Shelter Mountain (Virgin River #2)(56)

“I guess you’re in good hands. It’s wet out there tonight. I sent Rick home a half hour ago.”

“Go visit with your wife,” she invited.

She stayed in the bar and it wasn’t long before John joined her there. “He was asleep before we finished. I guess he was just knocked out.” He took down a glass. “Feel like something tonight?”

“No, thanks.”

“You’re a little quiet. Have been the last couple of days,” he said.

She leaned her elbow on the bar, her chin in her hand. “I’ve been thinking a lot. I’m going to be divorced soon. That’s eerie. Though I have no idea what’s coming next.”

He poured himself his nighttime drink. “I have something that might perk you up,” he said. “Sit tight.” He went back to his apartment and was quickly back with a long white envelope. He handed it to her. “I took a chance on this. If it doesn’t work out for you, no big deal.”

She opened it up and found two round-trip plane tickets to Portland. “What’s this?”

“You’ve got a lot on your mind,” he said. “I figured you were probably worrying about what’s ahead for you. Might be a good time to visit that old girlfriend—check on that beauty shop of hers. Just in case…”

“In case?”

“In case you decide to get back to that kind of work.…”

She put the envelope on the bar. When she said she didn’t know what was coming next, she had meant from Wes. Not what she would do, where she would go. She was right where she wanted to be. “John, tell me the truth—are you about ready for me and Chris to move on? The truth, John.”

His expression was stunned. “No!” he said emphatically. “I didn’t get you the tickets because I want you to leave. Hey, they’re round trip! I just thought—I know you miss her. And I know that eventually…” His voice trailed off, incomplete.

She bit her lower lip and looked up at his face. “I should know what you’re thinking. What does eventually mean to you?”

“Paige, I don’t kid myself. I know you can’t be happy here for long. I mean, once you get your life back, get on your feet…”

Tell him, she challenged herself. Tell him the only thing in the world that would make you happy is to be here forever! “Right now I can’t think of anything I’d rather do.”

“That’s why I got you the tickets, for you and Chris. For a visit. You should have options. I didn’t call her and ask, by the way. And it’s over the Thanksgiving holiday, so I got them refundable. If you have to change dates…”

She thought for a second. “Maybe I will have something to drink. How about a little red wine? You have something open back there?”

He looked under the bar and pulled out a bottle of cabernet, showing it to her. She nodded and he poured. After a sip, she picked up the envelope again. “This was very nice of you. Very expensive of you.”

“Think of it as a Christmas present, if you want. Has Chris ever been on an airplane?”

She shook her head. “What if I go to Portland and love everything? How would you feel about that?”

He smiled sweetly, then leaned across the bar and pressed his lips against her forehead. “Nobody I know deserves to be happy more than you,” he said, his voice soft.

Preacher wanted her to be free to choose, that’s why he’d done it. He wasn’t stupid, he could tell she enjoyed herself in his kitchen, in this little town. It made her feel safe and protected, her son was happy. But she should know if there was something better for her. He didn’t want her to stay because it was the path of least resistance—it had to be her ultimate desire.

If she left, he was going to lose his mind. If she stayed, he was going to lose his mind.

She hemmed and hawed about the trip, but in the end she went. She drove herself over to Eureka, left her car at the airport and flew with Chris to her friend. She called when she got there, called a couple of days later to say the city was lovely and Jeannie’s shop was great. They had a dog, a big, friendly Lab, and Chris was in love.

Preacher concentrated on planning Thanksgiving dinner, a custom at the bar. He was grateful to have a big cooking job ahead to take his mind off things. He was making his lists, getting out his recipes. And he stopped shaving his head the day she left. Within four days a cap of short black hair covered his dome.

“What’s going on with this?” Mel laughed, reaching up and rubbing a hand over his bristly, dark head.

“Head’s cold,” he said.

“I like it. Do you grow it in every winter?”

“Head hasn’t been this cold on other winters,” he said. And he hadn’t been infatuated with a woman who had cut hair for a living other winters, either.

“Have you told Paige you have hair on your head?”

“Why would I do that?” he asked her.

She shrugged. “I guess things that pass as news to women are not quite as interesting to men,” she said. “Have you heard from her this week?” she asked.

“She called. She says they’re having a nice visit. Her friend has a dog and Chris is crazy about the dog.” He wiped down the counter. “You think a dog would get in the way around here?”