Shelter Mountain (Virgin River #2)(59)

“It’s one of the first things that convinced me to stay. The way he is with Chris.”

“That’s really awesome,” Jeannie said. “But you can’t stay there forever because of how he is with your child, you know.”

“That isn’t all there is,” she said softly. “It’s how he is with me. But he’s so quiet. So…reluctant. I don’t know if he’s just shy or if he’s a big Boy Scout, doing the right thing and counting the days till I leave and he’s free of this obligation….”

Jeannie had laughed and said, “Make him tell you.”

“Huh?”

“You’ve completely forgotten how to flirt. No surprise. Let him know you want to be there. You love it there, and he’s the biggest draw. Let him know he makes you feel wonderful. Be coy but get him the message—you’re a girl ready for a guy like him. If you flirt with him a little and he’s not interested, he’s going to set you straight eventually. If he’s really shy, you don’t want to confront him and scare him off. So, what have you got to do in the meantime?”

Paige said to John, “You’re sure it’s okay that we’re still here? I mean, with the holidays coming…”

“I don’t know what I’d do without you here,” he said.

“That’s good,” she said. She took a final sip of her wine, stood and kissed his forehead. She let her lips linger there. “This is the only place I want to be. By the way, the hair is sexy. Very sexy.”

With that, she went through the kitchen and up the back stairs to her room. And he thought, I’m going to pass out.

Late in the year the salmon and sturgeon fishing on the Virgin was at a peak, and fishermen came in droves to the river, which meant the bar had plenty of visitors. Many of those who traveled to this part of the world had been here before and had at least a passing acquaintance with Jack and Preacher. But they met with delight the new face on the scene.

Paige was alive with happiness. She delivered drinks and meals, bussed tables, laughed with the patrons and, it did not go at all unnoticed, threw adoring looks at Preacher when they were both in the same room at the same time.

The conversation in the bar always seemed to center around the size of the catch, the conditions on the river, the weather. But something that also came up was Preacher’s apparent catch.

A couple of fishermen were seated at the bar where Jack served when Paige took a tray of dirty dishes back to the kitchen. “This place gets better-looking all the time,” one of them commented to Jack. “Business is bound to pick up on account of the new help. Where’d Preacher find this young beauty?”

“I think she found him,” Jack said, lifting his coffee cup.

“Shouldn’t he be smiling a lot more?”

“You know Preach—he doesn’t like to show too much emotion.”

As for Paige, she thought John was responding to her, in small ways. He certainly wasn’t pushing her away, and she took that as encouragement. Lips touched cheeks and brows more often; there was the occasional embrace. The best part of her day, her life, was that time after the last patron left the bar and John flipped off the Open sign. Christopher was bathed, dishes were done, bedtime story was read, then she and John would spend their private time together. Talking in soft tones in front of a late-night fire. He had begun giving her a very brief kiss on the lips as she headed toward the stairs and he to his room in the back of the grill.

He was the best thing that had ever happened to her. Soon, she hoped, he would realize that what she felt for him was not just gratitude.

Jack had been watching Rick closely. He hadn’t expected him to be carefree, but the boy’s troubled frown seemed to grow deeper and Jack was determined he wasn’t going to let Rick be swallowed up by this, his one mistake.

“You look like a man who needs to go fishing,” Jack said.

“I need to work,” Rick returned.

“I’m a really good boss,” Jack said, grinning. “I’m willing to keep you on the clock if you’re willing to talk about it.”

“You’ll be sorry,” he said. “I’m such a mess, a world-class psychiatrist couldn’t straighten me out.”

“Good thing you have me, then,” Jack said. “Get your gear.”

It was their way that they didn’t broach the subject right off. They drove out to the river, got into their waders and began casting. There were a lot of fishermen this time of year, but that wasn’t a problem; they simply staked out their own little piece of river where they could quietly talk without being overheard above the rushing water. After a little while, a little casting, Jack said, “Lay it on me, pal. What’s eating you?”

“I don’t think I can do it, Jack. I can’t give up my son.”

“Whoa,” Jack said. He hadn’t prepared himself for that, but probably he should have. Where was Mel when he needed her? “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t have a freaking clue,” Rick said. “I saw him on the ultrasound, kicking around in there. I saw his penis. My son. I can’t have someone else raising him. Not when I made him. I’d worry all the time. You know?”

It was not as though Jack had a hard time understanding those feelings. “I’ve heard of adoptions where you can stay in touch, stay involved.”