Sunrise Point (Virgin River #19)(53)

Tom nodded. Her love was not for sale. “You like baseball?” he heard himself ask.

She looked a little perplexed, but nodded. “Why?”

“Red Sox played the Yankees last night,” he said idly.

“Did you see that game?” she asked, suddenly excited.

“Did you?” he asked back.

“I don’t have a TV, but Buddy and Jerome were talking about it—Jeter took three bases. Must have been awesome. And he put it into overtime!”

“So, you’re a Yankees fan?”

“Me? I’m a California girl, it’s the Giants for me.”

“Well, I was raised here and I’m all about the Red Sox!” he informed her.

“I think I have a better track record, but you do what you have to do.”

“Hah! Maybe you’ve had a little luck here and there, but better record? I beg to differ.”

“What are you talking about? Giants knocked out the Sox 4-2!”

“And the next two games? Sox put ’em down!”

“Don’t get cocky—it’s not over.”

“It’s over—they didn’t make the series!”

“They will next year—and your sucky Sox won’t be there for it.” She stepped closer to him even though she had a full, heavy bag of apples hanging off her shoulders. “What are you doing throwing your lot in with an East Coast team? Have you no loyalty?”

He laughed and lifted the canvas apple bag from her. She would be fun to attend a game with. Not that that would ever happen, but it would be fun. “I spent a lot of time in other places, I guess I turned.” He walked to the big bin and unloaded her apples for her. Then he handed her back the bag. “I suppose you watch a lot of chick flicks,” he said.

“Tom, try to keep up here—no TV. And no money for movies.”

“Back when you did have a TV and went to movies…” he said.

“Some,” she admitted. “But I’ll tell you something if you promise not to share.”

“What?” he asked.

She leaned close. “I like disaster films,” she whispered. “The kind that blow up the world. I’m not fussy—it can be asteroids, aliens or Mother Nature. I think I’m a special-effects junkie.”

“Yeah?” he asked, feeling like he’d suddenly grown lots more teeth in his mouth, he was smiling so big. “What was the last good one you saw?”

“It’s been a while—but I think it was Day After Tomorrow—the glacier. I really loved that. Before that I saw New York City demolished about three times—asteroids and aliens and even volcanoes.”

He laughed, hands on his hips. “Tell you what, one of these times you come out with the kids, we’ll find a way to get them to sleep and watch a newer disaster movie.”

She actually took a step back. Away. “That could be fun,” she said. But her posture and the way she said it made it sound like anything but fun.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she said.

“No really. What?”

“I’d love that,” she said. “But the girls have to get baths and go to sleep after dinner and I have to get them home for that, Tom. And I get up at five. I mean, it sounds like fun, but it’s not practical.”

“We’ll do it on a weekend,” he said.

“I think you have other things to do on weekends…”

“Probably not every weekend,” he said.

She gave him a smile that said she was pretty sure he was booked.

So he got a little more aggressive. “Not every weekend. We’ll make it work because I love watching cities get blown up.”

“You do?”

He shrugged. “As long as it’s pretend. Get back to work—have to check the fence. Don’t want the bear family eating all our apples!”

* * *

Nora got back to her picking, though she wasn’t humming anymore. We’ll do it on a weekend kept circulating in her brain. He must have meant that he would include her along with his new friend. But then, when she suggested he seemed to be pretty busy on the weekend, he could have clarified that, but instead said he wouldn’t be busy every weekend, which almost sounded like he wanted to do something with Nora. Just Nora.

That would not be good, thinking he liked her.

When she’d thrown her life away the first time, she’d been nineteen, inexperienced, foolish and unquestionably starved for love. Now things were different—she was older, knew how bad things could get if one wasn’t cautious and she didn’t need the love of a young man to validate her.

She had no interest in a broken heart.

Chapter Twelve

October in the mountains was chilly, often wet, and the busiest apple harvesting time all year. Tom had worn a slicker all day and was still wet to the skin. He was bone tired by the time he was able to make it to the house at five o’clock.

“There you are,” Darla said, smiling. She jumped up from the table and Duke immediately thought she intended to pet him. He wagged and went to her and she put out her hands. “Ack! No, Duke, no! Sit. Sit.” Duke tilted his head and looked confused, then forlorn. But he stopped and sat.

Then she smiled at Tom and gave her clothes a brush as if to remove his hair that wasn’t there. She was decked out in a longish gray wool skirt, yet another pair of boots he didn’t recognize, a woolly orange jacket over a silky black blouse. Damn, but the woman could certainly look good.