Whispering Rock (Virgin River #3)(57)

And Matt grinned and said, “Three, two, one… I’m gone.”

But he didn’t bring her back. Instead, he waved Paul over and tried to hook him up with one of Vanessa’s friends. And Paul went along with it, because what else was he going to do? If he’d had an ounce of courage he would’ve said, “Stop! I saw her first! She’s mine!” To this day, he regretted that.

Before that weekend was over, Matt and Vanessa were in love. Since she had airline travel privileges and he was state-side, she spent every weekend with him for a year. A year after that Paul was best man at their wedding. He swore if he ever again saw a woman he was that drawn to, he would tackle her on the spot, probably knocking her off her feet, and never let her get away.

As far as he could remember, that hadn’t ever happened to him before. And it sure hadn’t happened since.

When Paul got to Virgin River he went directly to the job site to be sure everything was in place. The trailer had made it just fine and stood ready for his crews. His best supervisor, Manny, would be bringing materials on the big truck and the others would follow. He unhooked his fifth wheel, leaving it at the site, and drove his truck to the Booth household. When he pulled in, he immediately had second thoughts—he should have called her. But wouldn’t calling her indicate that she had some play in his coming here, doing this for Jack? That wouldn’t be good. So he just knocked on the door.

Walt answered, his glasses pushed up on his head and his newspaper in his hand. “Paul! Damn, boy! What are you doing here?”

“I’m here on a job, sir,” he said, laughing. “We’re going to have to keep it on the downlow for now—I don’t think it’s out yet.”

“That so?” he asked, pushing open the door. “Come in, come in! You can tell us all about it. Vanessa! You won’t believe this!”

Paul stepped into the foyer of the house and looked around appreciatively. It wasn’t much from the outside—just a long, narrow ranch. But inside it was spacious with vaulted ceilings and lots of windows facing the stable and corral so they could watch their horses from the house. It looked as though the general had probably gutted it and had it completely remodeled. The foyer opened up into a great room with an impressive fireplace and lots of soft leather furniture. As Paul stepped into that room he saw that the dining room was to his right and he leaned slightly to peek into a huge modern kitchen. Down the hall, he assumed, were bedrooms. Out the great-room windows he could see horses in the pasture, the new stable and a view of the mountains and river. It wasn’t hard to tell why the general had chosen this place. He was a hunter, fisherman and sportsman who loved his horses.

Out back, a foot up on the corral fence, looking at the horses, was a young man. That would be Tommy. He couldn’t wait to get a closer look at the kid. At the wedding a couple of years ago he’d really enjoyed his sense of humor. He was an intelligent, handsome teen who was funny but with the kind of careful manners that would come from being raised in a strict household, by an Army general’s firm hand.

Vanessa came down the hall toward him. Her face lit up in pleased surprise. “Oh, my God!” she said, grinning widely. “What are you doing back here so soon?”

“Well, I’ll tell you in a minute. How are you? You look fantastic!”

“I’m starting to get really fat,” she laughed.

“You look perfect. I think you’re more beautiful than ever. Are you taking lots of pictures for Matt?”

“Every week I have Dad take a new picture of my belly. Time-lapse photography.”

“That’s great.”

“How about a beer, Paul?” Walt asked.

“Sure, why not? Is that Tommy out there?”

“Yeah. He’s having a bad day. Let me get that beer. Go sit down.”

“Come on,” Vanessa said, taking his hand and pulling him into the great room. She led him to an overstuffed chair with an ottoman near the windows that overlooked the corral.

Before Paul even got comfortable in the chair opposite Vanessa, the general appeared with a cold beer poured in a tall glass. He had one for himself as well and said, “Vanni, I didn’t get you anything, honey. I didn’t even think.”

“No problem, Dad. I’ll go get some water in a minute. Boy, doesn’t that beer look good! I have to admit—I can’t wait.”

The general was at least six feet tall, broad shouldered and silver haired, with black brows, square face, about sixty years old; he had had a magnificent Army career that spanned over thirty-five years. A few years ago his wife had died, and when that happened he wrapped it up with the Army. Without that great partner of his—a woman lauded often but whom Paul had never met—he wasn’t interested in any more military challenges.

“What’s up with Tommy?” Paul asked, taking a drink of his beer.

“Aw, teenagers,” the general said. “He’s hanging with this kid I just don’t like. He got himself in a little trouble—went out to some forbidden kegger in the woods. I found out there’s been a little beer after school and noticed his grades slipping in a couple of his classes. And I think it’s this one kid.”

“That’s not all of it. Dad doesn’t like his face.”

“Huh?” Paul asked.

The general shook his head. “This kid, he’s got that shifty look, that manipulative little grin. I mean, we were all seventeen, right? Had a couple of beers, drove our cars too fast, tried to pick up girls? Huh? But this one’s different. I think he’s a little f**ker, and I don’t want him f**king with my kid. Sorry, Vanni.”