Sunrise Point (Virgin River #19)(81)

“Darla, Darla…”

“No,” she said, backing up slightly. “I don’t know what changed, but the first couple of weekends I was here, you were so attentive, so affectionate. I couldn’t have imagined how passionate you were when you kissed me and frankly, I was just counting the minutes until we could spend a night under the same roof together without your grandmother in the next room…”

“I tried to explain about the harvest,” he said.

“And the hunting,” she added. “Did you try to explain about that, too? Or did you just drop it on me that you’d be unavailable? Tom,” she said, releasing a tear. “For the first time in a year I was hopeful. Happy!”

“Stop now,” he said gently, pulling her into a hug, her head against his chest. “I apologize, but there are many things we should talk about. And I’m not sure where to begin or how.” He pushed her away slightly. “And dinner is almost on the table. I need a shower and you could probably stand a glass of wine.”

She sniffed at wiped at her eyes. “Maybe I should just leave… .”

“I’m not going to let you drive all the way back to Davis, upset and crying.”

As she looked up at him, he was quite sure he’d never seen her eyes that round, that sad. But wait—of course he had. When he visited her on his way home, that visit to console her and tell her what a good man her husband had been.

“We need to go in the house,” he said. “I’ll get a shower, we’ll have a little dinner with Maxie, then we’ll find a quiet place to talk for a while. We’ll get this all straightened out.”

“All right,” she said sadly. “Will you bring in my luggage?”

“Of course,” he said and he thought, Maxie is going to have my head for this. “First we go inside and tell Maxie that you’re here. Since I didn’t get the email, she would have no idea.”

“Didn’t get?” she said, lifting a pale brown brow. “Or didn’t read? Because that was something else you said—from now on you’d be very careful about checking your emails.”

“Yeah. Some old habits are tough to change. Come on,” he said, taking her elbow.

As he escorted her to the house, he noticed she was dressed as if she might be attending a very important business meeting in which she was the chairman of the board. The red boots were back, this time paired with a long black skirt with a fringe on the hem and a rich, red poncho. Who goes to classes like this? Who drives four or five hours to an orchard like this?

Life was not fair, he brooded. The woman was so beautiful and such an invasive, intrusive, demanding pain in the ass. He had a strong desire for a simple woman in worn jeans that hugged every little curve and a plain old hoodie. Even if he could dress her up in these designer clothes, he wouldn’t want to. He loved her unaffected style, her lack of guile. She was pure and simple and honest and that was all he wanted.

He walked Darla across the porch and opened the kitchen door. “Maxie,” he said. “Look who’s here.”

His grandmother turned from the stove and jumped in surprise. “Darla!” she said, her hand going to her chest.

Tom did not want to ever lose his grandmother but he did have the passing thought that if she at least fainted, it might divert Darla’s attention from what was going to be a very uncomfortable evening.

“Maxie,” she said, opening her arms to embrace the older woman.

“What a surprise,” Maxie said, submitting to the embrace, patting Darla’s back. Over Darla’s shoulder she stared daggers at Tom.

“I missed you,” Darla said warmly.

“Well, so nice you’re here. I wish you’d have called—I’m afraid there’s nothing but calories on the table tonight.”

“Oh, that’s good, I’m famished. And guess what? I brought a very nice, very expensive Chardonnay. I put it in the trunk in a frozen wine sleeve so it’s ready to be uncorked. Will you join me in a glass while Tom brings in my luggage and takes a shower?”

Maxie lifted one eyebrow. “Perhaps more than one,” she said. And while Darla may not have picked up on the sarcasm, Tom did.

Duke came into the kitchen, happily wagging his tail, because of course he assumed everyone who came to the orchard came to see him.

“No, Duke, no,” Darla said, backing away with the palm of her hand out, warding him off. “You’re hairy.”

“Darla, he’s a dog,” Tom said, perhaps a little irritably. Then in order to cover his tracks, he said, “I’ll get your bags.”

When he came into the house again, carrying three of her four bags, he noticed that she was sitting at the kitchen table. Remaining in the trunk of her car was a fancy briefcase and her chilled bottle of wine. He found it simply remarkable that the woman didn’t even bother to fetch those two lightweight items and bring them in but rather waited for him to do so. As he passed through the kitchen on his way back to her car he asked, “Just out of curiosity, how do you get the luggage into the trunk?”

“Oh, you just won’t believe it. The nicest man lives in the condo right next door—also a student at Davis. He’s been so helpful, so accommodating. All I have to do is tell him when I’ll need a hand and he’s right there, ready and able.”