Whispering Rock (Virgin River #3)(37)

“And the next one?” she asked.

He shrugged. “We married out of guilt. She was with another man when I began to see her and she broke it off with him to be with me. That was her choice—I didn’t ask her to do that. But like Carmel, she needed to be married after that. Maybe neither of us could handle what we’d done—I have some pretty large Catholic guilt. So we married. We tried to turn a sexual fling into true love and it didn’t work. Within six months she was gone. It was a mistake from the beginning, but I didn’t learn my lesson about that kind of thing for quite a while. If a woman was warm and willing… I was still living in the moment, thinking of myself. There’s no defense for what I did to either of them, but I was only twenty-six years old when my second marriage was over and still a young fool.

“And the other thing was, I didn’t take marriage seriously. I thought I’d just find a wife automatically. I’d just aim, fire and bang—I’d be married and have a bunch of kids.” He shrugged. “That’s what my brothers did. And my sisters. They dated someone, married ’em, the rest is history. They’re all happy. It never occurred to me they knew what they were doing.”

“You wanted kids?”

“Certainly. Thank God that didn’t happen. I’d hate to have kids caught up in my miscalculations. Before the shooting, I had no patience, hardly any scruples. I might’ve hit on you four years ago if you hadn’t been obviously in love with your husband.”

“What about that shooting changed you?”

“You’re kidding, right? I almost died. I had a lot of time—down time—to think about how I’d misspent my life. About all the people I must have disappointed—not the least of whom was myself. I wasn’t unlike Brad—the kind of guy who’d take too many chances, risk things a person with a brain would never risk. And it cost him everything. Cost me everything.” He took a drink from his beer. “My ex-wives—they might not have been perfect, but I can’t blame anyone but myself.”

“You see?” she said, sitting straighter. “Your heart has to be broken!”

“Yeah. I’m sure it will be.”

“But what I can’t get past,” she said, “is what if I face that again? What if I’m in love with some man, want to have a life with him and it seems everything is okay. Wonderful. Perfect. And then…?”

“Aw, Brie, there aren’t any guarantees in this life—you know that better than anyone. After you take your time, know as much about him as you can and use your best judgment, it might be you who has a change of heart.” His dark eyes glowed in the firelight. “Or maybe you’re right about everything—about your feelings and his—and it’s destined to last forever, to be perfect forever, and something you couldn’t have foreseen happens. He slips off the mountain or falls off a boat.” He touched her nose. “If you find yourself in that wonderful temptation, believing in someone enough to take that kind of chance, the person you’ll have to trust most is yourself.”

They talked until almost midnight and Brie began to yawn. And yawn and yawn. Finally Mike said, “You’re driving me crazy. Go to bed. I’ll be right here on the couch. I’ll hear every sound, so you can just fall asleep and leave me in charge.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure. First of all, this is a solid cabin—all locked up tight. Second, if anything stirs, I’m up like that,” he said, snapping his fingers. “It’s not even a choice. It comes from years of nodding off while sitting surveillance. And that’s nothing to how light a sleeper you become in Iraq.”

“Hmm. I could buy that. It’s true, isn’t it?”

“It’s true. I haven’t lied to you yet.”

She thought about all the things he’d told her about himself—totally uncomplimentary things guaranteed to keep her from getting further involved with him, and decided that he hadn’t lied to her. “Okay, then,” she said, standing. “Thanks. I mean it, really. Thanks. I don’t think I can do it yet—alone. You want a pillow or something?”

“Nah. I’m comfortable.”

Brie went off to bed. He heard the sound of her brushing her teeth. Moving around. Snuggling in. He lay down on the sofa; his legs were too long and he propped them up on the arm. His feet would be asleep before morning, but it was okay. He wanted to do this for her.

Not much time had passed when he opened his eyes to find her standing over him. “Umm,” she said nervously. “Can you…? This is awkward. I’m still very squeamish about a man even seeing me on the treadmill, but could you share the bed, in your clothes, and manage not to do anything? I mean, even in your sleep?”

“I’m okay right here, Brie. Don’t worry about me.”

“I’m not worried about… I just thought, that couch isn’t big enough. And there’s a bed in the loft, but I just don’t want you way up there. And I… Could you lie beside me on the bed without—”

“I’m not going to try anything with you, Brie. I know you can’t handle that.”

“I don’t think I can sleep unless you’re…closer,” she said very softly.

“Aw, honey…”