A Virgin River Christmas (Virgin River #4)(62)

“Hmm. That’s what I need.”

“And what I need,” he said, giving her a kiss against her temple.

“Can I tell you something?”

He laughed. “Marcie, aren’t you tired of talking yet?”

She completely ignored him. “It’s about that whole wedding thing,” she said. “You know, with Shelly?”

“I’m not thinking about that right now,” he said, pulling her closer against him.

“I know, but I just wanted to say—I’ve been in four weddings, including my own. Brides—all of them, at one point or another—have that moment, that meltdown, when it’s all about them and their wedding. It’s easy to forget it’s about the marriage, but not about the wedding. But reality sets in real quick.” She yawned. “Some brides are worse than others, but Shelly probably didn’t mean what she said.”

He was quiet for a moment, not even able to conjure a memory or image of Shelly. He asked, “Four?”

“Hmm?”

“Four weddings?”

“Uh-huh. And a godmother twice, and I’m going to be one again in March—my friend Mable is having a boy, her first.”

He gave a snort of laughter. “You have a friend named Mable?”

“Uh-huh. She thinks it was her mother’s revenge for making her sick during pregnancy. We all call her Maybe. She’s married to William, who we call Will. They’re Maybe Will to everyone.”

“You’re connected to a lot of people. That makes me happy, knowing that,” he said.

She snuggled closer. “And now I’m connected to you, too. That makes me happy.” She yawned again. “But here’s what I wanted to tell you, Ian. That thing with Shelly? I think maybe you dodged a bullet there.”

He laughed softly, pulled her closer still. Oh yeah, he thought. He wasn’t meant to end up with Shelly.

“I’ll be quiet now,” she said.

“Good.”

When Ian had allowed himself to think about Marcie, his vision had been one of loneliness and despair. That’s because he didn’t know her as Abigail Adams, the sassy, indefatigable, positive woman she was; because he’d never let himself know.

He couldn’t see as far from the top of his mountain as he thought he could.





Thirteen



M arcie felt something on her hair and woke to look into Ian’s rich brown eyes. Dawn was barely lighting the cabin and he was running his big hand over her curls. “Morning,” she said sleepily.

He didn’t say anything. He just lowered his lips to hers and touched them gently, sweetly. She felt the brush of his beard, the soft flesh of his lips and let her eyes drop closed. He moved over her mouth for a moment. She moaned and slipped an arm around his neck, holding him there. He pulled back just a little and whispered, “We’re snowed in, honey.”

“Good.”

“I was jealous of Bobby, you know,” Ian said, petting her hair back along her temple, moving it over her ear.

“Be careful, Ian—you’re talking about ‘it.’”

“I’m ready to tell you anything you want to know. We were all a little jealous of Bobby. He had something real special with you. You sent him panties.”

Her cheeks warmed in spite of herself. Her eyes got very round. “He showed you?”

Ian chuckled. “He showed everyone. Very skimpy panties. I think they were lime-green with black lace or something.”

“I cannot believe he showed you!”

“He was proud of them. He kept them tucked in his inside pocket like a good-luck charm.”

“They were perfectly clean, I’ll have you know.”

“Aw, that almost comes as a disappointment,” Ian said, chuckling. “They should have had your scent on them.”

“They had Tide and Downy on them!”

“And you sent him that picture—on the motorcycle.”

She put her hands over her face. In muffled tones she muttered, “I’m mortified.” He pulled her hands away and lightly kissed her again. “So the night I almost froze to death was actually the second time you’ve seen me in my underwear.”

“Technically, I’ve seen your underwear a ton of times. I came home a couple of times to see your cute little rump sticking out of the covers, not to mention all that underwear on my tub, drying out,” he said. “And I’d trade my life to see you in your underwear again.”

Her eyes got round for a minute, but then she smiled slightly and a little laugh escaped her. “I’ve heard some interesting come-ons in my limited experience, but that’s a new one. Tell me, do I have to shoot you after you peek?”

“What if I told you, you might have to shoot me to stop me? Would that scare you?”

“You don’t scare me, Ian. I know you’d protect me from anything. Even yourself.”

He pressed kisses all over her face and she held his face in her hands while he did so. His breathing came faster, rougher. “I want you to know something,” he said in a whisper. “Something like this happening with us—it didn’t cross my mind until—”

She waited. Finally she said, “Until?”

“Until you came back. This doesn’t have to happen, Marcie. Tell me if you don’t want to—”