Virgin River (Virgin River #1)(34)

“It’s majestic. One of these days, before you pack it in and run for your life, I’d like to show you some things. The redwoods, the rivers, the coast. It’s almost time for whale watching.” She leaned back against him and couldn’t deny it felt pretty good to be shored up by Jack. “I’m sorry about what happened tonight.” He leaned down and inhaled the scent of her hair. “I was really impressed with how well you handled it—

but I’m sorry he…I hate that he touched you like that. I thought I had an eye on him.”

“Too quick for me. Too quick for you,” she said.

He turned her around and looked into her eyes. He thought he saw an invitation there in her upturned face and he lowered his.

She put a hand on his chest. “I have to go in now,” she said, a little breathless. He straightened.

“We both know I couldn’t throw you,” she said, smiling weakly.

“You’ll never have to,” he said. But he still held her arms, so reluctant to let go.

“Good night, Jack. And thanks for everything. Despite Nick—I had a good time.”

“Glad to hear it,” he said. And he let go.

She turned, and with her head down, went the rest of the way alone. He stood in the street until she was inside, then headed back to the bar. On his way, he saw Ricky’s truck parked right in front of Connie’s house. Well, damn—the boy sure didn’t waste any time. Ricky didn’t have a mom or dad and his grandmother wasn’t well. Jack had been looking out for him for a long time and he knew this day would come eventually—they’d have to have THE talk. But not tonight. Tonight Jack would have that talk with himself.

Preacher had the chairs upside down on the tables and was sweeping up. Jack walked right by him at a good clip. “Where you going in such a hurry?” Preacher asked.

“Shower,” he said miserably.

It was because Connie and Ron liked Ricky so much that they had no problem with him staying out in front of the house talking with Liz for a few minutes. They trusted him, he knew this. But maybe they shouldn’t because if they knew what one look at Liz had done to him, they’d lock her up.

She leaned against the porch, crossed her legs in front of her, pulled a cigarette out of her purse and lit it.

“What are you doing that for?” he asked her.

“Got a problem with it?” she said, blowing out smoke.

He shrugged. “Makes your mouth taste like shit,” he said. “No one’s going to want to kiss you if you smoke.”

She smiled at him. “Someone wants to kiss me?” she asked.

He took the cigarette out of her hand and tossed it. Then he grabbed her around the waist and brought her onto his lips. Yeah, he thought. Makes your mouth taste bad, but not bad enough.

She curved right to him and of course it happened to him. Happened all the time these days. When she opened her mouth and pressed harder against him, it happened even more. Holy God, he was dying. He could feel her full, hard br**sts against his chest and right now all he wanted was to palm one. Against her lips he said, “You shouldn’t smoke.”

“Yeah.”

“It’ll cut your life short.”

“We wouldn’t want that.”

“You’re beautiful,” he said. “Really beautiful.”

“So are you.”

“Guys aren’t beautiful. You want a ride to school Monday?”

“Sure. What time?”

“Pick you up at seven. What class are you?”

“Freshman,” she said.

It stopped happening to him real fast. “Four…fourteen?” he asked her.

“Yeah. And you’re…?”

“Ah…A junior. Sixteen.” He backed away a little. “Damn. Holy God.”

“Did I just lose my ride?” she asked, tugging her sweater down a little bit, which only made her boobs pop out more.

He smiled at her. “Nah. What the heck, huh? See you Monday morning.” He started to walk away, then turned back abruptly and decided on another kiss. Deep and strong. Long. And then another, still longer. Maybe deeper. She sure didn’t feel fourteen.

Chapter Six

O ne morning, Doc left the house early, before breakfast, to make a call. He hadn’t been gone long when Lilly Anderson came to the office to see Mel. Lilly was in the same general age group with Connie and Joy and most of the other women Mel had met—late forties to early fifties. She was pleasantly round with a soft, kind face and lots of short, curly brown hair strung with gray. She wore no makeup and her skin was perfect, blemish-free ivory with pink cheeks and a sweet dimpled smile. The moment Mel met her at the potluck, she’d sensed a safe, nurturing way about her. Mel instantly liked her, trusted her. “You still have that little one, that baby?” Lilly asked.

“I do,” Mel said.

“I’m surprised no one has come forward, wanting to take her in, adopt her.”

“I’m kind of surprised by that, too,” Mel said.

“Perfect healthy little baby,” she said. “What about all those people who want to adopt healthy babies? Where are they?”

Mel shrugged. “Maybe it’s just a matter of social services getting their ducks in a row—I understand they’re busy and small towns like this get put on the back burner.”