Redwood Bend (Virgin River #18)(37)

When she walked in with a brown paper bag, she was smiling. “Preacher’s omelets are so huge, we can split one…”

“Okay,” he said weakly.

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.” Everything.

“You have a very strange look on your face.”

“Crap,” he said. He took the bag from her hands, put it on the counter and threw her over his shoulder, her laughter pealing out through the little cabin as he carried her back to the bedroom. Once there he pulled off her clothes, put his hands and lips on every inch of her body and took her to eight. And nine.

“My God,” she said, breathless and glistening. “This has to stop! At least long enough for nourishment!”

He laughed at her and said, “That omelet’s cold anyway. It’ll keep ten more minutes. I have to ask you something.”

“Shoot.”

“How screwed up are your kids going to be about finding me in your bed?”

“They didn’t even mention it, Dylan. I suspect they thought nothing of it.”

“But we’re not married or anything…”

“Neither are Conner and Leslie, where they spent the night last night, although they are an established couple who live together. But the boys are very curious—if they’d had questions, they would’ve asked. It was a first for them, however.”

“A first?”

“You’re my first sleepover since they were born. They never even witnessed their own dad in my bed.”

“Oh,” he said. “You got your guys out the door before the boys were up?”

She laughed softly. “You’re my first since Charlie. I was open to the idea, but never met anyone who qualified. I hope that’s not too much pressure…”

He leaned toward her until his forehead was resting against hers. “Nine,” he said.

“I was faking seven and eight,” she said.

He smiled at her. “Good fake. Your whole body shook. So, can you talk about him? Can you explain about your marriage? Even though we’re…” He ran a hand down her na**d body.

“Of course. I’m not cheating on him. What would you like to know?”

“How was marriage? Romantic?”

She laughed. “Sometimes, but not always. See, Charlie was a soldier, and not just any soldier, but Special Forces. Highly disciplined, expertly trained and dangerous in many settings. To say he was rough around the edges would be an understatement. He was a man with a very special commitment. It took remarkable strength and conviction for him to do his work. And, it took a unique kind of commitment to be married to him. For example, one night at a bar a young soldier saw pregnant me and said something off-color—I think it was, ‘Holy f**k, mama.’ And Charlie slapped him around. Almost knocked him out without leaving a mark—Green Beret. He knew how to do scary things like that, but with me he was so gentle, so wonderful. He was upset that the man used that language in front of me. Yet just a few hours later he yelled, ‘Katie! Where’s the f**king towel!’” She shook her head and laughed. “His language—the worst. I’m afraid if Charlie was still alive my boys might be saying things like, ‘I can’t f**king tie my shoe.’ But there was never any question about how he felt about me.”

“Do you think you’d still be married today if he was alive?”

She took a moment to think. “Some groups like Green Berets, Rangers, SEALs, that sort of thing—they do have trouble in marriages—they were gone a lot, had a lot of combat issues, some of them had trouble with that line between rough and gentle with their families. Not Charlie, though. I never doubted how much he valued me, loved me. I think I felt more respect from Charlie than I had before in my life. And I always felt safe with him. Yes, I’d like to think we’d have lasted. Forever.”

“He sounds perfect…”

That made her laugh. “I’m well aware of his flaws, believe me. He could be a slob, unless he was standing inspection, and then he was meticulous—pressed and shiny and buttoned down, while I’d have to follow him around and pick up his towel and underwear. He could get silent on me—deep and quiet and hard to draw out. Who knew if he was thinking about some dark combat experience or his breakfast cereal. If I cried, he had no idea what to do—he was not a natural at handling a woman’s emotions. Sometimes he laughed at the most inappropriate times and he was one of those alpha idiots who always had to ask if I had my period when I got upset with him. He could get jealous and possessive, but he completely forgot my birthday. And no one had ever made me feel more cherished on a daily basis than Charlie. He was full of flaws—and I’d marry him all over again. I trusted him with my life—that’s hard to find.”

It was Dylan’s turn to be quiet. He’d never heard a testimony like that before, not even from Lang, who nearly worshipped Sue Ann. “Do you still miss him sometimes?” Dylan asked.

And she decided on honesty. Actually, she had decided over five years ago, she would never lie about something like that. “Yes. Whenever I look at his boys. But missing him isn’t the same as longing for him. As long as I can do right by our sons… That’s my job, Dylan.” She gave his arm a stroke. “Don’t worry about screwing them up by being around them, Dylan. I’m always going to protect my boys.”