Shelter Mountain (Virgin River #2)(70)

When Mike walked into the bar, no one was there. Well, the place tended to stay pretty empty on rainy afternoons. That was just as well—he only wanted a beer to take the edge off the pain in his shoulder and neck. It was amazing how bad it could get sometimes, and the rain and cold always made it feel worse.

The fire had begun to die down, so he went to the hearth, leaned his cane against the wall and opened the grate. With his left hand he lifted the poker and stirred the logs a little, sending up a flame. Then, holding his right arm protectively against his middle, he reached for a log to put on the fire. Then another.

He looked at his watch. Three o’clock. He could pour himself a beer. Jack and Preacher wouldn’t mind. But he walked back into the kitchen. Paige was in there, kneading a big wad of dough, her back to him. “Hey,” he said.

She turned around and, as quickly, turned back. There had been tears on her face. He frowned. What was this? Trouble in paradise? “Hey,” he said, walking up behind her, squeezing her upper arm with his left hand. “What’s going on?” he asked her.

“Nothing,” she said with a sniff.

He turned her around to face him. He looked down at her pretty face and for the hundredth time thought, that damn Preacher. I bet he doesn’t know what he has here. “This isn’t nothing,” he said, wiping a tear from her cheek.

“I can’t talk about it,” she said.

“Sure you can. Seems like maybe you’d better. You’re all upset.”

“I’ll work it out.”

“Preacher do something to hurt you?”

She immediately started to cry and leaned forward, her head falling on his chest. He put his good arm around her and said, “Hey, hey, hey. It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay,” she cried. “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”

“Maybe if you talk to me, I can help. I’m so good with free advice, you’ll be impressed.”

“It’s just that…I care about him. But he just doesn’t find me…”

Mike lifted her chin. “What, Paige?”

“He doesn’t find me attractive.”

“Bull.”

“Desirable.”

“Paige, that’s nonsense. The way he looks at you, he eats you with his eyes. He’s wacko for you.”

“He won’t touch me,” she said, a large tear spilling over.

That almost knocked Mike down. “No way.”

She nodded pathetically.

“Oh, man,” Mike said. He’d thought, everyone thought, they were doing it all night long. The way they looked at each other, like they couldn’t wait for everyone to leave so they could be alone, get it on. Those sweet little kisses on the cheek, the forehead. The way they touched—careful, so no one would see the sparks fly, but the sparks were flying all over this bar! The sexual tension was electric. “Oh, man,” he said again. He put his arm around her. “Paige, he wants you. Wants you so bad it’s showing all over him.”

“Then why?”

“I don’t know, honey. Preacher’s strange. He’s never been good with women, you know? When we served together, we all managed to find us a woman somewhere. I killed two marriages that way. But not Preacher. It was very rare for him to—” He stopped himself. He was trying to remember—were there women at all? He wasn’t sure; he knew Preacher never had a steady girl. He thought he remembered a woman here, there. It’s not as though he was focused on Preacher’s love life; he was too busy taking care of his own. He probably lacks sexual confidence, Mike thought. It would be hard for him to put the moves on anyone he felt he had to win over.

“I bet he’s scared,” Mike heard himself say.

“How can he be? I’ve practically thrown myself at him! He knows he isn’t going to face rejection!” She dropped her gaze, lowered her voice to a whisper. “He has to know how much I—”

“Oh, brother,” Mike said. “I bet he’s not worried about rejection. Aw, Paige, Preacher’s so shy, sometimes it’s just plain ridiculous. But I promise you, Paige, I’ve known the man a long time—”

“He said he’d trust you with his life. That he has…”

“Yeah, we have that, it’s true. It’s funny with men—you can trust each other with your lives and never talk about anything personal, you know? Sometimes Preacher seems a little naive in the ways of the world.” Then remembering their talk not long ago about depression et cetera, he said, “And at other times, he makes the Grand Canyon look shallow.” He shook his head. “He can be a mystery. There’s more to Preacher than…You really care about him?”

“I do.”

“Then you be patient. He’ll come around. Paige, it’s obvious—he cares about you, too. You and Christopher. I’ve never seen him like this with anybody.”

“Maybe he wants to be sure I’m not just—”

Mike was shaking his head. “He wants to be sure of himself, Paige. Preacher’s real cautious. I think the man could be terrified of disappointing you. That’s my bet.”

“He couldn’t possibly,” she said, and a tear fell again.

Mike wiped it away. “You just have to trust me on this—he’s a bundle of nerves. He’s really good in a fight, really good in a war, and who’da guessed how good a cook he turned out to be, huh? But with women? Paige—he’s never been a hustler. I don’t know of any women. He’s never been that kind of guy. Just not a tomcat like some of the rest of us.”