Sunrise Point (Virgin River #19)(51)

“Please don’t,” Shelby said. “You don’t have to make any commitment here, Coop—we understand this is a stopping off place for you. But please don’t leave before you’re ready just because one person doesn’t understand the circumstances.”

“The most respected person in town,” Coop muttered.

“Jack’s a good guy,” Luke said. “But he’s been known to run into conflicts here and there. He’s also been wrong. And when he’s wrong, he’ll usually man up. It’s worth giving Jack a little time on this.”

“Maybe you didn’t hear me,” Coop said. “I’m not in the mood to explain myself to him, to try to make him understand. I’d rather just get my beer elsewhere.”

“Sure. Reasonable. I’m just saying it’s too soon to pack it in. Just because you’re angry at being judged.”

“Falsely judged,” he clarified.

“Let’s talk about it in a few days,” Colin suggested.

Coop looked down for a moment. Then he took a pull on his bottle of beer and leaned back in his chair. “I thought I was done with this,” he said.

“Any knowledge of what’s happened to Imogene?” Luke asked.

He shook his head. “Nor any curiosity,” Coop said. “Ever have the experience of meeting the wrong person at the wrong time and having a whole lot of stuff just go to hell?”

Luke, Shelby and Colin all looked between each other. Then it was Luke who laughed—Luke who had married pretty stupidly, got his heart really trashed, almost didn’t get over it in more than a dozen years, almost didn’t get over it in time to give himself to Shelby, the best thing that ever happened to him. He reached for Shelby’s hand and held it. “Don’t know what you’re talking about, man.”

* * *

Tom talked to Darla almost every evening. He told her she was more than welcome to come for the weekend, he’d love to see her, but unfortunately he’d be working both Saturday and Sunday.

“Will you have evenings free?” she asked.

“I will,” he said. “I’ll work all day, so I won’t be a party animal, but I don’t work in the dark.”

She laughed at that and said, “I have so much reading to do, it might be nice to just spend the evening together. It sounds like both of us will be working hard all weekend and evenings will be ours. Should I bring some movies?”

There would be baseball. But he said, “Sure.”

Tom didn’t want to, but he couldn’t help but notice that Maxie was a little stressed about Friday night dinner. She made salmon, rice and more asparagus from her fall harvest and although there were none of the evil things involved—like bread, potatoes, gravy, et cetera—Darla didn’t seem to eat much. He supposed this was how it was with her and ignoring it would be best. After all, hadn’t he already had this discussion with himself? He liked women with knockout figures and here was one. That would be hard to keep up unless you lifted apple crates all day or ate grass.

He saw his grandmother’s frown of consternation. “We’re going out for dinner tomorrow night,” he said.

“Oh, splendid,” Maxie said. “You’ll have a wonderful time. Where are you going?”

“I’m not sure yet. I’ll be sure to let you know. You can join us if you like.”

She patted him on the cheek and smiled into his warm eyes. “Thank you, Tom. I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

It came as no surprise that Darla had a special little pack—leather—for her movies, her DVDs. She was kneeling in front of the TV and player. It wasn’t a fancy new TV, but it was high definition—Tom bought it for his grandmother several years ago.

“I brought Love Actually, my favorite movie of all time, and some really special ones—The Proposal, which I love, and some others…”

Maxie whispered, “The Yankees are playing tonight.”

“You pick the movie,” Tom said. Then he stifled his yawn. “Let’s watch your favorite.”

Fortunately, Maxie didn’t kick him. Instead, she got herself a book in progress, took her favorite chair before anyone else did and made herself comfortable.

Tom reclined on the sofa and Darla reclined on Tom. She was lounging between his legs, her back against his chest. They were positioned slightly behind Maxie’s range of vision unless she turned sharply to take in the scene. It was quite decent—he couldn’t even steal a kiss. She was much more casual this weekend, although it took an equal number of suitcases to be thus. And while Tom had never given a rip about the cost of things like women’s jeans, he was curious. They looked damn good on her. On her feet were suede Uggs… He knew because she had told him. And she wore a fantastic, soft, loose-knit sweater he could see through. Under it was some kind of flesh-colored tank, no bra, br**sts high and tight. He knew this because he was trained by the Marines in reconnaissance—there was no bra in place. He wished he could slip a hand under that sweater and figure out those br**sts. She said she was twenty-nine and they were as perfect as an eighteen-year-old’s… .

Maxie cleared her throat and coughed; he jerked to attention as if she’d spoken aloud.

“Oh, this part always makes me cry!” Darla exclaimed.

He looked up; he had no idea what this movie was about. He slipped his arms around her waist and held her while she sniffed. And then damned if he didn’t start to nod off. He came right awake again, thank goodness, because Darla turned her head and looked over her shoulder and up at him. “Tom,” she whispered. “I think your grandmother is snoring!”