Virgin River (Virgin River #1)(61)

She pulled the comforter over them both and snuggled up to him. She sniffed the pillow—Downy. Who was this guy? she found herself asking. Looks like Paul Bunyan, runs a bar, has all these guns, and cleans and launders like Martha Stewart. In his sleep, he pulled her closer. His breath smelled of Scotch. Whew, she thought. She put her face against his hair, which smelled of his musk combined with the wind and trees. She inhaled deeply; she’d already begun to love his particular scent and the taste of his mouth. She had wondered what was under the shirt—a nice mat of brown hair on his chest and a couple of tattoos. On his upper left arm an eagle, globe and anchor, almost as big as her hand. On the upper right, over a ribbon, the words: SAEPE EXPERTUS,

SEMPER FIDELIS,

FRATRES AETERNI

She couldn’t resist, she rubbed her hands over the mat of hair on his chest and over his smooth shoulders. She pulled him close. Within minutes, she had fallen back to sleep, cradling Jack in her arms, his arm comfortably embracing her. In the dim light of early morning, Jack awakened with a pounding head. He turned his face to the side and the first thing he saw were Mel’s golden curls against the pillow next to him. She clutched the covers under her chin, sleeping soundly. He raised himself up on an elbow and looked down at her face. Her pink lips were parted in sleep; sooty lashes lay against her cheek. He lifted a soft curl off the pillow and held it to his face, inhaling. Then he leaned toward her and lowered his lips to gently touch hers.

Her eyes came open. “Morning,” she whispered sleepily.

“Did we do it?” he asked.

“No,” she said.

“Good,” he said.

She smiled at him. “I didn’t expect you to say that.”

“When we do it, I want to remember it. I don’t even know why you’re here.”

“I stopped by the bar for a beer just about the time Preacher was scraping you off the floor. Headache?”

“It went away the minute I saw you. I must have had one too many.”

“Did it work? Did you scare away all the demons?”

He shrugged. “It got you in my bed. If I’d known it was that easy, I’d have gotten plastered weeks ago.”

“Lift the covers, Jack,” she said.

He did so. There he was, boxer clad and sporting quite a healthy morning erection. And there she was, fully clothed.

“Don’t look down,” he said, dropping the comforter. “You have me at a huge disadvantage.” She laughed at him. “We could do it now,” he suggested. He felt the texture of her hair between his thumb and finger. “I’ll treat you real, real good.” He grinned.

“No, thank you,” she declined.

“Did I try anything?” he wanted to know.

“No.” She laughed. “Why?”

“I drank enough so that could have been really humiliating. Assault with a dead weapon.”

She ran her fingers over the tattoo. “I sort of expected this,” she said.

“Rite of passage. I bet every young marine wakes up with a splitting head and a little remembrance of the Corps.”

“What does this mean?” she asked, running her fingers over the words on the other arm.

“Often tested, always faithful, brothers forever.” He touched her cheek. “What did Preacher tell you?” he asked her.

“That the boys come up here and stir up some of your roughest memories of the wars you’ve been in. But, I suspect that now and then you’d have those memories anyway, whether they came or not.”

“I love those boys,” he said.

“And they’re devoted to you. So—maybe it’s worth a little discomfort now and then. Friendships like that don’t come cheap.”

Chapter Ten

J ack was back to his old self. It was either the Scotch or the fact that he woke up to a pretty blonde in his bed. He bet on the blonde.

He never did ask Preacher precisely what he had told Mel. And he didn’t ask Mel to be more specific. It didn’t really matter. What did matter was that he had bonded with Mel on a new level that night without planning to. That she knew he was tortured over something terrible from his past and instead of shying away, stayed with him, willing to take it on—it had meant something. She had held him while he tossed and turned against a mean-spirited ghost. After that, she yielded more willingly to those kisses. He was definitely ready to move ahead with her.

They were the current talk in Virgin River, which gave Jack a strange satisfaction. For a man who didn’t want to be tied down to a woman, a man who tended to keep his woman in the shadows, he found himself wanting everyone to know they were a couple. And he worried that she would make good on her threats to leave before he could convince her to stay forever.

Jack took Mel to the coast to whale watch and they talked all the way there and back, but on the high cliffs above the ocean, they held hands, quiet, while the great fleet of behemoth mammals swam by, jumping out of the water and landing with an enormous splash. Their own guard of dolphins escorted them to the north. She let him kiss her for a long time that day. Many times. Then if his hand wandered she said, “No. Not yet.” And that gave him hope. Not yet meant it was on the agenda. He was completely smitten. Jack was forty and this was the first time that he had a woman in his life he couldn’t imagine giving up.

Mel called her sister. “Joey,” she said quietly, in almost a whisper. “I think I have a man in my life.”