Shelter Mountain (Virgin River #2)(23)

It was about eight-thirty and there were a few hunters in the bar. Jack was handling the front. Buck Anderson had brought Mel a couple of nice-size lamb shanks, which came straight to Preacher. He was reading about lamb shanks hestia with cucumber raita when he heard a small shuffle. He looked over the counter to see Christopher standing at the bottom of the stairs, stark naked, book under one arm, Bear under the other.

Preacher lifted one bushy brow. “Forget something there, pardner?” he asked.

Chris picked at his left butt cheek while hanging on to the bear. “You read to me now?”

“Um…Have you had your bath?” Preacher asked. The boy shook his head. “You look like you’re ready for your bath.” He listened upward to the running water.

Chris nodded, then said again, “You read it?”

“C’mere,” Preacher said.

Chris ran around the counter, happy, raising his arms to be lifted up.

“Wait a second,” Preacher said. “I don’t want little boy butt on my clean counter. Just a sec.” He pulled a clean dish towel out of the drawer, spread it on the counter, then lifted him up, sitting him on it. He looked down at the little boy, frowned slightly, then pulled another dish towel out of the drawer. He shook it out and draped it across Chris’s na**d lap. “There. Better. Now, what you got here?”

“Horton,” he said, presenting the book.

“There’s a good chance your mother isn’t going to go for this idea,” he said. But he opened the book and began to read. They hadn’t gotten far when he heard the water stop, heard heavy footfalls racing around the upstairs bedroom, heard Paige yell, “Christopher!”

“We better get our story straight,” Preacher said to him.

“Our story,” Chris said, pointing at the page in front of him.

Momentarily there were feet coming down the stairs, fast. When she got to the bottom, she stopped suddenly. “He got away from me while I was running the tub,” she said.

“Yeah. In fact, he’s dressed like he barely escaped.”

“I’m sorry, John. Christopher, get over here. We’ll read after your bath.”

He started to whine and wiggle. “I want John!”

Paige came impatiently around the counter and plucked him, squirming, into her arms.

“I want John,” he complained.

“John’s busy, Chris. Now, you behave.”

“Uh—Paige? I’m not all that busy. If you’ll tell Jack I’m not in the kitchen for a bit, I could do the bath. Tell Jack, so he knows to lock up if everyone leaves.”

She turned around at the foot of the stairs. “You know how to give a child a bath?” she asked.

“Well, no. But is it hard? Harder than scrubbing up a broiler?”

She chuckled in spite of herself. She put Chris down on his feet. “You might want to go a little easier than that. No Brillo pads, no scraping. No soap in the eyes, if you can help it.”

“I can do that,” Preacher said, coming around the counter. “How many times you dunk him?” She gasped and Preacher showed her a smile. “Kidding. I know you only dunk him twice.”

She smirked. “I’ll see if Jack needs anything, and then I’ll be up to supervise.”

Paige was peeling and slicing apples, Preacher rolling out pie dough, when Jack came into the kitchen. “Mel’s out front,” he told them. “She’s going over to the Eureka mall, Paige—she can’t get into her pants anymore. She said you can ride along, if you need anything.”

Paige looked at John, lifting her brows.

“Go on, Paige,” he said. “Chris won’t be up for another hour and I got the kitchen. You probably need all kinds of things.”

“Sure, thanks,” she said, putting her apple and knife in the bowl, taking off her apron.

“Listen,” Preacher said, wiping his hands on a dish towel. “I don’t even know if you have credit cards, but you have to be real careful about that. You should shop with cash—huh?” He pulled out his wallet, took some bills out and began to unfold them, peeling off one, then another, then…

Paige went completely pale, her eyes round and clearly frightened. She started shaking her head and backing away. “Tell…Tell Mel I have to do…some things…Okay?”

Jack tilted his head, frowning. “Paige?” he asked.

Paige backed up until she was against the wall, her hands behind her back, her face as white as alabaster. Then a tear rolled down her cheek.

Preacher put his wallet on the counter and said, “Give us a minute, Jack.” Then he took off his own apron and walked toward her. As he neared, she slid down the wall to the floor and put her hands over her face.

Preacher got on his knees in front of her and gently tugged at her hands, pulling them away from her face and holding them. “Paige,” he said softly. “Paige, look at me. What just happened there?”

Her expression was panicked. Tears ran down her cheeks, but her voice was a whisper. “He did that,” she said. “Got his money out of his pocket and said, ‘Go buy yourself some nice things.’ He did that so much. Later, he’d throw the money at me and say he couldn’t afford to have a wife that looked like a vagrant.”

Preacher sat on the floor right next to her. “Did you hear what I said? I didn’t say anything like that, did I? I said, you have to be careful, don’t use your charge card.”