Redwood Bend (Virgin River #18)(22)

“I built my grandmother a coffee table in high school,” Dylan said. “A really ugly coffee table,” he added with a laugh. “But I’m great with an engine. I’ll show up here early and you can check out my building ability. You’ll probably be sorry I offered to help.”

It didn’t escape Dylan’s notice that Conner hadn’t said a word. He scowled a little and seemed to study Dylan. Finally he asked, “You dating my sister?”

He couldn’t help it, it made him laugh outright. “Not according to her,” he said. Then he went for his bike. He’d let Conner ask his sister that question when she checked in with him later. He kind of wished he could hear her answer, though he suspected it would be unflattering. Women were usually kind of jazzed to date him. Not this one, apparently.

As he drove back to his little cabin, he thought hard about the fact that this was an entirely new experience for him—Katie Malone could take him or leave him. Even though Dylan never played the movie star card, he was accustomed to the women being a little more…motivated.

Back at the Riordan cabins at dusk, Luke was starting a fire in the pit. After parking the bike, Dylan walked down to the fire. “Is this a nightly tradition?”

“Only on cool nights when Shelby isn’t working,” Luke said. “She’s getting the baby settled. How about a beer?”

“I could be talked into that. What I’d really like is to hear about the Black Hawk—your training and some of the stuff you did.”

Luke grinned. “I did some war, buddy. Including Mogadishu.” And then he went for the beer.

Luke knew what Dylan and his buddies did for a living, but he didn’t know the details. Nor did he know the company was Dylan’s and it was struggling. He was more than happy to swap stories over a couple of beers. While Dylan wanted to know all about a career in a war chopper, to his surprise Luke was very interested in flying charters and impressed to learn that Dylan had type ratings in several aircraft. They talked through a couple of beers before they killed the fire.

He set his phone alarm for 4:30 a.m., which would give him plenty of time to brew a little coffee before heading to town, but he was wide-awake at four. That put him in Virgin River just after four-thirty. He took a look at the stack of play-set parts. There were no plans, of course. Likely Paul would bring them later, but it seemed pretty straightforward—four A-frames that would be joined by top bars, to which ladders, slides, rings and other stuff could be added. So he got to work on that.

It wasn’t until Conner pulled up in his truck that Dylan realized he’d made it to the school early deliberately. He might not have planned it, but he woke up ahead of the alarm, ready to go, anxious to get there ahead of the other men.

He stood from the crouch where he was piecing together the A-frames to greet Conner, who was wearing the same grumpy face. “Good morning,” Dylan tried. Conner merely nodded. “I didn’t have any plans, but I think it’s pretty obvious how this fits together so I got started.” Conner just went to the tool chest in his truck bed and pulled out a smaller, more portable tool chest and carried it to where Dylan had been working. “I said good morning,” Dylan repeated.

Conner glowered at him. “And I said—” He dropped his chin in a nod.

Something from his childhood came back and he said, “I hope your face doesn’t freeze that way.” When that made Conner’s expression slightly more fierce, Dylan couldn’t help but laugh. “Come on, man. Relax. I took them to McDonald’s. And I’m only going to be around a couple more days.”

“Why are you around?” Conner asked.

“I’m checking out the area and waiting for a call from L.A. about a possible job. After that, I’m headed home. Of all the people I’ve met around here, you’re the only one who’s been unfriendly!”

“I’m probably the only one with a little sister,” he said. Conner pulled out a battery-operated screwdriver, the baby version of a torque. “Tighten up those screws with this,” he said, handing it to Dylan.

“You mean I got this right?” he asked, accepting the screwdriver.

“Not exactly brain surgery,” Conner said.

“You know, I’d be a lot nicer to you if you were trying to learn to fly.”

“You teach flying?” Conner asked.

“I’m a flight instructor, yeah. Among other things aviation. It’s what I do.”

“In Montana,” Conner seemed to want to confirm.

“You can start timing me,” Dylan said. “I should be a memory in a couple of days because I do have things to do.”

“Okay, sorry,” Conner said, but he didn’t look all that sorry. “I’m Katie’s only family and I worry about her sometimes.”

“Well, from what I saw, she can take care of herself.” And then he turned and proceeded to tighten the screws.

It was only moments before some others showed up. Jack had a big thermos of coffee and a box of doughnuts in the back of his truck. “Hey,” he said, all grins as he stuck his hand out to Dylan. Paul was right behind him and then, to his surprise, Luke followed. They all stood around the back of Jack’s truck with coffee and doughnuts for about fifteen minutes and it was confirmed—the only grump in the crowd turned out to be Conner, who kept looking at him suspiciously. As if he was going to kidnap Katie.