher said. "Or how about when Hugh pulls up in that big old dually he'd like Jack to pay off for him, hops up to the bar and wants to run a tab for his boilermaker and dinner?"