Shelter Mountain (Virgin River #2)(92)

On the way back to town, Mel said, “How did you know to do that?”

Paige shrugged. “It hasn’t been that long, Mel. It wasn’t a full-term baby, but—”

For a moment Mel was shocked speechless. Then she reached across the front seat and grabbed Paige’s hand as she drove. “Oh, Paige, I’m so sorry.”

“Thanks, Mel. But—”

“No, I’m sorry! We were all so focused on how dangerous your husband was, the fact of losing his baby just didn’t seem…Oh, God, me of all people! That was your baby! Paige, please forgive me. I should have helped with your grief. And instead, you’re helping with mine.”

Paige cast her a sweet smile. “I’m so glad I could help. As for me, I’m going to get another chance. And the next time, it will be safer and easier. Sweeter.”

Mel squeezed her hand. “Have I told you how glad I am you came to town?”

The first week of February arrived, bringing with it the excavation crew. The second week in February brought two baby showers, one in Virgin River at the home of Lilly Anderson and the second one in Grace Valley, hosted by June Hudson and Susan Stone.

As February aged and Mel’s own time drew near, her step might have become slower, but her eyes were brighter and she glowed. Joe Benson brought the final plans to Virgin River and Mel sat beside her husband in his truck and watched as the foundations for their house and the one-room guest house were laid out so they could be poured.

As she grew heavier by the day, it became obvious she wasn’t going to be answering many more, if any, emergency calls with Doc. Mel had no babies due, and while she was in town every day, she came later in the mornings. And her husband was never very far from her side.

When Mel and Jack left the bar together at the end of the day, Paige leaned against Preacher and whispered, “I can’t wait until we’re like that.”

“Fat?” he asked, chuckling.

“Fat, full, ready to pop with a new baby. I’m thinking of going off those birth control pills,” she said.

“Anytime you’re ready,” he said, putting his arms around her. “I told you, I’m in all the way.”

“Hmm, that’s so nice. I’m going to give Christopher his bath while you finish up and close the bar.”

“I’ll be up in a minute,” he said, giving her a loving pat on the rump.

It was this time of day that Preacher had come to regard as the magic that made his life work. Every little piece of it. He liked the act of cleaning his kitchen and never failed to feel grateful for all that was his. Had he not been here, working the place for his best friend, he would not have found Paige, and Christopher, who had become his son.

He locked the door and went upstairs to Christopher’s bedroom and, finding him already in the bed, waiting with his book, Preacher sat on the bed beside him. Chris crept closer, climbing up on his lap and touching the pictures in the book while Preacher softly read. Before long, the little guy slept and Preacher was able to kiss him, tuck him in and turn off the lights.

In his own room, he found Paige in front of the bathroom mirror brushing out her hair. She wore her pajama top, which came to her thighs. He came up behind her and moved her hair over one shoulder to kiss her neck, running his big hand up her thigh to her hip, finding, much to his liking, that she was na**d under there. It wasn’t as though she had to be psychic to anticipate him—he wanted her all the time. She wanted him to want her, and she let him know.

His hands crept higher under the shirt until he held one breast in each hand. She leaned her head back against him and hummed in pleasure. He pulled his hands out and slowly began unbuttoning her top, watching himself and her in the mirror. Her right arm came up, reaching behind herself to his shoulder, and curled her hand behind his neck. Her top unbuttoned and hanging open, he slipped one hand inside to cup her breast while his other fell over her soft pubic mound. And he looked at their reflection. Her head turned, she rested against his chest with her eyes closed, one arm lifted high above her head to embrace him, the other resting lightly atop the arm that had captured her breast. He never dared hope for this—that he would be half of a couple, a handsome, erotic, loving and perfect couple. And something surprised him—he didn’t look scary at all. He looked like a man in love, a man holding his woman with sure, strong and gentle hands. And his woman leaning into his embrace, filled with desire for him, her lips parted slightly in a soft sigh. Sighs that would soon become powerful as she gave herself over to him completely. Within her adoring, he had flourished.

Preacher had no idea he could be like this—so sexual, so confident, so deeply in love. He leaned down and kissed the top of her head. “Baby, I’m going to make you feel so good.”

“I know, John,” she whispered. “I know.”

The night that Mike Valenzuela lay in bed and listened to Jack toss and turn after the loss of Liz and Rick’s baby, he knew it was time. And yet—time for what? He had no interest in going back to L.A., though his family was due a visit. There was nowhere else in Virgin River to stay. But three months in the same small space with Mel and Jack was already too much—though you’d never know they felt a strain.

That night he knew. They had to have their home back. That had provoked thought, which stimulated ideas.

He’d come so far—his right arm was stronger, his shoulder pained him less. His hand had a decent grip. He couldn’t cast with the right arm yet, but he saw hope for that because he could now shoot a pistol with his right hand as long as he gave it an assist with his left. Added to that, he had perfected his left-arm aim with both the rifle and the pistol. He could easily keep up with Jack, who was a decorated sharpshooter.