A Virgin River Christmas (Virgin River #4)(42)

“Whatever’s on tap,” Ian said.

Jack drew the beer and said to Marcie, “Help yourself to the phone, Marcie. Preacher’s back there.” Then, she skipped away and Jack put the beer in front of Ian.

Ian picked it up and migrated down to the corner of the bar he’d staked out. Then he watched with interest for several moments as Jack made a few drinks, polished some glasses, exchanged friendly banter with a couple of customers, arranged some bottles, took a tub of dirty glasses to the kitchen, and seemed to completely ignore Ian, the old doctor, and the other lone drinker at the opposite end of the bar. It was probably ten minutes—Marcie must be having a very interesting conversation with her sister. How is she explaining me? he wondered to himself.

“How’s that beer?” Jack asked, dishtowel in hand, eyeing the nearly empty glass.

“I’m good,” Ian said.

“Just let me know,” he said, turning away.

“Ah,” Ian said, getting his attention but not exactly calling him back.

Jack turned, lifted an eyebrow. Silent.

“She tell you to leave me alone?”

A small huff of laughter escaped Jack. “Pal, the first thing you learn when you open a bar—talk if they talk, shut up if they don’t.”

Ian tilted his head. Maybe he could stand this place once in a while. “She tried to explain me to the librarian in Eureka as an idiot savant.” Jack smiled and Ian felt an odd sensation—it was a funny story; he liked sharing a funny story. He used to make the guys laugh when he wasn’t making them work. “She tell you she was looking for me?”

“She did.”

For some reason unclear even to him, Ian did something he hadn’t done since finding himself in these mountains—he pushed on it a little bit. “She tell you anything about me?”

“Couple of things.”

“Like?”

“Like, you and me—we were in Fallujah about the same time.”

“Should’ve known. You have that jarhead look about you. Just so you’re clear—I don’t talk about that time.”

Jack smiled lazily. “Just so you’re clear, neither do I.”





“Hi, Erin,” Marcie said into the phone. “I’m just checking in.” “Marcie, good God, where have you been?” she asked.

Marcie could just imagine Erin beginning to pace with the phone in her hand, something she did whenever she was stressed and not quite in control. “You know where I am. Right here, in Virgin River. I’m staying not far from here. Didn’t you get my messages? I talked to Drew and Mel Sheridan said she talked to you—”

“Some woman I’ve never heard of and don’t know called, yes,” she said. “She says you’re staying with him? You’re actually staying with him? Someplace without even a phone?”

Marcie sighed deeply. “Calm down—he doesn’t need a phone. He lives in a perfectly comfortable cabin on a ridge with an incredible view and he sort of…invited me to stay if I wanted to…”

“Sort of? If you wanted to? Marcie, what the hell’s going on?”

“I want you to listen to me, Erin. Listen and stop commanding. I found him, I want to get to know him, I want to understand him. Everything. I want to understand everything. And that takes time. And there’s no place I have to be right now.”

“This is making me nuts! My little sister, with some crazy stranger on an isolated mountain—”

“He is not crazy! He’s a good man! He’s been very generous with me! I’m completely safe, and there’s nothing about this to make you concerned. He goes to work every day and in the evenings when he’s back at the cabin, we talk a little bit. We’re just getting to know each other. Today we went to church and to the library. Stop hovering—you knew I was going to do this!”

“Let me talk to him,” Erin said. “Put him on the phone. I have a few questions.”

“No,” she said in a panicked gasp. “He can’t come to the phone—he’s out in the…the…restaurant. I’m an adult, and he doesn’t need your permission to invite me to stay in his cabin. You’re going to have to trust me!”

“It’s not trust and you know it—it’s him! I don’t know him, I only know that when you were up to your neck taking care of Bobby and Ian Buchanan was out of the Corps, he never even called to ask—”

“He saved Bobby’s life,” Marcie shot back. “He risked his life to save my husband. What more do I need to know? I want to thank him, I want to—”

“Saying thank you should take about five minutes,” Erin interrupted.

“I’m not talking about this anymore. I’ll call you in a few days—and work on calming down in the meantime. Erin, do not mess this up for me!” She disconnected the line with an angry poke of one finger.

And looked up into those dark, brooding eyes of Preacher’s. Beneath the scowl was a lift of his lips. “Well,” Preacher said. “That’s a new twist to the story. He saved your husband’s life? Hoorah.”

“I thought you knew,” she said.

“All I knew was you’re widowed,” he said. “How about this guy? He seem an okay guy?”