Virgin River (Virgin River #1)(53)

“You’d have been better off,” Doc said. “That piece of shit isn’t big enough for a patient having a heart attack and a practitioner trying to keep her alive.”

“I’m not going to fight with you for saying that,” she said. “Because you at least called me a practitioner and not a nurse. You seem to be coming around, you old fart.”

She looked up at Jack. “We keeping you up?”

“Nah,” he said, chuckling. “Take your time. In fact, I’ll join you.” He reached behind him and selected a bottle, tipping it over a glass. He lifted it in a toast to both of them.

“Good team work, amazingly. Glad everything’s okay.”

Mel was exhausted, most of which came from the ride and long afternoon of tensely waiting at the hospital. Connie, she realized without much surprise, was more than a patient to her—she was a friend. And when you do this kind of work in this kind of place, your patients are almost always your friends. Must be hard to maintain objectivity. On the other hand, success was that much more gratifying. Fulfilling. It wasn’t like this in L.A.

Doc finished his whiskey and got up. “Nicely done, Melinda. We’ll try to have a dull day tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Doc.”

After the doctor left, Jack said, “Sounds like maybe the two of you have started to bond or something.”

“Or something,” she said, sipping.

“How was that trip to Valley Hospital?”

“Like Mr. Toad’s wild ride,” she said, making him laugh a little. She pushed her glass toward him and he gave her another splash of Crown.

“You want ice or water with that?” he asked her.

“No, this is good. Very good, in fact.”

She sipped her drink rather too quickly. She looked up at him, tilted her head to one side, then inclined it toward the glass.

“You sure? Because I think maybe that’s enough. Your cheeks are flushed and I can tell, you’re not cold anymore.”

“Just a tish.”

A tish was what she got—a couple of swallows.

“Thanks for taking me fishing,” she said. “Sorry you didn’t get in my pants again.”

A large surprised laugh escaped him. She was getting a little tiddly. “That’s okay, Melinda. Whenever you’re ready.”

“Aha! I knew it!”

“Like it’s been hard to tell.”

“You’re so transparent.” She downed the rest of her drink. “I’d better get going. I’m completely shot.” She stood up and nearly fell down. She grabbed at the bar to right herself and Jack came around to her side. He put an arm around her waist. She looked up at him with watery eyes and said, “Damn. I forgot to eat.”

“Let me make you some coffee,” he suggested.

“And ruin this perfectly good buzz? Hell, I’ve earned it.” She took a step and wavered. “Besides, I don’t think it’ll make me sober. Probably just wide-awake drunk.”

Jack tightened his hold around her and laughed in spite of himself. “All right, Mel. I can put you in my bed and take the couch…”

“But sometimes I have deer in my yard in the morning,” she said, a little whiny. “I want to go home. They might come back.”

Home. That sounded good to Jack, that she thought of that cabin as her home. “All right, Mel. I’ll take you home.”

“That’s a relief,” she said. “Because I’m pretty sure I already can’t drive. Even on a straight and undangerous road.”

“You’re a lightweight,” he said.

They took a couple of steps and her legs buckled a second time. He gave a sigh and bent to lift her into his arms. She patted his chest. “It’s good that you’re strong,” she said. “You’re good to have around. It’s like having my own personal valet.”

He chuckled under his breath. Preacher had gone upstairs for the night so he turned off the Open sign and managed to get his keys out of his pocket without dropping her. He locked the front door and took her down the steps and around to the back of the bar where he kept his truck. He put her in and she managed, though with some difficulty, to buckle her seat belt. When he got in and started the truck she said, “You know something, Jack? You’ve turned out to be my very good friend.”

“That’s nice, Mel.”

“I really appreciate this. Boy, whew. I’m sure not much of a drinker. I think I’m a one-beer girl. Two if I’ve had a side of beef and an apple pie.”

“I think you’ve assessed the situation correctly.”

“If I ask for the good stuff again, be sure to ask me if I’ve had food.”

“Sure will,” he said.

She laid her head back on the seat. Within five minutes, it lolled. And Jack spent the rest of the drive wondering a couple of things. One—what if she roused enough as he was taking her inside to invite him to stay? That would be okay, wouldn’t it? Even though she was just a “tish” disadvantaged? Or—what if she didn’t rouse and he just lay down beside her to be there in case she woke and decided it was time? That would be okay. Or maybe he could just wait on her couch, in case she needed anything…like sex. Then if she woke up during the night he’d be there. He’d be ready. He’d been ready.